“An Enemy-exposer? You’re a genius.”
Fuller blushed. “I’m not a genius. I’m just a tremendous bundle of experience.”
That made Sullivan think of Wells’ alienist profile of Dosan Saito… And one more piece of the puzzle clicked into place.
Chapter 12
See beautiful Shanghai, Pearl of the Orient. Experience the mysteries of exotic Asia. Enjoy the amenities of the Paramount Ballroom, catch a show featuring big stars at the legendary Grand Theater, shop at Sincere to find the rarest of gifts, or experience the luxury of Sir Victor Sassoon’s Cathay Hotel. Gamble in the French Concession or tour the ultramodern architecture of the Imperium Section, whatever you choose, Shanghai is the intersection of the cutting edge and the traditional. Any unpleasantness you may have heard about is in the past, and was exaggerated to boot, but your friends don’t know that and the ladies will look at you as an international man of adventure upon your safe return! A new era of peace and prosperity has been achieved in beautiful Shanghai. The Free City of Shanghai has never been safer or more affordable to visit. Book your trip with Pinnacle Tours today!
—Magazine Advertisement, 1931
Free City of Shanghai
“Good evening, Mr. Smith,” the Chinese policeman said. His English was decent, and his accent suggested he’d learned it from an actual Englishman. That wasn’t a surprise, considering just how many tens of thousands of Westerners ripe for a shakedown were already in the city. There were multiple coppers at each checkpoint, and odds were one of them probably spoke French, and another, German. Shanghai was supposed to be cosmopolitan like that. The English speaker looked over the traveling papers. “Is this your first time in Shanghai?”
“It is,” Sullivan answered. According to the Free City government documents, he was a successful tool and die maker from Detroit named Fred Smith, looking for an adventurous vacation in exotic Shanghai. Well, the forgeries probably said something to that effect, but he couldn’t read Chinese either. “Been here a couple of days is all.”
“Yes. This says you arrived on the Laughing Carp out of San Francisco.” The policeman was taking his time with those papers, trying to do a thorough job, but they looked nice and official, probably as good a forgery as anything he’d ever seen in Detroit or Chicago, but then again, he couldn’t read all the weird squares and lines that passed for writing around here, so he was just taking Captain Southunder’s word for it. Sullivan glanced up and down the quiet marketplace. If it turned out the papers didn’t look official enough, there was always violence, but he didn’t relish the idea of smacking around some cops and then trying to run and hide when he was a foot taller than anybody else on the street. “I hope it was a pleasant journey.”
“Sure was. Always wanted to take a nice cruise.”
“Of course,” the policeman said absently as he held the papers up toward the Sun to check for the proper watermarks. The other three men looked bored, smoking cigarettes and leaning on their rifles. “What do you think of our city so far?”
I think that if God don’t burn Shanghai down, then he owes Sodom and Gomorrah an apology. But Sullivan didn’t dare share his real feelings, so instead he played like most of the Westerners that wound up here. “It seems like a real nice place. Always heard stories about the Pearl of the Orient, and it’s nice as they say.” The policeman nodded as Sullivan spoke. “Pearl of the Orient” was the polite title. It was usually just “Whore of the Orient.”
“The casinos are the best I’ve ever seen.”
“Have you won much yet?” the policeman asked with a sly look.
Why? You gonna shake me down for a bribe? But Sullivan just smiled and shook his head. “Nope. Not with my luck. Maybe that’ll change tonight, though.” He needed to get through here and fast. It was obvious why he’d been pulled out of line for a random check. The main street through this district was the place with all of the pleasures and temptations for westerners with too much cash, but Westerners stuck out on this side road. He was an anomaly, and anomalies got pulled out of line. Didn’t matter if you were in a foreign land, policemen were the same everywhere.
“Why are you in this district?”
Sullivan knew if somebody caught you looking guilty, the fastest way to get rid of them was to let them think they were right. “I’m a little embarrassed, but I’ve got to ask for some directions. See, I heard about this place called the Golden Flower House, I think it is, but I got turned around…”
“Ah, of course. It is for clientele with special tastes.” The policeman smirked, thinking to himself that he’d called it as to why the big, white round-eye was wandering around the wrong part of town. Sullivan didn’t even know what kind of weird business went on at the Golden Flower House, but the Marauders who had briefed him on the city had said that it catered to things that wouldn’t fly with the madams of the more respectable pleasure houses on the main thoroughfares. The policeman was giving him a look that said pervert.
“I’m on vacation.”
The policeman handed the forged documents back over. “Turn left at the end of this street and walk one more block. It is the one with the golden tiles on the roof.”
“Thanks, buddy. Seems a little weird asking for directions to a whorehouse from a lawman, but I got to remember that sort of thing is okay here.”
“In this district allowances are made.” Which was code for it was illegal as hell in the rest of the city, but it was okay in this part because the mobsters made big buckets of money off of it. It was said you could buy anything in Shanghai. “Enjoy your visit, Mr. Smith.”
Sullivan pocketed the papers and strolled through the checkpoint. He tried to remember what it had been like the first time he’d ever visited a big city, and tried to ape that. So he took his time, making sure to gape stupidly at anything that looked odd or foreign, which was damn near everything. The district he’d entered through had worn the mask of a Western city, and if it hadn’t been for all the Chinamen, could’ve passed for San Francisco, all neat and modern, with tall, clean buildings. Even the signs there had been in English or French. This district was a whole different world.
It was busy, busier than any place he’d ever been, positively packed with human bodies, and they were all moving fast. There weren’t as many cars in this district, but the ones there were kept on honking and revving their engines to warn the pedestrians out of their way. The buildings weren’t as tall, but every floor of them bustled with activity and noise, except, of course, for the blackened, empty hulls that had been shelled by the Japanese not too long ago. Every inch of sidewalk had been taken up with street vendors, which meant the people walked in the streets around them, which meant the cars honked more. The market stalls were a buzz of activity, and merchants shouted at him continuously in Chinese, showing him everything from odd jewelry to children’s toys to weird Oriental items which were probably crap to them, but might make a pretty souvenir for a tourist. From all of the yelling, folks really seemed to like to haggle in these parts.
Once he was far out of sight of the police checkpoint, Heinrich appeared at Sullivan’s side. It was hard to tell it was him, since he was dressed like a local, walked like a local, and was wearing a big straw hat that kept his blond hair and most of his face hidden from observers. “Very good, my friend. Just keep walking.”