The Far Side of the Sky (34 page)

Esther turned down the volume. “Those Hawaiian Islands are American soil, Franz. The Japanese have just attacked America.”

Franz hung his head. “I was just at the waterfront, Essie. I saw them sink a British ship!”

Hannah turned to her father. “Papa, will the Japanese take over all of Shanghai now?”

Franz hesitated a moment. “I think so,
liebchen,
yes.”

“They are on the side of the Nazis, aren’t they?” Hannah’s voice cracked with worry. “What will happen to us, Papa?”

“We will be all right,” he said, trying to sound convincing. “The Japanese have controlled Hongkew for over four years, and they have never bothered with the German Jews there. There is no reason to think it will be any different now.”

Hannah chewed on her lip. “And my school?”

“It will work out,” he muttered.

Hannah clutched her doll even tighter to her chest as she struggled to maintain her composure. Months from her twelfth birthday and on the cusp of adolescence, Hannah had sprouted in the past year. But she was
still only a child. “Will we really be all right, Papa?” she asked in a small voice.

The windows shook again with the sound of artillery fire. “Everything will be …” But Franz’s words petered out.

Esther threw an arm around Hannah and pulled her into a tight hug. “The family is together. We are survivors, Hannah. And we have survived worse than this.”

Staring off at the flashes of light outside the window, Hannah said nothing.

Franz turned the volume back up on the wireless. The bleak news drifted in from halfway across the Pacific. “Pearl Harbor was not the only site of Japanese aggression,” the announcer declared. “They have launched simultaneous assaults on the Wake Islands, Guam, the Philippines, Malaysia and Thailand. The safety of the many American expatriates living in the Far East is uncertain at this time.”

Esther glanced over to Franz. “Simon …” she murmured.

She had already lost her husband to one enemy. Franz could not fathom the depth of her worry. “There are thousands of Americans in Shanghai,” he said. “Think of how the Japanese treated the Chinese in Hongkew after the original invasion.”

Esther’s face blanched.
“Oh, mein Gott,”
she croaked.

“Essie, I only mean that the Japanese didn’t arrest them all.”

“We have all seen how the Japanese treat the locals,” she whispered.

“Simon will be all right,” Franz insisted. “He is a survivor too.”

The gunfire and explosions finally quelled after dawn broke. The Adlers maintained their vigil beside the wireless. Hoping to hear news on Shanghai, Franz fiddled with the dial, then tuned in to the most popular local English-language station. The British announcer sounded as confused and frightened as the Adlers felt. “We are told that Japanese marines are storming building after building along the Bund,” the reporter spat out over the static. “The Rising Sun already flies in place of the Union Jack in front of the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank! Good Lord, the Jewel of the Bund has fallen to the enemy!”

A series of rapid knocks rattled the door. Hannah jumped in surprise. Esther and Franz shared worried glances before Franz rose to his feet and padded to the door. “Yes? Who is it?”

“Shan Zhou.”

Franz opened the door to him. Shan’s face was grey. “It’s Ernst,” he said without stepping inside.

“What about Ernst? Is he all right?”

“He will not listen to me.” Shan beckoned Franz out with a frantic wave. “You have to see for yourself. Come with me. Please.”

Franz shook his head. “I cannot leave my family. Not with an invasion going on.”

“The streets are safe,” Shan said. “The Japanese will not enter the French Concession. Not as long as Vichy France still controls Frenchtown.”

Franz saw Shan’s point. Japan was unlikely to go to war with the puppet Vichy regime controlled by her ally, Germany. But Franz was not swayed. “Not now, Shan. Perhaps later.”

Shan looked down at his own hands. “Ernst is going to get himself into trouble. Probably killed.” He looked back up with pleading eyes. “He might listen to you.”

“Ernst doesn’t listen to anyone.”

“Please, Dr. Adler, you must try.”

“Where is he?”

“At home.”

“Franz, you had better go,” Esther piped up. “Hannah and I will be all right.”

Franz hesitated. “You will stay and watch over them?” he asked Shan.

In response, Shan stepped inside, clasped his hands behind his back and took up a post by the door.

Franz strode over to the couch. He hugged his sister-in-law and then embraced his daughter for a long moment, kissing her on the forehead. He freed her from his grip and stared into her eyes. “Your aunt is right,
liebchen.
We are going to be all right. Do you understand?”

She cracked a brave smile. “Yes, Papa.”

Outside, for a confused moment Franz wondered if it had snowed, then realized that the streets had been papered with leaflets dropped from the sky. He scooped up a page and saw it was written in English, Chinese and French. “Be advised,” the terse announcement read, “the Imperial Japanese Army will occupy the International Settlement at 1000 hours this eighth day of December. Any persons in uniforms of other nationalities or bearing arms will be treated as hostile. Any persons suspected of resistance will be shot on sight.”

Franz looked at his watch: 9:05. He took off in a sprint, slipping occasionally on the leaflets. He arrived within five minutes at Ernst’s apartment just off Avenue Joffre. It filled the top floor of a building that housed a furrier and a Russian restaurant on the main floor.

Unshaven, Ernst wore a black housecoat and pyjama bottoms. “Shan sent you,” he grunted from the doorway.

“Yes.” Franz stepped inside.

As usual, the smell of borscht and something less palatable from the restaurant below pervaded the loft-like space. Along one wall, easels held up various-sized canvases. Franz didn’t even pay attention to the images until he had crossed half the floor. The sudden recognition froze him in mid-stride. “Ernst, you can’t!” Franz instantly understood why the artist had always insisted on advance notice so that he could store his latest work out of sight.

Ernst flapped his hand toward the paintings. “Two years I’ve been working on nothing else. And now, a week before the debut, that coward, Lawrence Solomon, telephones to say he is cancelling my show.”

Franz couldn’t peel his eyes off the largest of the oils. In the painting, a Chinese woman who was naked from the waist down lay on the ground with her legs splayed open. She had been impaled through the vagina by a steel standard. The pool of bright blood between her legs was the same red as that of the Rising Sun flag that hung off the standard. Eyes open
and face contorted with helplessness, the staked woman held a desperate hand out to the viewer.

Several other paintings—depicting acts of murder, torture and rape—stood on either side of the central canvas. The images never explicitly revealed the perpetrators, but Ernst conveyed them via symbols such as the Rising Sun and samurai swords.

Franz grabbed his head in his hands. “My God, Ernst! If the Japanese see these, do you have any idea what they will do?”

Hands on his hips, Ernst shook his head. “The world needs to see what they have done! If not Solomon, I will find another dealer and gallery willing to show them.”

Franz gestured to the windows. “The Japanese are here now. They control
all
of Shanghai.”

“So what would you have me do?” Ernst asked calmly. “Should I just abandon my convictions? Toss away my principles because it is convenient?”

“Convenient?” Franz groaned. “Are you trying to be a martyr?”

A wry smile crossed Ernst’s face. “Why not? Martyrdom is invariably beneficial to an artist’s reputation. Taking the very-long-term view, it would be good for my career too.”

A cold rush filled Franz. He recognized that, behind the sarcasm, Ernst was not bluffing. “And Shan?”

Ernst’s face creased with suspicion. “What about him?”

“Are you prepared to sacrifice him for your art also?”

“How so?”

“Do you not think that the Japanese will track down your source and muse?”

Ernst opened his mouth but said nothing. His eyes clouded with uncertainty.

Franz shook a finger at the orgy of violence portrayed on the canvases. “This is how they treated Shan’s family in Nanking in 1937. What do you imagine they will do to him now, if they associate him with this … this embarrassment?”

Ernst paled. “I suppose I never thought about it in those terms.” “Well, you had better start.”

“Perhaps it’s best if I hide these paintings until—” “Not hide, Ernst. You must destroy them!”

“Sunny, have you heard?” Simon uttered in disbelief, even though he had predicted war only the day before. “Yes,” she breathed into the receiver.

“On our own soil, too!” Simon cried. “Those sneaky sons of bitches declared war by surprise-bombing the naval port! Our poor sailors never stood a chance. I thought the Japanese were supposed to be all about honour and dignity.”

“Is there any real dignity in war?” she asked.

“Not the way the Japs fight it.” He exhaled and his tone calmed. “Sunny, are you okay?”

“I am all right. And you, Simon? Are you somewhere safe?” “Yeah, I’m fine. Just boiling mad is all.”

“Have you spoken to Esther?” Sunny asked, though she was thinking more of Franz.

“She’s at home with Hannah.” Sunny sat up straighter. “Not Franz?”

“He had to go see his artist friend about something or other. But he’s okay. Matter of fact, I’m heading over there right after I hang up.”

“You will be careful, Simon, won’t you?” “Always am, Sun.”

“It’s different now,” she pointed out. “They will control the whole city soon.”

Simon sighed into the receiver again. “Who’s going to look after our refugees now?”

“You need to worry more about yourself, Simon.”

“Nah, I always land on my feet. It’s the refugees that have got me troubled. And what will become of the hospital?”

“The Japanese have controlled Hongkew for years. They have never bothered with the refugees or the hospital. Why would that change now?”

“The Marines and the Brits used to be just across the bridge in case of trouble,” Simon pointed out. “The Japanese had to be on their best behaviour. Who’s watching them now?”

What we have seen so far is their best behaviour?
The night of her father’s murder flashed to her mind. “Why would they care about a group of German Jews?” she asked.

“They’re not Germans anymore. Hitler revoked their citizenship.” Simon snorted. “Besides, the CFA is still feeding and housing almost ten thousand refugees. Even if the Japanese leave us alone, where will we come up with the dough to pay for it?”

“Why will the CFA stop paying now?”

“All our cash comes from a few established Jewish families like the Sassoons and the Kadoories
or
the Joint Distribution Committee. Those Sephardic families are all Brits. The JDC is a Jewish relief organization based out of New York.” He sighed once again. “One thing’s for sure: the Japanese won’t let money continue to flow in from the enemy.”

Sunny saw his point.
Ten thousand mouths to feed. A hospital to stock.

“We’ll find another way,” she said.

“Yeah, after all, isn’t necessity supposed to be the mother of something or other good?” Simon chuckled grimly. “Once I check on Essie, I’m going to head on over to the hospital.”

“I will meet you there,” she said.

“No, Sunny. You stay put until things are more settled.”

“I’m just another Chinese in a city teeming with them, Simon. How much worse could they treat us?” she said with far more certainty in her voice than she felt.

“At least wait for me to call and tell you the coast is clear. I hear they’re marching up Nanking Road as we speak.”

“Oh, no!” Sunny squeezed the receiver. “My housekeeper, Yang! She insisted on going out for supplies this morning. She was heading to Nanking Road.”

“She should be okay. It’s only a parade, that’s all.”

Sunny checked the clock. Yang had been gone for over two hours. The tiny woman was so terrified of the Japanese that she had not ventured into Hongkew once during its four years of occupation.
What if Yang panics and tries to run from them? She might make herself look guilty!

Outside, a canopy of grey clouds darkened the sky. Only a few people scurried along the sidewalk. The ground was still dry, but the streets were littered with the aerial-dropped leaflets. The damp breeze sent a few sheets cartwheeling down the road like tumbleweed.

The Buick was parked at the curb, but it took Sunny a moment to spot Fai, who uncharacteristically already sat behind the wheel. “Fai, please take me to Nanking Road,” she said as she climbed inside.

Fai’s head snapped in her direction. “Missy, the dwarf bandits are on Nanking Road!”

“So is Yang.”

Without another word, Fai started the ignition. Normally, the traffic would have been bumper to bumper by this time of the morning, but the roads were so deserted that Fai could have driven into the oncoming lane without fear of hitting another car. One street before Nanking Road, they ran into a barricade formed by two military vehicles parked askew across the intersection. A Japanese soldier levelled a machine gun at their windshield, while another chopped his arm up and down, indicating for Fai to turn the car around.

Fai screeched the tires in his hurry to back away from them. As soon
as he had spun the Buick around, he looked over his shoulder. “No good, Missy. We go home now.”

Sunny shook her head. “Drop me off at the corner.”

“Missy …”

Sunny shot him a look that silenced him. He eased the car over to the curb and let her out. The sky had darkened even more with the imminent threat of rain. Pamphlets swirled at her feet. Sunny steeled herself with two deep breaths and then headed for Nanking Road. She veered off the main street and ducked down an alley until she found a path between buildings that took her out to Nanking.