Charlie looked away, embarra.s.sed. "I am one of millions."

"One in millions." Ernst turned to Jia-Li. "How would you get us out of the city alive?"

"Not us, only me," Charlie said.

"I would come too, of course."

"No, Ernst. You must stay."

Ernst's face fell. "I have to escort you home. I gave my word."

"We need you here in Shanghai," Charlie said definitively.

"I never even told Shan that I was leaving."

Sunny wrapped an arm around Ernst's shoulder and drew him nearer. "He will understand."

"You clearly do not know Shan as I do," Ernst muttered.

Jia-Li coughed into her hand. "My boss's boss, Du Yen Sheng, is an influential man. He supplies the j.a.panese with certain commodities."

"Opium?" Franz asked.

"Among other things, yes," Jia-Li said. "They truck it in from the countryside. His men are among the few Chinese who receive gasoline rations and permits to drive."

Sunny frowned. "In the back of an opium truck? That is how you intend to send Charlie home?"

Jia-Li rolled her shoulders in a can't-be-helped gesture. "There is a truck arriving today. After unloading its cargo, it will head straight back out of the city."

Charlie wiped his brow again, but sweat continued to drip off his face and down his neck. "And they will take me?"

Jia-Li nodded. "I have to warn you, Charlie. It will not be comfortable." She glanced down at the sheet covering his infected leg. "Under all the boxes and crates there is a false compartment that they use for such . . . emergencies."

Charlie held Jia-Li's gaze for a moment. "Trust me. It will not be the worst ride of my life. What time does the truck leave?"

"At one o'clock precisely," Jia-Li said. "You would have to meet them at a warehouse near the wharf."

"How do we get Charlie to the wharf in broad daylight?" Ernst consulted his watch. "In less than three hours?"

Jia-Li held up a hand helplessly.

"Utter lunacy," Ernst said again.

Franz had a sudden revelation. "The j.a.panese allow us to bury our dead."

Ernst rolled his eyes. "Well, that will come as some consolation to Charlie and his men."

"I was thinking that we could send Charlie to the warehouse inside a casket."

"But Franz, you know how paranoid the j.a.panese are," Sunny said. "They often look inside the caskets when they are being transported through the streets."

"Yes, you are correct," Franz muttered.

Sunny squinted. "Unless . . ."

"Unless what, Sunny?"

"The night soil men come through the ghetto all the time."

Jia-Li grimaced in disgust. "Surely, xio he, you are not suggesting . . ."

Reddening, Sunny turned to Charlie with an apologetic frown. "Charlie, we could wrap you in bamboo and other coverings. If we stood you up inside the barrel, with all that . . . waste . . . above you, no one would dare look inside."

Charlie only shrugged. "War is war."

CHAPTER 17.

For the first time in days, clouds crowded the sky. The temperature had dipped to one more typical, and tolerable, for late spring, and yet today Sunny was sweating more heavily under her dress than on the previous scorching afternoon. She wondered how she could possibly be of any help to the Resistance when a simple reconnaissance mission was making her so nervous.

Franz seemed calm as he walked beside her down Ward Road, but Sunny sensed that something other than Charlie's predicament was troubling him.

She had noticed a similar coolness the night before when they had lain in bed together, discussing Simon's intent to leave the Comfort Home. "I convinced him to stay for another few days while I arrange things with Yang," she said as she stroked his arm.

"You think your housekeeper will take him in?" Franz asked.

After the Adlers had been forced to move into the ghetto, Yang had followed them into the same neighbourhood, claiming she had nowhere else to live but in her youngest sister's apartment. Sunny knew, though, that Yang had other siblings who resided in better areas and would have also welcomed their big sister into their homes. "Yang has an extra room in her flat since her sister moved in with her son," she said.

"But you know how terrified Yang is of the j.a.panese," Franz pointed out. "And she refuses to speak anything other than Chinese."

"She will speak English if she's forced to. Besides, she's lonely. She may be crusty, but she is desperate to help. Why do you think she moved into the ghetto?"

"To be close to you."

Sunny nestled in tighter, her chest pressing into her husband's side. "I like being close to you," she said in an inviting tone.

He turned his head and gave her a listless kiss on the cheek. "I'm exhausted, darling. Good night," he said as he rolled away from her.

Sunny had little time now to dwell on her husband's uncharacteristic coolness as they walked past two more j.a.panese soldiers, these ones standing on the corner and laughing uproariously at some private joke.

Her heart fluttered even faster. "Franz, there are so many soldiers," she said quietly in German. "It's a long trip to the wharf in broad daylight. Especially for a night soil man."

"True."

"Who knows how many times he might be stopped? What if the soldiers hear Charlie inside? What if something else goes wrong?"

"We have no choice," Franz muttered, focusing his gaze on the men approaching them from the other end of the block.

"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 fashionably 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 citizenship 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 shirt 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.