Part 11 (2/2)
”There must be another way to get Charlie there,” she said. ”If only I could-”
Franz clamped a hand on her elbow. He spun away from the street to stare at the boarded-up window of the empty storefront.
Sunny mimicked his pose, wondering what the sudden threat could be. ”What is it, Franz?” she whispered.
He lowered his head and turned to retrace their steps, pulling her along with him. ”Those men behind us-don't look back!” he said in a hush. ”The short one is Ghoya.”
”The one who calls himself the King of-”
”Yes. And the other man. I recognize him from the newspaper.”
”Who is he?”
”Baron von Puttkamer,” Franz said.
”Is he a refugee?”
”A n.a.z.i. People call him the 'Goebbels of Asia.'”
A shrill voice called out to them. ”Dr. Adler, Dr. Adler!”
They froze in place. Franz squeezed Sunny's elbow before releasing her. She understood. He would do the talking.
They slowly turned to face the approaching men. Ghoya wore a fedora and a flamboyant pinstriped suit. The man beside him, in contrast, was tall, athletic and fas.h.i.+onably dressed in a navy blazer and tie. He strolled down the street like someone who expected to have an entourage trailing him. Two younger men kept a deferential distance behind him. One resembled a youthful Ernst, while the other was Asian but looked neither Chinese nor j.a.panese. Korean, Sunny decided.
Ghoya reached them first. ”Ah, Dr. Adler. Allow me to introduce you to one of your countrymen.” He held his small hand out to the man beside him. ”Baron Jesco von Puttkamer.”
No handshakes were offered, but von Puttkamer nodded crisply in what Sunny understood to be the Prussian manner. ”Dr. Adler.” He did not introduce his two subordinates and ignored Sunny altogether.
”I was just taking the baron and his men on a tour of the Designated Area,” Ghoya announced.
Franz's expression remained neutral, but Sunny sensed his soaring apprehension. ”Of course, Mr. Ghoya,” he said, keeping his tone steady. ”However, the baron and I are no longer countrymen. The German government rescinded my citizens.h.i.+p years ago.”
”Technically, that is correct, Dr. Adler,” von Puttkamer said in a low, silky voice. ”Still, I understand that most of the Jewish residents in the Designated Area are German-born. Citizens or not, my government maintains an active interest in all such peoples.”
His tone was conversational, polite even, but the words ”active interest” sent a chill through Sunny. Franz fidgeted uncomfortably but said nothing.
”Yes, yes,” Ghoya said. ”The baron is most interested in seeing how the Jews get by here. Most interested. I was just taking him to the school now.”
Hannah! Sunny immediately thought. Leave those children be! she wanted to scream. What does the school matter to you thugs?
Franz stiffened. ”The school? Really? There is not much to see inside that ramshackle building.”
”No doubt.” Von Puttkamer nodded. ”Still, I am most interested to see it for myself. Do Jews not prize education above all else? How else can all your little ones grow up to be lawyers and bankers?”
”And doctors,” Ghoya added with a giggle.
”So many Jewish doctors,” von Puttkamer grunted. ”Which reminds me. Mr. Ghoya was telling me that you have built your very own hospital here in Shanghai.”
Sunny's eyes darted over to Franz. His jaw was clenched even tighter now. ”It's not much more than an abandoned building with a few beds inside,” he said.
”It is much more than that!” Ghoya exclaimed. ”You told me so yourself.”
”We have hardly any medicines or supplies left in our cupboards, Mr. Ghoya,” Franz said. ”The hospital is basically a convalescence home. A place where we can sometimes keep people a little more comfortable before they improve or they die.”
”I think you are being most modest,” von Puttkamer said. ”I would very much like to tour this hospital of yours.”
Franz shrugged his shoulders and held out his palms. ”You would be wasting your time, Baron.”
The younger German man lunged forward, looking for a moment as if he might tackle Franz. ”The baron does not take advice from a rotten Jew!”
Von Puttkamer smiled in a paternal manner. ”Please excuse Gerhard's exuberance, but my young colleague does have a point, Dr. Adler. I would like to see the hospital for myself.”
”Yes, yes,” Ghoya said. ”We will go there right after the school and the temple.”
Sunny resisted the urge to run as she and Franz returned to the hospital. ”How long do you think we have, Franz?”
”Half an hour? An hour at the most. How long can it possibly take them to tour the synagogue and school?”
”So there is no time for the night soil barrel,” she said.
”Absolutely not. We must get Charlie out of the hospital immediately.”
”I'll find a straw hat.” Sunny thought aloud. ”We have to just bundle Charlie up in a rickshaw and send him to the warehouse. I will go with him.”
Franz stopped and caught her arm again. ”No, Sunny! If you were to be caught . . . I should go.”
”You are not allowed out of the ghetto without a pa.s.s. It's too risky for you, Franz.”
”Then Ernst will have to take him.”
”That would draw even more attention. No one will take notice of two Chinese riding together.”
”Joey, then.”
”It's not fair to ask him.” She marshalled her courage. ”I will do it. There is no other choice.”
Before Franz could argue further, they reached the door to the hospital. Panicky voices could be heard inside. Ernst's was the loudest.
Franz took off down the corridor, and Sunny followed. They reached the ward to see Charlie staggering across the room in a s.h.i.+rt but no pants. Ernst supported him on one side, while Max Feinstein supported him on the other. The dressing around his leg had unfurled, and blackish blood trailed behind him. Panting heavily, Charlie was reaching his hands out in front of him as though trying to catch imaginary b.u.t.terflies that were fluttering past his head.
”You have to go back to bed, Charlie,” Ernst commanded, but Charlie continued to grasp at air.
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