Kubota turned for the door. "I will leave you two now."

Franz called after him. "Colonel, may I have another word?"

"There is nothing left to discuss, Dr. Adler."

"It has nothing to do with this . . . incident."

Back still turned, Kubota nodded.

Franz glanced looked over to Hannah. "Wait outside, Liebchen. Please. We will just be a minute or two."

She shot him a reluctant look before slowly walking to the door and closing it behind her.

Kubota turned to face Franz. "What is it, Dr. Adler?"

Franz moved a step closer and lowered his voice. "Colonel, I have heard a rumour." He paused. "Concerning you."

Kubota chuckled humourlessly. "If rumours were raindrops, Shanghai would be underwater by now."

"It's more than just a rumour."

Kubota c.o.c.ked his head. "How so, Dr. Adler?"

Franz closed his eyes. Once he said the words, there would be no backtracking. But regardless of the risk, he could not remain silent. He owed this man too much. "I have reason to believe that certain people are plotting against you."

Kubota's face told him little. "Plotting to a.s.sa.s.sinate me?"

Franz nodded.

"Which people?"

"I don't know who they are," Franz said. "I have never met them. I only know that they are involved with the Underground."

"And how do you know this?"

Franz held out his hands. "I . . . I cannot say. I am not involved. Nor is the person who told me. That I promise you."

"Then why are you telling me?"

Franz motioned to the door. "You just spared my daughter from a public flogging. And last year you helped save us from the n.a.z.is. I can never repay that debt."

Kubota frowned. "Nor can you tell me who is behind the plot to kill me."

"I do not know. I swear to you! You can hand me over to Colonel Tanaka. Even if I spent another week in Bridge House, it would not help you find the people responsible."

"Are you aware of any specifics?" Kubota asked. "When or where? Or what they are planning?"

"No, nothing," Franz said helplessly. "I only know that they are very interested in the layout of your office, here in this building. A bomb, maybe?"

Kubota bowed his head slightly. "Thank you, Dr. Adler," he said without a trace of alarm. "I appreciate you sharing this information."

"It's not my place to say, Colonel, but I hope you will take precautions. Perhaps you could post more guards?"

Kubota tilted his head in genuine surprise. "Why would I do that?"

"Surely if your life is in danger-"

"There must be thousands of people in Shanghai who would want me dead. I cannot blame them. In their shoes, I would feel the same." Kubota sighed resignedly. "Besides, good men-men whose lives are ahead of them, not behind-are dying every day. What right do I have to ask for special protection?"

"You are their leader."

Kubota laughed to himself. "I was not sent back to Shanghai to lead."

"Why were you sent back, then, Colonel?"

"To remind me of my dishonour."

"Dishonour? How is that possible? You risked your life to stand up for the refugees."

"Disobedience is dishonourable, regardless of the circ.u.mstance," Kubota said. "Our culture is sometimes difficult for an outsider to understand, Dr. Adler."

"In this case, yes."

"There is an old j.a.panese proverb: Karo tsen. It literally means 'summer heater, winter fan.'"

"I do not understand, Colonel."

Kubota spoke softly. "Sometimes one has to recognize when one has outlasted his usefulness."

Two soldiers escorted Hannah and Franz from the building and released them without a word. Threats would have been superfluous, though. There was no question that Franz would be back as ordered; he had nowhere to hide.

With her head hung low, Hannah held Franz's hand weakly as they walked home. Her shame was so evident that, despite his curiosity, Franz held his tongue.

A block from their home, Hannah slowed down and freed her hand from his. "Papa, I thought . . ."

Franz turned slowly to face her. "What did you think, Hannah?"

"That I could . . . help somehow."

"Help? By smuggling cigarettes?"

"No-well, yes-by raising money. For the family. To contribute somehow."

The good intention behind her reckless actions only fuelled his anger. "Was this contribution worth risking your life-all of our lives-over?"

"Freddy's father, he said-"

Franz pulled his daughter toward him. "What did Herr Herzberg tell you?"

"That there would be no risk," she said miserably. "That they would never search a girl my age."

Franz felt as though every muscle in his body had tightened at once. "Go straight home, Hannah," he choked through clenched teeth.

"Papa, you are not going to-"

"Go home!" he barked.

Hannah eyed him, frightened, then turned and hurried away.

Franz headed down Ward Road, pa.s.sing the hospital without even glancing at it. He continued until he reached the corner of Thorburn Road, where he had once collected Hannah after a visit to Freddy's home.

Franz had no idea which of the drab buildings the Herzberg family lived in. He stopped to ask an elderly refugee who was slumped on a frayed bamboo chair that appeared as fragile as the man it held. The man responded to Franz's German in Yiddish and pointed a k.n.o.bby finger toward a flat on the ground floor of a nearby apartment building. Franz headed straight for it.

Freddy answered the door. At the sight of Franz, he instinctively edged back from the threshold.

"Where is your father?" Franz demanded.

"It is suppertime, Herr Doktor Adler. Perhaps he can call-"

Franz brushed past Freddy into a well-appointed sitting room. Herr Herzberg stood up. The wingback chair he'd been sitting in looked to Franz like it belonged in the Comfort Home's drawing room. The aroma of boiled meat reached Franz's nostrils just as Herzberg crossed the floor.

Herzberg was Franz's height but thicker across his chest and waist. He gave Franz the same easy smile Franz had seen from his son. "Ah, Herr Doktor Adler, we met once before." He extended a hand. "Last year, at the Ward Road heim. You were looking after a friend of mine who had stomach pains. Alfred Glockstein. Perhaps you do not remember me, but-"

"I remember you," Franz said but failed to meet the man's handshake.

Unperturbed, Herzberg dropped his arm to his side. "To this day, Glockstein tells anyone and everyone who will listen that you saved his life that night. Ah, doctors, how would we ever get by without you?"

Franz motioned to Freddy with his eyes. "We need to speak, Herr Herzberg. Outside."

Herzberg swept the suggestion away. "The boy's practically grown. Almost as tall as me. Whatever this concerns, he can hear it, too."

"Outside!" Franz turned for the door without waiting to see if Herzberg was following.

Franz stood at the curb with his arms folded. Herzberg kept him waiting but eventually joined him on the sidewalk, wearing a new-looking hat and coat. The salesman-like smile was still glued to his face.

"My daughter, Hannah," Franz began.

"Such a sweet girl, that one. And so clever. I've had the pleasure of watching her speak Chinese to a local-"

"They caught her!"

Herzberg's face crumpled with concern. "The j.a.panese?" He gasped. "Where? How?"

"At the Muirhead checkpoint. Smuggling cigarettes into the ghetto." Franz scowled. "Your cigarettes."

Herzberg brought a hand to his forehead. "That poor girl. Where is she? What will they do to her?"

"You could have gotten her killed, Herzberg!" Franz snapped. "Do you understand?"

"Could have?" Herzberg's expression softened and understanding lit up his eyes. "Have they released her, then?"

"How could you have done such a thing to Hannah? To any child? Risking her life to smuggle your booty."

Herzberg shrugged good-naturedly. "Honestly, I never expected them to search a girl as innocent looking as your daughter. Had I thought that she was in any danger of being searched . . ."

Franz held his hands tightly at his sides, suspecting he might otherwise grab the man's throat. "You turned my daughter into a scapegoat, Herzberg. The victim of your crime." Franz left out that he himself would be the one to face the consequences.

Herzberg seemed unconcerned. "No one forced Hannah," he said calmly. "She volunteered to go. And we gave her a share of the profits."

"She is thirteen years old!" Franz's jaw fell open. "How do you sleep at night?"

"Not bad," Herzberg said. "Certainly, much better than when I used to live in that overcrowded heim off two cups of watery soup a day. We are doing better, true, but look around you, Dr. Adler. Who among us can afford the luxury of high moral standards?"

"High moral standards? Are you a lunatic? You risked a child's life! You used my daughter to do your dirty work!"

Herzberg shrugged. "Why don't you place the blame where it truly belongs?"

"And where is that?"

"With the n.a.z.is. With Hitler! He forced us into this wretched place." Herzberg watched a Chinese man in a traditional straw hat struggling to balance a bamboo pole across his shoulders. "To live like these peasants. Like animals."

"Hitler? He made you take advantage of children?"

Herzberg exhaled. "He has forced me do whatever is necessary to protect my family."

Franz grabbed Herzberg by the collar of his coat. "You will stay away from Hannah. Far away! Do you understand me?"

Herzberg stared back at him but made no attempt to resist. "Yes, Herr Doktor. You are most easy to understand."

"And you and your son will never involve another child in your schemes. The smuggling stops now, Herzberg. Am I clear?"

"What we do with our business is not your-"

Franz pulled harder, hoisting Herzberg up on his toes. "No more smuggling!" he cried.

Herzberg clamped his hands over Franz's wrists and began to pry them free. "And what can you do about it?"

"If I hear of you selling so much as a single cigarette in the ghetto, I will tell Mr. Ghoya precisely what you have done."

Herzberg froze, and his eyes filled with terror and conciliation. "No, of course. No more smuggling. Never again," he sputtered.

CHAPTER 33.