Part 38 (2/2)
Chih-Nii's eyelids creased and her tone turned sharp. ”And you have come back here for what, precisely? To gloat?”
Jia-Li folded her arms across her chest and said nothing.
Us.h.i.+ looked over at Sunny, urging her with his eyes to speak.
”She has nowhere else to go, Chih-Nii,” Sunny said.
Chih-Nii's gaze drifted from Sunny to Jia-Li. ”Is this true?”
Jia-Li looked down at her feet. ”My Charlie . . . he's gone,” she murmured.
The bills fluttered to the table as Chih-Nii propelled herself to her feet. She rushed over and wrapped a thick arm around Jia-Li's shoulder. ”Tell auntie, little flower. Tell her everything.”
CHAPTER 52.
The rain pelted down, turning the streets into a mush of puddles and slush. The city's usual strong smells, trapped under ice and snow for so long, returned with a vengeance. Franz's eyes watered as he pa.s.sed a drainpipe that reeked so strongly he guessed something larger than a rat had to be decomposing inside it.
Across the street, Franz saw the sign for the Cafe Aaronsohn. Even if he could have afforded to eat there, he wasn't partial to its food and wouldn't have chosen it as a lunch destination. Besides, with his stomach flip-flopping and the taste of bile on his tongue, food was the last thing on his mind. Still, the popular cafe met his needs from a strategic perspective.
As Franz stepped through the door, he patted his coat pocket, rea.s.sured by the bulky outline of the envelope. The clock above the counter read two minutes to twelve; he was early. He was relieved to see that, despite the foul weather, the restaurant was more than half full. Claiming a table in a far corner, he ordered an espresso and tried to look casual.
The wait only intensified his anxiousness. He never doubted that von Puttkamer would show, but he hoped the man would be as punctual as a typical Prussian.
Just then, the door chimed and the baron entered with his bodyguard. Von Puttkamer sniffed the air and made a face, as though the mere scent of kosher cooking was objectionable. Without even removing his jacket, he approached Franz's table.
Heads turned and the chatter dropped to a hush: many of the patrons recognized von Puttkamer. But the baron appeared oblivious. He eased into the chair across from Franz while his bodyguard slipped into the corner, his back to the wall as he eyed the other customers blankly.
Von Puttkamer laid his damp homburg on the table and folded his leather gloves inside it. ”Not the easiest of journeys in this weather, Dr. Adler. My car got stuck twice. I do hope we are not wasting one another's time.”
Nervous as Franz felt, he was in no hurry to get to his point. ”In my five winters in Shanghai, I cannot remember seeing so much snow or slush.”
”Fascinating,” von Puttkamer said. ”Is this what you summoned me across the city to discuss? The turn in the weather?”
Forcing lightness into his tone, Franz asked, ”Would you like a coffee, Baron?”
”Here?” Von Puttkamer chuckled. ”No. No, thank you.”
Franz lifted his cup. ”As good as back home.”
Von Puttkamer tilted his head in surprise. ”I am curious, Herr Doktor. Do you really consider Germany your home?”
”Austria.”
”Is part of the greater Reich now.” Von Puttkamer shrugged. ”Still . . .”
”Only in the sense of it being the country where I was born and raised,” Franz admitted. ”I would certainly never view it as my home now.”
”That is convenient, considering that we would never view you as a true German.” Von Puttkamer nodded. ”Now that we have settled that . . .”
Franz glanced at the clock above the counter. He needed to draw the conversation out for another ten minutes or so. ”Have you spent much time in Vienna?”
”As little as possible.” Von Puttkamer made a show of checking his pocket watch. ”Frankly, I never enjoyed the city much.”
”Why not, Baron?”
”Too overwrought,” he sighed. ”The architecture. The music. The painting. It was all too precious for my taste. And so, so many of your kind.” He shook his head. ”Berlin. Now there is a wondrous city.”
”I have only been there once, but I would have to agree,” Franz said. ”So many architectural marvels.”
”Ja, in comparison, it makes Shanghai look like the colonial outpost it is and always will be.”
”Will you be returning again soon?” Franz asked.
”That is hardly any of your business, Herr Doktor.” Von Puttkamer pushed his seat back from the table and began to rise. ”Clearly, coming here was pointless.”
Franz's neck tensed with worry, but he managed to keep his expression neutral and his tone conversational. ”We have not yet decided what to do with all your plastic explosives, Baron.”
Von Puttkamer dropped back into his chair. He shot Franz a murderous glare but said nothing.
Franz shrugged. ”We even wondered if perhaps there might be some demolition work required in Germantown.”
”You wouldn't dare,” von Puttkamer snarled.
”Probably not, no.” Franz shook his head. ”Unlike you, we are too civilized to slaughter innocent men, women and children.”
Von Puttkamer leaned into the table. ”You had no difficulty murdering Hans,” he hissed.
”You view him as innocent?” Franz asked in disbelief. ”The man who was about to bomb our temple? You and I must have slightly different understandings of the word.”
”The world is at war, Adler,” von Puttkamer scoffed. ”Honour, bravery, duty-those qualities are more important than questions of guilt or innocence under these circ.u.mstances.”
”Really, Baron? Is there honour in blowing up a synagogue full of wors.h.i.+ppers? Or bravery in collapsing a hospital on top of its patients?”
”If they are filled with enemies of the Reich, then why not?”
Franz wrestled back his emotions. ”Because we will not let you,” he said softly.
”Next time, no one will inform you beforehand.”
Ernst! Franz wondered if his friend was already under suspicion. ”No one informed us,” he insisted.
Von Puttkamer raised an eyebrow.
”We spotted your men arriving after curfew,” Franz bluffed. ”Our people are always watching. Day and night.”
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