Heart of Lies (20 page)

“Did you hear that?” he asked, not really needing confirmation, but soliciting it nonetheless.

The other men looked at each other. One of them shrugged. “The Chinese have been trying to bomb Japanese positions in Hongkew all afternoon. Maybe they finally hit something.”

“If that was a bomb, it was closer than Hongkew,” Leo’s partner commented.

Leo dropped his racquet and headed off the court at a trot. As he mounted the steps of the club he heard another distant boom. Chills ran up his spine and he started to run, not stopping to give a word of explanation to the puzzled friends he left behind or the surprised club members he passed, as he sped through the clubhouse and out the front door, yelling to get the attention of the taxi driver who habitually
parked in front of the club at this hour for the convenience of members who drank too much whiskey with their tea.

He wrenched open the cab door and jumped into the car. “The Bund,” he barked in Russian to the startled driver. “To the Cathay Hotel. Go. As fast as the devil or I’ll drive this goddamn thing myself.”

They got as far as the intersection of Avenue Edward VII and Szechuan Road, one block behind the Bund, before the mayhem in the street completely blocked traffic. Leo bolted from the car. The driver did not even try to ask for his fare.

A crazed mass of people fled in every direction. Leo grabbed the arm of the first white person he saw. The man’s face was ashen. Bloodstains covered his trousers.

“What’s happened?” Leo bellowed.

“They’ve bombed the Settlement,” the bewildered man answered.

“They’ve blown away the Palace and the Cathay Hotel. There are so many people dead. So much blood. So many people…”

Leo jerked back as if he’d been struck in the face. The man turned and wandered away, still mumbling to himself.

“It’s not true,” Leo shouted at the retreating figure, unwilling to believe what his senses were telling him. Then Leo began to run again, as fast as he had ever run in his life. He shoved or sidestepped the motionless and the hysterical, thrust aside anyone who got in his way. He was at Nanking Road. He turned the corner. He stopped short.

Nothing during the time he’d spent as a soldier during the Great War had prepared him for the human carnage that assaulted his eyes. The Chinese planes had dropped three bombs on the Bund. One bomb landed in the Whangpoo, another in front of the Cathay, and a third
dropped straight through the roof of the Palace, exploding inside the building and blasting away one whole side of the hotel. Mutilated bodies dangled from the wreckage of the Palace like pieces of twisted laundry. Clouds of acrid dust hung low in the air, hovering over loose piles of glass and steel and mortar, now mingled with severed bone, flesh, and blood. A chorus of terror and pain rose from the throats of five hundred wounded. Seven hundred lay dead. European and Asian, young and old, rich and poor, innocent and evil; all were united in a sudden, grisly execution.

A wave of nausea swept over him.
Martha. Maddy.
He ran once more, tripping over bits of rubble and slipping in the blood that ran in the street like rainwater. He repeated their names aloud, over and over, until the mantra became a frenzied cry of horror and hope.

He saw the Cathay, and the crater in front of it. Something caught at his foot, causing him to stumble and fall. It was a small Chinese boy. The bone of his left shin had broken completely through his skin. He howled piteously for help. Leo pushed himself up off the ground and dashed forward. His hands and knees were now drenched in blood.

He climbed through what had been the grand entrance to the Cathay Hotel, calling out the names of his wife and child. There were so many people hurt. Others were there helping, clearing away glass and debris so that the injured could be freed from the wreckage.

And then he heard it, the shrill voice of a frightened little girl, calling to him through the chaos.

“Papa!” Maddy screeched. She raced to him and wrapped her quaking arms around him. Martha was right behind her, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Leo hugged Martha to him, wrapping Maddy between their two grateful bodies. He closed his eyes.

“Oh thank you, dear God,” he sobbed, the first real prayer he had uttered since childhood. “Thank God, thank God. Thank God.” Wiping his eyes, he took one step back to inspect them.

“You aren’t hurt?” It was a plea, not a question.

“No, we’re all right,” replied Martha, as if she didn’t quite believe her own words.

“Then let’s get out of here.” He wiped his hands off on his tennis shorts, then whipped off his shirt and tore off a long strip of fabric, trying to use a piece that was not sullied with blood.

He squatted down next to Maddy, gave her a kiss, and another big hug. Then he looked her straight in the eyes. “My brave little princess, I’m going to cover your eyes with this and carry you away from here. You put your face in my shoulder and don’t even think about looking up until I tell you to. Do you understand?”

Maddy nodded, her little chin still trembling. Leo turned the strip of fabric into a blindfold and tied it around Maddy’s closed eyes. Before picking her up he said to Martha, “Keep your eyes on the ground, Martha. Don’t look around you. Hold onto my arm. You’ve already seen enough.”

“I’ll try.” She managed a weak smile.

“That’s my girl.” Picking a careful path through the rubble and the gore, Leo led his family home.

He waited until they had each taken a warm bath, changed into comfortable silk pajamas, and had a bowl of hot broth, provided by a pinch-faced Wei Lin. He waited until Maddy fell asleep on the big bed in her
parent’s room, nestled between her parents, one small hand holding that of her father, the other tucked into her mother’s. He waited until he and Martha were settled together on the overstuffed leather couch in the parlor, a decanter of brandy on the table in front of them. Then he began.

“Martha, we have to leave Shanghai.”

“I know.”

He picked up a lock of her hair and let it ripple through his fingers. What would he have done if he had lost them today? What reason would he have to go on living? He must find somewhere safe for them. He did not care what price he had to pay, as long as they were safe.

“It may not be so easy for me to get out. There are…well, there are some things about me that you don’t know.”

He stood up, and took a step away from her, running his hand over his head and down the back of his neck as he did so. When he turned around to face her he saw the question in her eyes.

“You see, Martha, I was not entirely truthful with you about why I came to Shanghai. There was more to my story. But I was afraid that you’d leave me if you knew the truth. I was afraid I would lose you. And I knew I couldn’t bear it.”

She did not interrupt. She looked at him and waited. He had no idea how long she’d been waiting.

Leo paused again, not sure where to start. Then the truth poured out.

“I killed a man. When I was in Paris. Imre Károly, the chief of police in Budapest, was found dead in my hotel room because I killed him. I killed him in self-defense, but there were no witnesses. And I probably could have gotten away without killing him, but I wanted him dead.
He’d murdered my foster mother and uncle. And then I stole a diamond necklace from him, a necklace I knew had been paid for with counterfeit francs. I stole it because I knew it was the only way I could ever hope to be with you.”

Martha listened, immobile on the couch. “When I came to Shanghai I sold the diamonds to one of the most powerful men in China. You know of him. Liu Tue-Sheng. He’s powerful because he’s rich, and ruthless, and behind almost everything illegal that happens in this part of China. But I sold him the diamonds anyway, because I was desperate. And then I made even more money in a commodities market manipulation that Liu somehow pulled off. So I was rich. Then you came to Shanghai. I had everything.

“But the stock market crash wiped me out. I didn’t have the heart to tell you then. You were so excited about the baby, and I so badly wanted to give you both a beautiful life. Liu found out about my predicament and he, well, he made me go to work for him.

“I really am wanted for murder, Martha, and Liu is holding a valid warrant for my arrest. It may be, with all the time that has passed, that I’d be safe, that no one is still looking for me. But they’d start looking the minute that Liu turned me in. He’d make sure of it. Not only because I’m a valuable commodity for him, but because to do otherwise would show he was merciful, a weakness that a person in his business can’t afford. So I’m stuck here. But you aren’t. So you and Maddy must leave.”

He sat down in a chair across from her, afraid to go any closer. A long, fluid silence filled the space between them, ebbing and flowing into different emotions: remorse and anger, contrition and indignation, sympathy and sorrow.

Fighting back her tears, Martha finally spoke. “What do you mean, you work for Liu Tue-Sheng? You work at the bank. How can Liu keep you here?”

“I spy on people, Martha,” Leo said flatly, his self-deprecation obvious. “I eavesdrop, and uncover secrets, and collect dirty laundry. I’m an informant. And in exchange for the information I provide, Liu Tue-Sheng, member of the board of the Commerce Bank of China, puts money into my account every month. I chalk it all up to commissions on new business.”

Martha looked down at her hands, then up at the ceiling, then to the door. When she faced Leo again, her face was twisted with pain.

“I could forgive you for almost anything, Leo,” she began. “I know that if you killed that man in Paris, you had a reason. And I know that if you took something or did something to survive that you did what you truly believed you had to do. I’m not as naïve as you think I am. I know that after the war people did things they wouldn’t otherwise do, just to survive, and these times we live in are in some ways no less challenging. But it’s so hard for me to accept that you didn’t trust me. That from the very beginning, you didn’t trust me. That you couldn’t trust me to forgive you for what you did, out of love for me, thinking that an easy life was more important to me than the truth. And I don’t know if I can forgive you for what your guilt has done to you. And done to us.” She buried her face in her hands.

The sight of Martha in tears sent a fresh torrent of guilt raging through him. He pressed his fists together, fighting the urge to reach for her, searching for words to explain why he’d taken so long to confess.

“At first I thought I was protecting you; first you, and then Maddy. I wanted you to be happy. To be with me, and to be happy. I didn’t know
what love was, until I met you. I thought that true love was fragile and precious, and I was afraid to test its limits. I’d already put you through so much, abandoning you in Paris and then asking you to come to Shanghai. I thought that by not telling you the truth I was keeping you safe. But now I see that I was only protecting myself. Not just my life, but what I wanted our life together to be.”

Leo’s voice caught in his throat, and he did not know how much longer he could go on talking. “All I can say is, I am so sorry, my darling. I never wanted things to be this way. I just wanted you to be with me, and be happy. But now you and Maddy are better off without me. You must go to a place where you can be safe, and I can’t keep you safe here. I want you to join your sister and her family when they get to France.”

Martha did not answer. She continued to cry as Leo took a seat beside her. He stroked her shoulder tentatively, still afraid to touch her, afraid he would upset her even more.

“Whatever I’ve done, Martha,” he said, his voice breaking, “whatever I’ve done, I’ve done loving you.”

He closed his eyes and kissed her hair; tenderly, reverently, trying to convey in that single act how precious she was to him.

Still crying, Martha jerked her head away. As she moved she felt him cringe. Then, like a disciplined rider pulling hard on the reins of a runaway horse, she pulled herself away from her anger.
There’s no time for this. There’s no time for anger. Not now.
If it was within her to forgive him then she must forgive him now. Their circumstances could not tolerate indecision. She took a deep breath and turned her head toward his.

Engulfed by grateful passion, Leo kissed her face, her throat, and her neck. He swept her silk pajamas off her body, and he worshiped her.

Lost in his ardent caresses, she smiled. She had her husband back. The man she loved; the man with whom she shared her life, a life that could not be beautiful or complete without him. Yet something that had been perfect was no longer so, and would never be again.

“I won’t leave without you,” she whispered later, as they drifted into a healing sleep.

“We’ll see.” Leo’s heart glowed with renewed strength. Martha loved him. She would always love him. He felt invincible.

The next day the Chinese government issued its official apology. An accident. The bombing of the Bund by the Chinese pilots had been an accident. And fifteen minutes after the first three bombs had devastated the Bund, two more fell at the intersection of Avenue Edward VII and Tibet Road. One struck the Great World Amusement Center. On Thursday it had been a six-story fun house, entertaining visitors with tight rope walkers, acrobats, gambling tables, slot machines, professional letter-writers, fortune tellers, shooting galleries, ice cream shops, dumpling stands, prayer temples, and women of ill repute. On Friday it had been converted into a refugee center. On Saturday it became a pyramid of death for a thousand people, most of them Chinese, who’d come to the Settlement to escape the war. Flesh and shrapnel from the explosion rained down on the Englishmen playing cricket at a nearby park. Also an accident.

The significance of what had happened was not lost on the Shanghailanders. Intentionally or not, Chiang had broken the rules. If the
Taipans and their families, their homes and their silver, their port and their ponies, if all that could not be safe, then Shanghai would cease to exist. Already, the evacuations had started. The British wives and their children boarded the
Rajputana
, bound for Hong Kong. American families sailed away on the
President Taft,
Germans on the
Oldenburg
. Shanghai was now a war zone, the myth of its sanctity exposed. It was time to leave.

But for the outcasts, for all those no longer welcome in their native land, leaving the city was not so easy. To leave, you needed permission to enter another country, permission that was not easy to obtain.

The grim reality of the situation soon became clear to Leo and Martha. The Nazi government would not allow Martha to return to Germany, for she was of Jewish heritage. The French government would not allow her to enter France until she could prove she had relatives established there. The United States was similarly out of the question. Even visas for Hong Kong were restricted to British nationals until the immediate refugee crisis had abated. For the time being, there was no decent place for Martha and Maddy to go, even if they were willing to leave without Leo. They would have to wait.

After a few uneventful days, the remaining foreign residents of the city emerged from hiding. Perhaps the boundaries of the French Concession and the International Settlement would be respected after all; there did not seem to be any compelling reason to stay inside. If not, well, an errant bomb could land on one’s house as easily as it could land on the country club.
May as well go have a drink
, mused the Shanghailanders as they studied the night sky, painted a macabre red by the incendiary blaze of Japanese bombs pulverizing Hongkew and Nantao. Life was too short to stay thirsty.

Martha and Leo felt safer at home. Their house was in the heart of the residential district of the French Concession; they hoped that its distance from any likely targets would keep them safe. Still, Leo ventured out from time to time for news, and Martha went in search of groceries and other staples, for their Chinese servants refused point-blank to leave the property for fear of being shot or captured by the Japanese.

Nine days after the bombing of the Bund, Maddy bounded into the breakfast room where her parents were finishing their coffee and reading the morning edition of the newspaper. She jiggled her mother’s knee.

“Mama, I have to show you something.”

“Oh yes?” Martha put down her section of the paper. “Should I come see it now?”

“Yes. And you too, Papa.”

“I’ll be along in just a minute, little love. Just let me finish my coffee.”

Maddy made a face. “Finish your
paper
, you mean. Well, then, Mama will be the lucky one, and you’ll have to be second.” With this admonishment, she dragged her mother from the table and into the parlor. Martha saw her daughter’s entire collection of dolls and stuffed animals arranged on the sofa, creating an attentive audience.

Maddy pointed her mother to a vacant chair. “Madame,” she announced solemnly, “the concert is about to begin.”

“Why, thank you.” With gracious decorum, Martha took a seat. Maddy skipped over to the piano bench and executed an elaborate curtsy. Martha applauded. Her daughter then climbed onto the piano bench, her small feet dangling four inches from the floor. For an instant
she posed her ten little fingers over the keys. Then she began to play.

Within seconds Martha’s mouth fell wide open. She listened, astonished, as Maddy played, from beginning to end, an energetic rendition of Scott Joplin’s “Maple Leaf Rag.”

Martha flew to where her child sat beaming with delight and wrapped her in an ardent hug. “That was fantastic. How long did it take you to learn that? Who’s been teaching you? Is this a secret between you and Papa?”

Radiant, Maddy shook her head. “No, Mama. There’s no secret. Gaston, who plays the piano at the club, showed me how to play it. Then I came home and figured out how to do it by myself. I told you, I listen very well.”

“But how did he…could you explain to me a little bit more about
exactly
how you learned to play it?

“Well,” said Maddy, swinging her feet as she thought about her answer, “Gaston played it for me at the club when we were there for dinner with Janine and her parents, so however long ago that was, you know, since you bought the piano for me, I guess. A few days. But I can do it faster now, because now I know where all the sounds are in the keys. But I can’t reach the pedals. It would sound better if I could reach the pedals.”

“Leo,” called Martha, moving toward the door. “Leo, come here. You have to hear this.”

They bumped into each other at the doorway. Leo caught sight of the pile of stuffed animals and dolls on the couch.

“How marvelous. A concert. May I listen to the encore?”

“By all means. Go ahead, darling, play your song for Papa.”

Maddy gave Leo a sly sideways smile then turned her attention
back to the keyboard. She played the piece once again, flawlessly.

Leo clapped enthusiastically. “Brava, Brava,” he called as Maddy stood up to take a bow. Then he turned to Martha. “Well, I guess the joke’s on me. How long has she been taking lessons?”

“She hasn’t had any lessons. She taught herself. In just two weeks. Isn’t that right, Maddy?”

“Hmm hmm.” Maddy turned a fidgety pirouette. She was starting to get nervous. Her father had a funny look on his face. Maybe it was time to stop talking.

Leo motioned for Maddy to sit back down on the piano bench, and then sat beside her. Martha started to speak, but Leo held up his hand to silence her.

“Maddy, did you really teach yourself how to play that song?”

Maddy nodded.

“How did you do it?”

Maddy hesitated. She so wanted her father to be happy with her. She hoped her explanation would please him.

“Well, Papa, you see, each of these keys makes a sound. Gaston told me it is a special musical sound, called a ‘note.’ Here is ‘C,’ then ‘D.’ It goes up to ‘G,’ but that’s all, and then it just repeats itself, so it’s really easier than the alphabet. The black keys are ‘sharp’ for up, and ‘flat,’ for down. If you fall, you fall down flat, so that’s easy to remember.

“Gaston played this song for me, a few times, and I listened very well, and then I came home and learned where each note lives on my piano, so that I could play it. So that’s all. It wasn’t too hard.” She flashed him an uncertain little smile.

Martha could not restrain herself. “Leo, is that possible? Could she really be so talented? Just naturally gifted?”

“I suppose so.” He thought about his own gift. Words were, after all, sounds. They made sense to him in a way he knew made him different from other people. Musical notes could live in Maddy’s little head just as easily as six languages now inhabited his.

Then he noticed the look on his daughter’s face. “Maddy, my magnificent Madeleine, don’t be afraid. We think it’s wonderful.
You’re
wonderful.” He picked her up and spun her through the air before setting her down in front of the crowded couch. Her concern alleviated, Maddy giggled, basking in her father’s praise.

“Now,” Leo said in a mock-serious tone, wagging his finger at the population on the sofa, “if we are to have concerts here fit for royalty, don’t you think a new doll is in order? A new queen for your collection? Someone worthy of your performances?”

“Really, Papa? But my birthday is past already, and Christmas is so far away.”

“Nonsense. A pianist with your talent deserves a regal audience. You will have lessons starting tomorrow. And I will ride my stallion to court and invite her highness, the queen of fairyland, to come and pay you tribute.”

Maddy glanced at her mother, expecting her to intervene. But Martha’s face showed no disapproval; her eyes glowed with pride. She looked back at her father. He, too, was gazing at her with unabashed adoration.

Normally, Maddy was not a greedy child. But there was one thing she wanted with all of her girlish heart; she saw her opportunity, and took it.

“Papa, there is a doll. She’s so beautiful. We saw her at the department store. Do you remember, Mama? The ballerina? She’s a
queen, I guess. She’s wearing a tiara. Mama, would it be all right?”

“Of course, darling. I think if we are to have such fabulous concerts in the house, a new doll would be perfectly appropriate.”

Leo tapped his blissful little prodigy on the forehead. “Then you shall have it; and you shall have it in time for a concert at tea.”

“Can we all go?” Maddy asked, her face full of joyful expectation. Again, Martha looked at Leo. He considered Maddy’s question carefully before answering. “It should be safe. The department stores are as far from the harbor as our house, and even farther away from the French Concession border. It will do us good to get out. We can even see if there is anywhere open for lunch.”

The cheerful group set out on its expedition just before noon. Refugees were still flooding into the Settlement from the Chinese Municipality of Greater Shanghai, as well as the surrounding countryside. Their street-clogging presence made driving difficult. It took a good thirty minutes to make what should have been a ten-minute trip.

When the car reached the point where the two huge stores, Wing On and Sincere’s, flanked Nanking Road, they discovered that parking was impossible. Leo tapped their driver on the shoulder.

“Just leave it running right here. I’ll dash in. You can’t cause any bigger traffic jam than what’s already here. Shouldn’t take five minutes.”

“But you don’t know which doll it is, Papa,” Maddy pointed out logically. “I have to come, too.”

A uniformed traffic policeman tapped on the windshield. “Please keep it moving, sir. With all these extra bodies in the road, we can’t be blocking traffic. Move along.”

“Leo,” Martha broke in quickly, “I know just which doll it is. You stay here with Maddy in the car, and drive around the block. I’ll be back
here in five minutes, and we’ll just go home for lunch.” She leaned over and gave her husband a quick kiss, then hopped out before he could protest.

“Five minutes,” he called after her, savoring the taste of her kiss. The policeman tapped on the window again. Maddy opened it and looked up at him. “My mama went to get me a doll.”

“Very nice,” he replied cheerfully. “Now tell your daddy to move along, or I’ll have to give him a ticket.”

Leo playfully saluted the officer. “As you wish, sir. Go around the block, Peter. In this traffic that alone will take us more than ten minutes.” The driver complied, edging the car into the morass of automobiles and other wheeled contraptions.

Martha quickly maneuvered her way into the busy department store. She went directly to where a display of porcelain dolls from Austria were arranged in a large glass case and spotted Maddy’s choice immediately. Sixteen inches tall, with fair pink skin and blushing cheeks, the doll’s chestnut hair was braided around her head and adorned with a tiara of Bavarian crystal. Martha flagged down a saleswoman, who unlocked the case and retrieved the coveted dancer.

“A pretty doll for a pretty girl?”

“The best, the most beautiful little girl. I’d like it gift-wrapped, please.”

“Certainly, Madame.” Martha followed the saleswoman to her register. She opened her purse and dug around for her wallet. As she did so she heard a noise. An odd noise, above the din of the crowd.

She looked around. What was that strange sound? It was high and thin, like a shrill voice stretched taut, melting into a scream. No, a whine. A metallic, whistling whine.

Within seconds the laws of physics ruthlessly eviscerated the expectations of humanity. The first floor of Sincere’s was obliterated. One side of Wing On collapsed. A thousand people died instantly, or bled quickly to death. The hysterical survivors, insane with fear, screamed and stampeded through the forest of broken glass and dismembered bodies. Outside the corpse of the traffic policeman dangled from the electric wires overhead, like a gruesome marionette, directing the dance of death beneath him. A broken water main sent a bloody waterfall cascading into the street.

Martha had no time to react, no time for fear, and no time for regrets. She had no time to remember the sweet touch of Leo’s caress, or the feeling of Maddy’s slender arms around her neck. She had no time to remember the smell of Bavarian wildflowers in early spring, the sound of her mother’s voice, or to picture her husband and daughter together at the breakfast table. She heard a wall of noise, and felt a rippling sheet of pain. And then, darkness.