Heart of Lies (26 page)

In the middle of the harbor sat an American destroyer, making a stop on its way back to Hawaii. Under the ship’s lights Leo could see signs of the busy activity that meant the ship would sail out with the
morning tide. It was the only military ship in port at the moment, but there seemed to be many there these days. Mostly Japanese.

“Always a striking view, isn’t it?”

Leo turned to find the American consul standing beside him. He offered Leo his hand. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Hoffman. I believe we met at Victor Sassoon’s event last fall.”

As they shook hands Leo thought it unlikely that the diplomat actually remembered him. The event he referred to had been thrown in the consul’s honor, shortly after he took up his post, by the richest man in Shanghai. There’d been hundreds of people there, and Leo said no more than a few obligatory pleasantries to the man while going through the receiving line. Something was up.

“How gracious of you to remember me, sir.”

“Well, to be honest, you’ve come to my attention since then. Do you have a moment? Very good. Let’s take this table. Allow me to refresh your drink.” He signaled to a waiter, who whisked away Leo’s half-empty gin and tonic. In an instant the two men were seated next to the plate glass window, and Leo possessed a fresh drink.

“Cheers,” said the consul. Leo lifted his glass, waiting for the other man to start the conversation.

“Tell me, Mr. Hoffman, did you fight in the last war, or were you too young?”

“Both.”

“Clever enough. Which side?”

“The losing side.”

“And you chose not to stay in Germany. What brought you to Shanghai?”

“What brings anyone here? Money. Opportunity. Fate.”

“Yet you’ve stayed, when many in your position would have left. Why?”

“I had nothing to go back to.”

“In Germany, you mean?”

“Anywhere in Europe.”

“I see.”

“No, you probably don’t. For one thing, I’m not German. I’m Hungarian. After the Communist Revolution in 1919, it was impossible to get a visa to go anywhere. The whole world saw Hungary as a sort of virus-laden body politic, capable of spreading Bolshevism across the globe. Those of us who did get out were not always welcome back.”

“Ah, so you’re a closet communist.”

“Hardly,” Leo snapped, more bitterly than he’d intended. “Though I knew some people who were, and things ended badly for them. No, I’m an apolitical beast. I came to Shanghai to make a large fortune out of a small one. I did, and I stayed.”

“It’s that simple?”

“It’s that simple.”

The consul took another sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair. “I know several people who think very highly of you.”

“I’m flattered.”

“They say you’re a man of unusual talent, and very trustworthy. I’m looking for those kind of men.”

“I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

“Sir, if you’ll forgive my bluntness, there’s a war in Europe and a war in Asia. War will soon engulf the world. The United States will not stay neutral forever. I know many people, and I speak several languages.
There’s only one type of work I could do for you, and I’m not interested in doing it. But thank you for asking.”

“Good. I would have been suspicious if you’d been too keen on the idea. Now please listen to my proposal. There are times in a man’s life when he is asked to do something for reasons that go beyond his own happiness—”

“Someone made me a similar offer many years ago. It did not turn out well.”

“You worked for the Hungarian government?”

“No. I was a pawn in the hands of men who wanted to overthrow it. At any rate, politics does not interest me, in covert, overt, or any other form.”

“What do you do?”

“I stay alive.”

“Why?”

“Inertia.”

“I’ve heard many things about you, Mr. Hoffman, but no one told me that that you were a cynic. We’re all going to die. The question is why go on living. For money? For your country? For your daughter?”

Leo’s expression did not change. “What about my daughter?”

“I know your daughter is in America. I know you entered into a paper marriage with an American citizen days after your wife was killed to get your child out of Shanghai. And I know you didn’t go with her, even though legally you could have. Why not?”

“I have my reasons.”

“I’m sure. And I suspect they have something to do with honor, and loyalty.”

“Don’t be too sure of anything.”

“Good advice. Mr. Hoffman, you’ve lived for years without a country. I’m prepared to offer you one. In September, President Roosevelt signed a special executive order making any foreign national of good moral character who joined the American military eligible for U.S. citizenship. The United States Navy could use you. Specifically, the Office of Naval Intelligence.”

“Did Commodore Ballard have anything to do with this?”

“A little. He mentioned that he’d had some personal dealings with you. Said you’re the kind of person people confide in, that a Father Confessor would come to you to clear his conscience, and he thinks you speak at least five languages. He was impressed.”

“Too easily.”

“I think not.”

“What makes you think that I wouldn’t just become a double agent? Sell secrets to the highest bidder?”

“Well for one thing, we know your first wife was Jewish. At least she would be according to Hitler with a maiden name like ‘Levy,’ even if she were Catholic when you married her, as it indicates on your marriage certificate. No one who knew you then doubts how much you loved her. I’d count on that to keep you from helping the Germans this time.”

“And the Soviets?”

“We have to fight one war at a time, Mr. Hoffman.”

“You do. I don’t. I’ve fought all the battles I’m going to fight.”

The consul tipped his glass toward Leo in a silent salute. “Very well. It’s seems you really aren’t interested. That’s a disappointment.”

“Thanks for the drink.” Leo shoved his chair away from the table. Outside he could see the lights blinking on the American ship.
America. Maddy.

Why was he walking away from this? If Liu found out and sabotaged this plan, then Leo would only suffer the fate he’d long deserved. He leaned back toward the consul.

“I’ll need a passport. Mine was lost in ’37, during the bombings.” The other man smiled. “I believe that can be arranged.”

“And I want to leave tomorrow. On that ship. If I take my time getting ready to go, questions will be asked. People disappear in Shanghai all the time. Just let everyone assume the worst.”

“Ah, there, you’re in luck. I know the captain. I’m sure we can make arrangements for you to travel as my private guest. And if he thinks I’ve made a mistake, he’ll just drop you off somewhere in the middle of the Pacific.”

“That’s all right. I know how to swim.”

Leo’s interviews, or “debriefings” as Captain Herbert Lewis called them, started soon after the ship reached the China Sea. He told the truth about himself, editing out only the two facts he thought worked against him: that he had taken the Cartier necklace with him to Shanghai, and that he was on Liu Tue-Sheng’s payroll. But he told his interrogators everything else: that he came from a peasant family in Hungary, and had been adopted by a wealthy Jewish family in Budapest. He told them that his family had been killed in the Great War, in which he had fought for two years; that his foster mother had been assassinated during the terror following the communist coup; but that he had no connection to the Communist Party. He told them that he’d worked as a concierge at the Hotel Bristol until he was recruited by a Hungarian nationalist group. He told them that he’d killed one of their members in Paris, in self-defense, after he’d discovered that he’d unwittingly
played a part in their counterfeiting scheme. And, he explained, it was that murder that caused him to flee to Shanghai.

“What happened to the necklace?” asked the lieutenant in charge of his interrogation.

“I don’t know. I left it in the hotel room with Károly’s body. I imagine Janos Bacso retrieved it, or the maid stole it. I’d left the country by nightfall.”

“How did you get to Shanghai?”

“I took the money Károly had in his wallet. It was a considerable sum, in English pounds. Probably received in exchange for counterfeit francs, but at the time I didn’t give the matter much thought. I had to get out of Paris, and I couldn’t go home.”

“And in Shanghai?”

“I was lucky. I invested what little capital I had and made a mint in the rubber boom of ’26. So I sent for Martha. All went well until ’29. Then I had to start over, so I got a job at the bank.”

“And then you lost your wife in ’37.”

Lost my wife.
“A rather stupid euphemism. Yes. My wife died.”

“Is there anyone who might be able to corroborate any of your story?”

“In Shanghai, no. It’s a very private place, and most of the people who were there in ’26 left in ’37. I suppose you might try to get hold of a man by the name of Lawrence Cosgrove, if he’s still around, in London. He worked for an architectural firm: Leeds and Gates, I believe.

“And your second wife?”

“A casual acquaintance. She did me a tremendous favor, getting Maddy out. No one knew how bad it would get, you see, and Martha—”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hoffman. I know this is painful for you, but we need complete information.”

“Of course.”

“And why haven’t you tried to get to the United States before now? After all, you’re technically the spouse of a citizen, and your child is there.”

“I was afraid that if I applied for a visa, something about my past might surface. The possibility of being sent back to France for murder does something to chill one’s mobility.”

“I see. Is there anyone in Budapest we could contact who could verify any of this information?”

“I have no idea. Well, I suppose there may be someone left at the Bristol who remembers me. And there was a family friend. A Countess. Julia Podmaniczky. If she’s still alive.”

Later, in the captain’s private quarters, the lieutenant presented his findings. “We’ll know more if we can locate these people he’s mentioned. But what if he’s not telling the whole truth about the counterfeiting mess? What if he was in on the whole scheme from the beginning, and just bailed out to Shanghai?”

“What if he was, lieutenant? We’re not looking for Boy Scouts. We’re looking for spies. I’m sure we can trace newspaper stories about that counterfeiting incident. And that was a long time ago. He was twenty-five then; he’s forty now. The fact he came clean about it says a lot.”

“I hope so, sir. There’s one more detail. He would like to go to New York and visit his daughter before going into training.”

“Sounds fair. Did he say how long?”

“A week.”

“You mean he hasn’t seen his child in over two years, and he only wants a week?”

“Yes.”

“Did he say why?”

“He said if he were you, he’d have him followed during that time to make sure that he wasn’t making any enemy contacts, and he didn’t want to put you to more than a week’s worth of trouble.”

“Good Lord. Well, he’s either perfect, or a perfect fake. I’ll wire ahead to have his sources checked before we reach San Francisco, but I have a good feeling about this Mr. Leopold Hoffman. I think he’s okay.”

“I hope you’re right.”

NEW YORK, 1939

On an unseasonably warm day in mid-December, Katherine and Maddy emerged from St. Agnes Catholic School, in the company of fifty other girls equally impatient to make their escape. Above the gaggle of voices and the busy sounds of a New York afternoon, the two heard a familiar voice call:

“Mary Kate! Maddy! Over here, girls.”

Katherine stood still, squinting with suspicion. “Ma’s come for us. I wonder what for? She never comes to get us at school.”

“We’ll soon find out,” answered Maddy, with more trepidation. “Come on, Katherine. She’s waiting.”

A few quick steps brought them together. Katherine immediately noticed that her mother was dressed up: as well dressed as she had ever seen her, short of a wedding.

“Ma, what are you doing with your Sunday coat on? And a hat? And gloves? And those shoes? Has someone died?”

“Hold yer tongue, ya rascal,” was Mrs. O’Connor’s sharp reply. “Ya
have to see yourself home today, Mary Kate. Maddy and I have somewhere to go.”

A pit full of dread opened in the bottom of Maddy’s stomach. “Me? Where? What’s happened?”

“Here, dear, take me brush and run it through yer hair. That’s it. Lucky yer not one to make a mess of yerself, like my Maureen was. ’Til she was thirteen she could find a way to get her face dirty in church, the Lord knows how. You look fine,” she observed, more to reassure herself than Maddy. “Now let’s be off.”

Katherine refused to be ignored. “Where are you taking Maddy?”

“I’ll thank ya not to be speakin’ to yer mother in that tone of voice, Mary Katherine Anne O’Connor,” Margaret snapped back. She grabbed Maddy’s hand. “We’re goin’ over to Mrs. Hoffman’s. Her father’s sent for her.”

“My father?” Maddy squeaked.

“Her father?” Katherine asked at the same time.

“Aye, her father. She has one, ya know. And he’s here, in New York, and wants to see her. And don’t go asking me any more questions, for that’s all I know. So we’re off. I’ll be home for dinner. And Mary Kate, you help with dinner when ya get home or they’ll be no dinner for you ’til Sunday.”

“IS SHE COMING BACK?” Katherine shouted at her mother as she and Maddy crossed the street.

“I SHOULD THINK SO,” she shouted back, with a good deal more conviction than she felt.

Margaret walked to the corner and hailed a cab. “Yer stepmother sent a boy ’round with cab fare, and said I was to get ya to her place lickety-split. Said yer father is in town and wants to see ya. That’s all I
know, little one, but don’t ya be scared, now. Maggie O’Connor won’t let anything bad happen to ya.”

Mrs. O’Connor kept up a steady stream of conversation, commenting on anything she saw out the window: hats, dogs, other cars. Maddy tried to listen. All she really heard was the pounding of her heart.

As they rode the elevator up to Amelia’s suite, Mrs. O’Connor gave her another critical look, then patted her shoulder. “He’ll be proud of ya, Maddy. Don’t worry,” she said one last time. In a moment they were knocking on the door.

It flew open.

“Madeleine, darling.” Amelia dropped to her knees and hugged the dazed child. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Connor, for bringing her so promptly.” Then she stood up and made the necessary introductions.

“This is Mrs. Margaret O’Connor. She helps me with Madeleine from time to time. In fact, she has a daughter who goes to school with Maddy. Mrs. O’Connor is a treasure. A sweeter woman there never was. Isn’t that right, Maddy?” she finished, searching for confirmation. Maddy stayed silent, her gaze fixed on the man standing behind Amelia.

“Bonjour, ma princesse
,” said Leo.

“Bonjour, Papa.
” She did not move away from the door.

Amelia pulled Maddy into the room. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Connor. We won’t be needing you until next week. My husband will be staying for seven whole days. Isn’t it marvelous?”

“Quite wonderful.” Margaret didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to cross Amelia and then have the woman take it out on Maddy;
she’d have to leave the child there. “Don’t ya fret none, lass,” she whispered to Maddy as she bent down to kiss her goodbye. “I’ll see ya on Monday, sure as there’s a sun and a moon in the sky.”

“Well then, ta-ta,” Amelia chirped, practically shoving Margaret out the door.

Leo had not taken his eyes off his daughter. She was so beautiful. So perfect. And the spitting image of Martha, with his own black hair. At that moment he understood that he’d found the courage to come see her only because he had a commitment that would make it impossible for him to stay. He was afraid of this child: afraid of what she might make him feel. Afraid of what it would do to him to lose her, too. It was easier to pretend that she was already lost. It was easier to disappoint her before she could make her expectations known.

“Well,” said Amelia, her voice dripping with feigned enthusiasm. “Here we are. All back together. What do you say we go out and celebrate? Come, Maddy, let’s change your clothes.” She grabbed Maddy’s arm and headed down the hall and into one of the bedrooms.

To Maddy’s astonishment the room actually looked like it might belong to a young girl. There was a soft pink quilt on the bed, and a collection of white teddy bears sitting on a small white vanity. Several new-looking dresses and a pretty coat hung in the open closet.

“Okay kid, here’s the deal,” said Amelia brusquely as she yanked Maddy’s coat off and then pulled her school uniform over the top of her head. “You make believe you live here, and we’ll get along just fine. You pull any tricks, and when your dad leaves, I’ll send you to a convent in Wyoming. Clear?”

Maddy wasn’t even sure where Wyoming was. She was still hypno
tized by the sight of her father. He looked the same, except nothing was the same. He no longer loved her.

Amelia was still talking. “So this is your room. Don’t offer to show it to your father, but if he peeks in, it’s acceptable. Thank God he called me from the Port Authority, so I had a chance to pick up a few things. Enough to get us through a week, anyway. But a lot of decisions about your future may well be made in the next few days, depending on how things go for me. Do you understand?”

Maddy nodded. She understood nothing, except that she desperately wanted her father to hold her in his arms, and at the same time wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, other than where she was right now.

“All right then. Now, remember, good children do not speak until they are spoken to, and then they give simple answers. You live here, and you go to school at St. Agnes. That’s enough.”

“Don’t you look lovely,” Leo remarked as Maddy and Amelia reentered the room. “Where’s a nice place to go, Amelia?”

“Why, the Rainbow Room. Top of Rockefeller Center. You’ll love it, Leo. And Maddy will, too. We’ve talked about going there when your father got here, haven’t we, Maddy dear?”

“Yes, Amelia.”

“Well then. To the Rainbow Room it is.” His genial tone sounded forced, even to his own ears. “Tell me, Maddy, have you ever tasted a Shirley Temple?”

Hours later, after cocktails and dinner and a long carriage ride in Central Park, Leo and Amelia tucked Maddy into bed, as if she really lived there, as if the two adults with her were really mother and father to her.

Amelia could not wait to be alone with Leo. She, unlike Maddy, knew her role in the farce they were playing, and had memorized her lines.

“It’s so good to see you again, to know you’re safe,” she cooed once she and Leo were back in her living room. “We’ve been so worried about you.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for Maddy. I know you never expected things to go on this long. Neither did I. But it proved more difficult to get out of Shanghai than I had imagined.”

Amelia drew closer to him. “You don’t owe me any explanation, Madeleine is a delightful child, and I would do it all again in a second…for you.”

“Amelia, I’m sorry. I’ve had our marriage annulled.”

“What?”

“It was a simple enough procedure. We were only married a few hours before you sailed. Non-consummation and desertion.”

The tenderness evaporated from her voice. “But that’s a lie. You deserted me.”

“You have every reason to hate me, I know. I took advantage of your generous offer, and it took me much longer to get here than I thought it would.”

“Hate you? No,” she hastened, recovering her composure. “Of course, I only suggested a paper marriage to help get you—and Madeleine—out of Shanghai alive. Of course, I had no right to expect anything more. It’s just that Madeleine and I have grown so close. I really feel as if she’s my daughter. I know she’ll be so disappointed, if she thinks…of course, I would never want to separate you from your
daughter, but if you’re going away again, well, can’t we just leave things as they are for now? Can’t we just,” she moved closer to him, putting her hands on his shoulders, “can’t we just stay married for a few…more…days?”

She pressed her body into his, and captured his mouth with her own. Elation mingled with her desire as she felt Leo begin to respond to her kiss.

“NO,” Maddy screamed from the doorway. “It’s all lies! She hates me. She never even let me live here. Not that I would want to! But she shut me up with the nuns, and they put me in a closet, and it wasn’t until I ran away, and Mrs. O’Connor let me come live with them that I was happy, Papa. I was happy there. Please let me go back. Please let me go back—” The rest of her words were swallowed by her tears as she collapsed onto the floor.

Leo pushed Amelia away from him, started toward Maddy, then looked back. Amelia averted her eyes, but it was already too late. Leo had seen all he needed to see. Her hatred for Maddy had surfaced long enough for him to know that his daughter was telling the truth.

“Leo,” Amelia implored, as he bent to pick up Maddy, “she’s jealous, that’s all. She doesn’t want to share you.”

“She won’t have to.” Then they were gone.

Amelia stood alone in the room, stunned into silence. Over two years of waiting. Over two years of planning, fretting, and longing, all for nothing. She’d had him, she could feel it. But the brat couldn’t leave well enough alone.

With shaking hands she lit a cigarette and walked into what had briefly been Maddy’s room. She yanked one docile white bear off the vanity and threw it savagely against the wall. She hammered her fist
into the face of another, hitting it until both china eyes were crushed and the seams had split. Then she took her cigarette and buried it in the bear’s nose.

After she’d cried, and was well on her way to becoming quite drunk, she propped the burned and broken bear up in front of her and made herself a promise. Madeleine Hoffman would pay for this. Somehow, someday. The little bitch would pay.

Mrs. O’Connor was startled by the knock on her front door. The boarders came and went as they pleased until ten o’clock. Surely it wasn’t that late. She checked the old clock on the kitchen wall. It was just past nine. Her youngest son was a policeman; any unexpected nighttime visitor sent an instant alert throughout her maternal nervous system. She wrapped her shawl around her housecoat and said a silent prayer as she hustled to the door.

To her bewilderment she found Leo standing there in his shirt-sleeves. He was carrying Maddy, asleep in his arms, wrapped in the jacket of his suit.

“May I please come in?”

Mrs. O’Connor recovered from the brief paralysis caused by the split reactions of surprise and relief. “Of course, sir. You must be freezing. Come lay the little lass in bed. ’Tis this way.”

Leo followed the rumpled figure down a narrow hallway to the left, and then to a small room at the rear of the house. Katherine was already asleep, a warm woolen blanket pulled right up under her chin.

“Put her here,” Mrs. O’Connor whispered, pulling down the covers next to Katherine. Leo did as he was told, bending low to lay his daughter down carefully, then covering her with the blanket. She
mumbled something but did not wake. Brushing his child’s tangled hair away from her face, Leo planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“This way,” whispered his hostess. She was impressed by his way with Maddy. And, she had to admit, by how uncommonly good-looking the man was, with all that black hair and those eyes. Why, she didn’t think she’d ever seen such a handsome man in all her life: not in this country, or in Ireland, either. He didn’t seem like the cold, uncaring parent she’d imagined him to be. There was a story here, and she was determined to hear it.

“Now please,” Margaret said as they sat down in the kitchen, no longer whispering but still speaking softly, “tell me why it is that Maddy’s back here, and not at Mrs. Hoffman’s…I mean, yer apartment.”

Leo sat down in what he hoped was a sturdy chair. He looked at Mrs. O’Connor’s face, and realized he could do nothing but tell her the truth.

“To begin with, Amelia is not my wife.”

“Not yer wife? But Maddy said—”

“She was my wife, but only on paper. It was the only way I could get Maddy out of Shanghai. The marriage has since been annulled. We never lived together as man and wife.”

“The good Lord spared ya something there, sir, if ya don’t mind my sayin’ so.”

Leo gave her a sardonic smile, then continued. “You see, during the summer of ’37, Shanghai was caught in the middle of the war between China and Japan. There were bombs dropped on the city. My wife, Maddy’s mother, was killed.”

“So that much is true.”

“Yes. And I couldn’t get a visa to get out of China, so Amelia of
fered to take Maddy to New York, to keep her safe. I kept thinking there would be a way I could join them, but nothing worked out until now.”

As a member of a large immigrant Irish clan, Margaret was no stranger to the obstacles posed by visas and travel restrictions. That part of his story, also, made sense.

“I’ve written to Maddy often, but I’ve never received any letters from her.”

“Since she’s been with us, she’s not gotten one of them. I can swear to it.”

“After what I heard tonight, that doesn’t surprise me. You see, I only received word about Maddy from Amelia and Sister Gabriella. They told me she was doing well. But tonight Maddy told me the truth. All of it. And I want to thank you for saving my daughter. For giving her a home.”