Night Angels(57)

“It is most unfortunate, Fengshan, yet we must have China’s best interest in mind. Germany’s former ambassador to China has privately confided in me his concern that the relationship between Germany and China is facing a test because we accepted a great number of Jews, who are Germany’s enemies. If we continue to offer help to Germany’s enemies, how could we ask for allegiance from the Third Reich and persuade them to sell us weapons?”

The weapons, especially the aircraft, were essential to fighting the Japanese. But as much as Fengshan respected his superior and hoped for the success of the weapons purchase, he couldn’t help questioning why it was in his country’s best interest to pursue a relationship with a government that relentlessly persecuted its own people and drove them to despair. Besides, the Third Reich’s commitment to the weapons sale had yet to be affirmed—the meeting that the ambassador longed for remained elusive, and Hitler had deliberately ignored China, favoring their enemy, Japan, instead. If he could speak candidly to his superior, he would dare say that seeking a diplomatic relation with Germany might no longer bear fruit for the long-term goal of his country’s security and prosperity. The weapons must be obtained from another country.

“Respectfully, Ambassador Chen, we have remained Germany’s stalwart partner for years, but their goodwill remains to be seen. Have they agreed to a meeting for the weapons sale yet?”

“It’s not finalized, but I have verbal consent. The meeting will happen sometime in February next year. Halt the visa issuance until my further notice. This is my order.”

Fengshan searched his mind desperately for some powerful logic, reasoning, or excuse. Suddenly it occurred to him: the telegram he’d received from the Ministry. “Ambassador Chen, may I be allowed to bring this to your attention—the Ministry of Foreign Affairs approved a lenient policy regarding the Jews in October. They sent me a telegram, ordering the consulate to enact a policy of leniency and tolerance toward this very minority.”

There was silence on the other side of the phone. “The Ministry of Foreign Affairs is sheltered in a hut on a cliff with Japanese fighters circling above their heads. Their decision is outdated, and now they have lost communication with people beyond the foothill of the mountain. Pay no heed to the telegram from the Ministry, Fengshan. Follow my order.”

Ambassador Chen, his direct superior, oversaw his job performance and reported his merits and demerits to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs at home. His approval and assessment determined his career. Any objections Fengshan raised would be considered impertinence to his superior. “Yes, Ambassador Chen.”

Fengshan put down the phone. As a follower of Confucianism, he knew well the essential social order—Jun jun, Cheng cheng, Fu fu, Zi zi: a ruler rules; a minister ministers; a father acts as a father; a son behaves as a son. He, a subordinate, had considered it his duty to obey his superior’s order, and the word disobey had never crossed his mind.

He picked a cigar from the cigar box, lit it, and went to the hallway.

In the crowded lobby, many men wore heavy overcoats and scarves. They spoke German with accents from Upper Austria and Lower Austria; they came from Munich and even Berlin; they all looked weary, worn out. Could he tell them to go home, which was nowhere?

He took a drag of his cigar and returned to his office. Disobeying his superior’s order would be a betrayal of his duty, but obeying his superior’s mandate and declining the wish of thousands of people on the brink of death would be a betrayal of his heart.





CHAPTER 37


GRACE


There was a call for me, I was told. I went down to the lobby, past the crowd of people waiting for visas, and went to the vice consul’s desk to answer the phone. As I hoped, it was Lola.

“Where are you, Lola?” It was challenging to hear her over the background of human voices from the lobby, low and vibrating; I had to cover one ear to listen to her.

She gave me an address in German, but I couldn’t remember it. “Could you repeat it? Can you spell it in English?”

“Did you find Eva, Grace?” she asked instead.

“I did.” For about two weeks, she had slept on a bed I made in a storage room that held files and newspapers. Out of an abundance of caution, Fengshan and I had decided to keep Eva from Monto—a child, his behavior might inadvertently reveal her presence.

I had also purchased some basic clothes for her: two dresses, stockings, underwear, a sweater, some socks, a beanie hat, a pair of black doll shoes, and a coat. She was only two years younger than Monto, but with a completely different temperament, sensitive, agreeable, easy to please.

“Are you coming? When will you come to get her, Lola?”

“I don’t know.”

“She needs you.”

From the phone came a sound like a sob.

“You’ll come, right, Lola?” This was a consulate, after all, not a home for a child.

“Listen, Grace.” Her voice sounded raspy and old. “I’m in a slum. It’s horrible, and they’re watching me. I fear the worst. I don’t want Eva to live here like this. I begged my uncle for help, but he absolutely didn’t want to have anything to do with us. I’ve called Jewish organizations and charity groups, but they have been banned from operating. Help her, Grace, find her a good family to protect her.”