“Clearly it’s political. Not medical.”
Messonier’s chuckle was muffled by his napkin.
General Khorvat called for their attention. “Gentlemen and ladies. You may be aware of the recent unexplained deaths at Manchouli station, the intersection of the two great rail systems, the CER and the Trans-Siberian Railway. One week later, there was a second death at Chalainor, the station closest to Manchouli. Bodies were then found at Hailar, Puhudu, and Mukden, less than an hour away by train. Three, possibly four deaths here in Kharbin. We suspect an outbreak of plague caused the deaths but this isn’t confirmed. Plague has occurred in this region over the years. But Kharbin will be spared this misfortune because of our timely vigilance.” Applause stopped his speech briefly before he continued. “Three patients are currently in the Russian hospital under treatment by”—he consulted a paper—“Dr. Wu, Dr. Mesny, and Dr. Lebedev. The patients are recovering under the doctors’ excellent care. I myself have visited the ward. I would never hesitate to put myself in danger for the benefit of our citizens.” He bowed slightly and stroked the length of his beard during the prolonged applause.
“Thank you. You’re here in Kharbin, sent by your respective governments. In the unlikely event there are additional infections, everyone will be informed immediately. There’s nothing to fear. Kharbin will continue to prosper with the blessing of the czar and the Imperial Throne in Beijing.” Everyone at the long tables stood up to cheer.
The Baron observed there was no sense of menace at the mention of plague but a pleasurable swell of excitement, as if a plan to explore new territory had been announced. A plan of conquest. An opportunity to perform heroic work. The risk of failure or death was distant lightning.
The zakuski course was finished and the guests slowly moved, in a haze of intense conversation, to dinner tables in the next room.
The Baron spoke quietly to Messonier. “The situation is more serious than Khorvat admits. He does nothing but make a bloodless speech. And he ignores two crucial points.”
“Which are?”
His voice was low so as not to be overheard. “First, how contagious is the plague? Second, look at the numbers. The new medical personnel outnumber the patients.”
“You say we’re overstaffed?” Messonier joked, his words a moat to keep fear away.
“Obviously, they anticipate an explosive increase in the number of patients. Numerous doctors and nurses will be needed.”
At the table, the Baron switched place cards so he was seated next to Messonier. “Judging by the extravagance of the banquet, we are in crisis. All the years I’ve lived in Manchuria, I’ve never seen Russians and Chinese share a table.”
For the first course, the waiters offered a choice of hot or cold soups, botvinia, okroshka, with tiny dumplings, or pirozhki.
Messonier’s eyebrows lifted. “I believe my appetite has been diminished by your speculations.”
“Enjoy yourself. This feast is unlikely to be repeated.”
Noting Boguchi’s quizzical expression, Messonier avoided his eyes and slowly dredged his spoon through the thick okroshka in the bowl.
A yellow wine, huang-jiu from Shaoxing, was poured as a concession to the Chinese, but the Russians ignored it for quantities of vodka. The entrées were elegant and substantiaclass="underline" sturgeon in champagne sauce, partridge fattened on juniper berries, roast saddle of goat, suckling pig with cream and horseradish. Strong punch marked the introduction of lighter fare, cucumber salad and cauliflower with sauce Polonaise. Dessert was a towering babka yablochnaya.
The Baron murmured praise for the dinner and introduced himself to the translator Zhu Youjing and Dr. Iasienski.
The waiter inserted a tray of fruit ices between them. The hours-long dinner was nearly finished.
Afterward, the Baron waited patiently with other officials for an introduction to Dr. Wu. Up close, the doctor was very boyish in a collared jacket and trousers tucked into high leather boots. Vodka had made the Baron careless and he automatically addressed Dr. Wu in Chinese, a standard pleasantry of welcome. The translator Zhu Youjing quickly answered but Wu had lost face in front of officials and his cheeks flushed. The Baron hastily apologized in Chinese and then awkwardly in English.
Cold-eyed, Wu accepted his apology. “We can speak in English, German, or French, as you wish, Baron.” They agreed to meet again the following week.
The Baron joined his hands in front of his chest and bowed slightly, making the gongshou courtesy.
“I will make arrangements for your meeting, as Dr. Wu is very busy.” His translator’s Russian was excellent, his r sonorous.
The Baron noticed Messonier edging his way toward a blond woman in the group gathered around two polite young men, medical students from Peking Union Medical College, a missionary institute.
Wang, the tallest junior doctor, was clearly excited to discuss his first assignment in Kharbin. “We’ll monitor arriving and departing passengers at Central Station, where we’re most useful. We watch for those who seem uneasy or sick, check their symptoms, and take their temperature.”
Several men praised their sacrifice.
“Sacrifice?” The second young man’s face creased with worry until a waiter approached with glasses of vodka on a tray.
Someone asked him about the sanitary measures in the train station.
He looked blank until Wang broke in. “Thermometers will be sterilized in alcohol after each use.”
“You’ll need rubber gloves and hot water. A mask. Memorize shidan suan, the word for carbolic disinfectant.” The Baron’s voice was gentle. “You’ll be at risk, exposing yourself to so many people day after day.”
“Especially the many foreigners at the station. The dirty Chinese.” A Russian drunk spoke from the crowd.
Dr. Wu didn’t change expression at this insult and Messonier looked at him in surprise.
“Anyone can carry an illness. Anyone can be infected.” The Baron challenged the speaker, who was drunker than the others. “No weapon or shield can protect you.”
“Not true. Imperial Russia protects you. Every measure is taken to safeguard your health. No need to be concerned.” Dr. Iasienski addressed the two young Chinese doctors but his eyes were on the Baron. A warning.
“You see? Your safety is guaranteed by one of Kharbin’s highest medical authorities.” The Baron’s gesture was expansive and mocking. Possibly at this point, some of his colleagues marked him as insufficiently loyal.
The blond woman addressed Dr. Iasienski. “I’m Dr. Maria Lebedev. Is there a report about the exact dates and the pattern of contagion, since the train stations are under surveillance?” The pale braids circling her head were harshly sculpted by electric light from the sconce.
“Only vigilance and caution will subdue the beast,” said Dr. Iasienski, then added, “God willing.”
Messonier cleared his throat but Dr. Maria Lebedev ignored him. “I assume an official report will be distributed at our first general meeting?”
“Let’s not review medical issues here. It’s inefficient gossip after a banquet,” interrupted Khorvat.
“The most accurate information sometimes comes from unofficial sources.” Dr. Maria Lebedev smiled at Khorvat. Because women’s opinions were generally ignored, only a woman would dare challenge the general.
The Baron resisted the urge to kiss her hand.
An awkward silence as they waited for Khorvat’s response until Messonier spun a comment. “Dr. Lebedev just arrived from Switzerland. A volunteer.”
Khorvat’s voice boomed. “Welcome, Dr. Lebedev. Impressive that you wish to immediately begin work.”