Refugees and Chinese citizens alike gathered at the intersection of Muirhead and Wayside Roads to watch the soldiers erecting the wooden post in the middle of the street. Hannah had heard that floggings in the ghetto always drew a substantial crowd. She a.s.sumed that people came out of morbid curiosity, and it disgusted her to see such a gathering for the sole purpose of witnessing her father's whipping. She would have given anything to not have to watch.

Freddy had promised to be there, too, but he was nowhere in sight. Hannah was glad not to see him. She had only told him out of spite. She wanted Freddy to feel guilty, like she did. But it hadn't worked; she saw through his feigned concern. All he cared about was that she had not turned him in and that his own family had been spared the whip.

What a fool I was! She had fallen so hard for Freddy's American-style charm. Only now she could see how he had manipulated her. Even the kiss that had shaken her world had just been an act. She had been his p.a.w.n from the first day. Undoubtedly, Freddy would find a replacement; perhaps even Leah Wa.s.selmann.

Hannah's stomach churned. She worried about vomiting again, especially when her father reappeared.

They had walked together from the hospital to the Bureau of Stateless Refugee Affairs, but Ghoya had whisked Franz into the building as soon as they arrived. She had not seen him since. Hannah had never felt so alone. She wished Sunny was with her. She longed to hold her hand.

On the way over, Hannah had asked her father why he insisted that they keep the flogging from his wife.

"What good would it do to tell her?" Franz asked.

"She would want to be here for you."

"For what, Hannah?" he snapped. "So she could suffer, too?"

"I . . . I . . ." she stuttered. "This is all my fault."

"What's done is done, Hannah-chen." He exhaled. "I wish to G.o.d you didn't have to see this, but they have given us no choice."

"It should be me, Papa."

Franz placed an arm around her shoulder and brought his daughter to a halt. His eyes locked onto hers. "Do you not understand how much worse that would have been for me?"

She shook her head. "I am responsible."

"The Herzbergs had no right to involve you."

"But-"

"Just as I have no right to involve Sunny," he said. "You know she would insist on being here, too."

"She would want to be here," Hannah repeated.

"Sunny has so many worries right now. Yang's arrest has been so hard on her. She does not need to see this. Neither do you." He squeezed her shoulder. "Hannah, promise me that you will look away or cover your eyes."

"I . . . I have to watch, Papa. That colonel said so."

"Promise me, Hannah."

"I will try."

She was snapped from the memory by the sight of Ghoya leading her father out of the building. Two soldiers were with Franz, but they didn't need to detain him. He walked calmly, with his head held high.

Hannah burned with guilt to see her father, who always dressed so fastidiously, clad only in an undershirt and trousers. As he pa.s.sed her, he nodded once, as though to remind her of her promise, and then gave her a tight rea.s.suring smile.

As soon as the contingent reached the post in the middle of the intersection, Franz stepped forward and leaned against it, holding up his hands so one of the soldiers could bind them with rope to the rusty metal ring that hung above him. Once Franz's wrists were secure, the soldier grabbed her father's undershirt and ripped it apart, exposing his bare back. The other soldier stood back from the post, a thick black whip in his hands. Its tail was so long that it gathered at his feet like a coiled snake.

Hannah smelled aftershave and turned to see Ghoya sidling up to her. "Do you see, girlie?" he demanded. "Do you? This is what happens to smugglers."

"I have learned my lesson, Mr. Ghoya," she blurted. "I swear to G.o.d! Please do not punish my father."

Ghoya grinned widely. Then, without warning, he slapped her across her bruised cheek. The pain stung worse than the first blows the day before, but she bit her lip and stifled her tears, desperate to stay strong for her father.

"Examples must be set," Ghoya hissed into her ear. "You should be on that pole, too. If not for Taisa Kubota . . ."

Realizing that it was futile to plead anymore, she looked down at her feet.

Ghoya reached out and pinched her jaw, then forcibly rotated her face in the direction of the post. "You must watch this, girlie! Every lash, every single lash. They are for you, too."

The soldier nearest her father hollered in j.a.panese. Hannah only recognized the last word-"ichi"-which she knew meant "one." The soldier holding the whip c.o.c.ked back his arm.

Franz squared his shoulders and raised his head higher.

Ghoya maintained his grip on Hannah's face, but Hannah averted her eyes upward. Even so, she saw the whip uncoiling overhead. It cracked through the air. The next thing she heard was a revolting snap.

A gasp escaped Franz's lips.

Hannah couldn't help but look over. She was horrified to see a raw wound coursing the length of her father's exposed back. His knees buckled slightly and he stooped forward against the post, bleeding.

"You see, girlie?" Ghoya asked. "Do you?"

"I do," Hannah breathed.

"Yes, yes. Everyone must see." Ghoya turned to the watching crowd and bellowed, "This is what happens to smugglers! Tell the others: next time it will be a firing squad. Yes, yes! Tell them that, too!"

The first soldier called out, "Ni"-"Two."

Franz straightened his legs and arched his spine.

Hannah glanced skyward again. She tasted bile as the lash sizzled overhead.

CHAPTER 34.

October 11, 1943 Sunny hurried along Thibet Road on her way to Frenchtown. Despite the warmth of the autumn day, she kept her hands tucked in her coat pockets and her chin buried in her collar as she pa.s.sed one j.a.panese soldier after another. She imagined each of them snapping a whip, and her rage simmered.

Half an hour after she'd applied salve and bandages to Franz's back, Sunny could still feel the rough edges of his wounds against her fingertips. She was amazed that infection had not set in over the past week. She had to fight back tears every time she changed the dressing.

For his part, Franz hid his suffering behind smiles and occasional jokes. He had even returned to work to a.s.sist Sunny on an urgent amputation and a perforated colon repair. Still, she knew he was in agony.

Sunny's anger wasn't limited to the j.a.panese. She was furious with Hannah, too, and had yet to forgive Franz for keeping the flogging a secret. Sunny had only learned of it when a Jewish woman burst into the hospital hysterical with the news. Upon sprinting to the site, Sunny found Franz half-naked and curled up at the foot of the whipping post. There was so much blood caked over his back that it appeared painted on. The sight of Hannah was almost as distressing. The girl rocked silently on her knees beside her father, tears streaming down her cheeks. Franz was unable to rise to his feet, and Sunny had to ask a pair of young men to carry him home over their shoulders.

Forcing that day from her mind, Sunny focused on the more hopeful news that Joey had delivered the day before. He was shouting as he burst onto the ward. "I found her, Soon Yi! I found her!"

Sunny raced over to him. "Yang? You found Yang?"

"Yes!"

"Where?" She threw her arms around Joey and danced him around in a circle. "Is she here with you? Outside?"

He shook his head, beaming. "No. She's in Lunghua. Can you believe it?"

Her arms fell away. "The prison camp?"

Joey knit his brow, puzzled at her tone. "With the Americans and the British, too. Lunghua is not so bad, Sunny. There are even children inside."

It was true. Sunny had heard that the conditions at Lunghua were more bearable than at many of the other sites that the j.a.panese still referred to as "civic a.s.sembly centres." "How do you know Yang is there?"

"Guo-Zhi." A silent labourer, Guo-Zhi had worked at the refugee hospital longer than Sunny had. "His wife went out to Lunghua Camp to take food to her former employer-you know, that widowed Englishman. She saw Yang being unloaded off a truck out front."

"Did Yang look well?"

"Her face was bruised and she had a limp, Guo-Zhi told me." Then he hurried to add, "But at least Yang was on her feet. This is so much better than what the news could have been."

Joey was right. Sunny found solace in the knowledge that Yang was at a relatively safe camp, rather than in some torture chamber like Bridge House or buried in one of the ma.s.s graves, as she had come to fear. Still, she couldn't help but wish for more. She wanted Yang home with her.

The thought faded as Sunny saw the gentle curve of the Cathay Building ahead of her. Despite Shanghai's general dilapidation, the grand building-a fusion of Gothic and art deco design styles-gleamed as brightly as ever, sunlight reflecting today off its gilded motifs.

Sunny slipped in through the ornamental copper doors and hurried across the lobby to the elevator. As the car rose higher, so did her trepidation. She rarely visited Jia-Li at her home; her best friend often hosted clients there. Sunny had never before arrived unannounced, but today she had no choice. The whole neighbourhood had lost telephone service again. Besides, word had swirled through the ghetto that the j.a.panese were closely monitoring the phone lines. Few were willing to risk discussing anything on the line, especially any matters that could be construed as remotely sensitive.

Sunny stepped off at the ninth floor and approached Jia-Li's flat at the end of the hallway. She rapped three times on the door, then paused and tapped four times. Their signal.

A few seconds pa.s.sed, long enough for Sunny to wonder whether Jia-Li was out or indisposed. Then the door opened a crack. "Are you alone?" Jia-Li whispered.

"Yes."

The door opened wider and Sunny stepped inside.

Wearing only a black silk robe, Jia-Li greeted Sunny with a hug. Beneath her jasmine perfume, Sunny detected a trace of sweat and something else. a.s.suming that she had interrupted a client's visit, Sunny wriggled free of her friend's embrace and back-pedalled toward the door. "I am sorry to surprise you, bao bei. I will come back later."

Jia-Li reached for Sunny's forearm, pulling her back. "What is this foolishness, xio he?"

"Honestly, it is no inconvenience," Sunny said. "I'll return later. When you are more available."

Jia-Li glanced down at her short robe and then looked up, suddenly understanding. She cleared her throat. "Oh, Charlie is home with me. We, um, slept in late this morning."

The two friends stared at each other for a moment before breaking into simultaneous laughter, which soon evolved into a fit of giggles. "Perhaps Charlie would have been safer staying with that refugee family after all," Sunny choked out between laughs.

"He might have gotten more sleep," Jia-Li joked.

A clopping noise drew Sunny's attention. She turned to see Charlie, shirt untucked, making his way toward her. The sound of his crutches against the wooden floor reminded her of hoof beats. "Nice to see you, Soon Yi." He smiled without a trace of self-consciousness.

Jia-Li wiped a happy tear from her eye and then locked elbows with Sunny. "Come, sit with us. I'll make tea."

As they settled themselves, Sunny shared the news about Yang. It led to another hug and more giggles of relief. The women sat down side by side on the couch, while Charlie eased into the room's sole wingback chair. Sunny noticed how empty the apartment was. On her last visit, it had been filled with decorative objects: paintings, sculptures, rugs and ornaments, including a ma.s.sive gilded candelabrum and an ornately painted Ming vase. Sunny wondered if Jia-Li had hocked her possessions to help support the Adlers with "loans" that they would never be able to repay.

"As you can see, xio he, I have uncluttered somewhat."

Sunny squeezed her hand. "All your beautiful decorations, bao bei . . ."

"Were out of style anyway. I think it looks better this way. Better feng shui." Jia-Li looked over to Charlie with a loving grin. "Besides, none of my vases stood a chance with my one-legged rhinoceros stampeding about."

He laughed. "I am still light as a feather. Even on only one foot."

Despite his gauntness, Charlie looked more robust than he had on Sunny's last visit. "You are feeling stronger, Charlie?" she asked.

He flexed his elbow. "I could lift you both with one arm."

"You have done enough lifting for one day." Jia-Li laughed and this time Charlie reddened slightly.

Jia-Li's joy was contagious. Sunny was also relieved that, unlike on her previous visits, Charlie had yet to mention his impatience to return to his troops. As though reading her mind, he leaned forward in his chair and said, "I still intend to get back to my men, but priorities have shifted."

Sunny looked from Charlie to Jia-Li. "So I see."

"No, no," he said. "I mean the Flying Tigers."

Jia-Li eyed Charlie warily, but he didn't seem to notice.

"The American planes?" Sunny asked.

"Exactly!" He almost jumped out of his chair with excitement. "They crossed overhead on their way to the river again this morning. I counted them as they flew home. They did not lose a single fighter."

"So American planes will keep him in the city," Jia-Li said to herself as she lit a cigarette. "At least something will."

"You know how important this is, precious," Charlie said. "It means the war is coming to Shanghai."

Suddenly uneasy again, Sunny asked, "Hasn't the war been here since the first bomb fell on Hongkew?"

"That battle was lost years ago. Our incompetent generalissimo wasted half his army trying to defend the city without adequate air support." Charlie motioned to the ceiling. "Now, with the help of the Americans, we can finally turn the tide against the Rbn guzi."

Jia-Li turned to him dubiously, a cigarette dangling from her lips. "You don't mean us, Chun? Surely not." It was the first time Sunny had heard her use his Chinese name.

"I do." He nodded enthusiastically. "From inside the city, too. No longer out in the countryside."

"But how can you help the American planes, Charlie?" Sunny asked.

"The Rbn guzi can only move troops and supplies in and out of the city via the river or the railway," he said.

Jia-Li sat up straighter. "Then why can't the Americans bomb those?"