"So far, they have sent only fighters. No bombers. I suspect the Allies have not yet gathered the air power for such a mission." Charlie shrugged. "Regardless, we can reach the railway terminal just as easily as any bomber. And the j.a.panese transmitter is in Hongkew. Right outside the ghetto."

"Reach them how?" Jia-Li nodded in the direction of his crutches. "Besides, what would you use to blow up the terminal or the transmitter?"

Charlie's grin only widened. "Fireworks, if need be."

"Charlie, you are in no condition for that," Sunny said. "You are still recovering from-"

Jia-Li leapt to her feet. "This is nothing but fantasy!" she cried, waving her cigarette wildly. "You see yourself liberating Shanghai. A hero. The same way I imagine myself as a wife, and even a mother someday. A woman of virtue. Not what I really am: a glorified wild pheasant."

Charlie stared at her, his smile tempered but not gone.

Jia-Li dropped to her knees in front of him, grabbing his hand in hers. When she spoke again, her voice trembled. "The truth is we are both damaged beyond repair. You and I . . . we are only dreaming, Chun."

As Sunny walked through the International Settlement, she reflected on Jia-Li's outburst. Her best friend was smitten to a degree Sunny had never seen before. Pleased as she was for Jia-Li, Sunny worried over the risks of this new romance. Not only could Charlie be gone or lost in an instant but Jia-Li would remain in grave danger every moment that she spent with him.

As Sunny crossed the Bund and entered the Public Garden, her mind turned to the real purpose of her trip out of the ghetto.

Wen-Cheng was sitting on the same park bench as always, holding a newspaper in front of his face. A quick look around her confirmed that no one else was in the gardens. Sunny dropped down onto the far end of the bench.

"How is Franz?" Wen-Cheng asked without lowering the paper.

"Better."

"I am pleased to hear it." He paused. "And Charlie?"

"What about him?"

"Have you found him alternative accommodations?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"With Jia-Li."

Wen-Cheng nodded. "And you, Soon Yi? How are you?"

"I am no longer . . . comfortable."

Wen-Cheng turned a page but said nothing.

"Our contact-the old man," Sunny continued. "Do you know much about him?"

"He was a friend of my father's. Before the invasion, he was involved with the munic.i.p.al council."

"That must be how he knew Kubota. The colonel used to work in the mayor's office." Sunny nodded to herself. "I knew they must have had some kind of previous relationship. You can tell by the way he speaks about him."

Wen-Cheng eyed her momentarily before turning back to the newspaper. His voice took on a sudden urgency. "I warned you: once you commit, there is no way out."

Sunny felt a heavy weight descend on her shoulders, but she could only nod.

"You feel a debt of loyalty toward the colonel. I understand that." Wen-Cheng exhaled. "But it is not up to you or me to decide such things. We are like . . . soldiers. We must do as we are told. Otherwise it will become very dangerous for us."

"How can I simply-" Sunny detected movement out of the corner of her eye. Her pulse raced as she watched the old man in the grey Zhongshan suit limping down the pathway toward them. He moved at a leisurely pace, stopping every few yards to stare at the weed-riddled lawn.

Sunny knew that the old man and his network were not the enemy. The members of the Resistance were risking so much-their lives and those of their loved ones, too-to liberate her city. She admired their bravery and selflessness, but at that moment, all she wanted was to see the old man turn and walk away forever. By the time he finally reached the bench, Sunny's mouth had gone dry.

He stood with his back turned to them, holding his arthritic fingers interlocked behind his back. "Soon Yi, we need you to set up an appointment with Colonel Kubota."

"An appointment?" Sunny shook her head. "I cannot do that."

The old man stood absolutely still. "Cannot or will not?"

"I cannot get in to see the colonel," Sunny said, remembering what she had practised saying earlier that day with Franz. "I already tried, last week."

"Oh?" The old man turned slightly in her direction. "And why were you trying to see the colonel?"

"To stop my husband from being flogged," Sunny lied. "I went to his office and begged the guards to allow me in. I waited outside for hours, and when the colonel finally came out, he just breezed past me and got into his car. He did not even acknowledge me."

The man shrugged slightly. "Perhaps if you are calmer when you return."

"It won't make a difference." Sunny willed indifference into her tone. "My stepdaughter was caught smuggling cigarettes into the ghetto. My husband is persona non grata with the j.a.panese. I doubt the colonel would see me under any circ.u.mstances."

"Sunny is right," Wen-Cheng said from behind his newspaper. "Perhaps it would be better to revise the plan."

The old man just turned his head and gazed out at the river. The breeze blew a few blades of brown gra.s.s across Sunny's feet. Her heart thumped as she waited for his next words.

"I had a.s.sumed you would be more resourceful, Soon Yi," the old man said with a small sigh. "Considering how the j.a.panese mistreated your ill.u.s.trious father, I thought you would at least be dedicated to our cause."

"I am dedicated," she insisted. "Those savages killed my father. They whipped my husband. I would do anything to be rid of the Rbn guzi."

"Then you will find a way to meet with the colonel," he said sharply. "This week."

Sunny went cold. "And if I cannot?"

The old man looked skyward. "The battle lines have long been drawn, Soon Yi. All that is left is for you to decide exactly where you stand."

CHAPTER 35.

Franz leaned back in his chair and immediately regretted it. His back stung as though someone were digging their nails into the open wounds, but he bit his lip and fought off the pain. Hannah was watching.

"Can I get you anything, Papa?" she asked as she hopped to her feet and headed toward the kitchen.

"I am not an invalid, Hannah."

How quickly the roles are reversed, he thought. A year and a half earlier, he had hovered day and night over his daughter's bed as she fought a cholera infection that had nearly proven fatal. At the time, he had been cognizant of her every movement; even the smallest suggestion of discomfort launched him into action. Now, it was Hannah treating him as the patient.

His daughter had changed; there was no denying it. Even through her moodiness earlier in the spring, she was still his little girl and, though she didn't seem to realize it at the time, needed him as much if not more than ever. But this was different. Franz was proud of her sudden maturity, but there was more to it-a burgeoning independence. And he didn't yet feel ready to let go of the child in her.

"There are still a few leaves left, Papa." Hannah lifted a small teapot. "I can steep more tea for you."

"One more cup and I will sweat green." Smiling, he leaned forward to take the pressure off his searing back. "How is school, Hannah?"

"Same as ever"

"And with Freddy . . ."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I do not speak to him."

"Perhaps he is not as much to blame as you think." When she didn't reply, Franz added, "His father should never have involved either of you with those cigarettes."

"Freddy knew what he was doing."

Franz would never trust the boy again either, but he was willing to defend him if it helped protect Hannah's feelings. "People do desperate things in desperate times, Hannah-chen. Especially if they believe they are doing it for their family."

"I have seen Freddy for what he really is." Her expression was stoic and her eyes clear.

The door opened and Sunny stepped inside.

One glimpse told Franz how upset she was. He turned to Hannah. "Your aunt will be home soon with rice. We will need hot water for dinner."

Without a word, Hannah grabbed the rusty pot off the counter and headed out the door.

As soon as she had left, Sunny plunked down beside him and took his hand in hers. "I met the old man from the Underground."

Although her tone was emotionless, Franz sensed her anxiety. He sat up straighter and leaned back into the chair, hardly noticing the pain. "Was it an ultimatum?"

"Perhaps. I am not sure."

"And what does that mean for you? For us?"

She held up her free hand, then let it drop to her side.

He nodded to himself. "I will speak to Wen-Cheng."

"No, Franz. He is as helpless as we are."

"He got you into this."

"I did that myself."

"I blame him!" Franz suddenly found an outlet for all his indignation-toward the Herzbergs, the Underground, the j.a.panese and even Sunny. "Why did Wen-Cheng ever come to the refugee hospital?"

"To help."

Franz squeezed her hand so hard that she had to tug it free. "For no other reason than you, Sunny. He came for you."

"You are not thinking clearly."

"Nonsense. I have known it for months. Perhaps you are the one whose perspective is clouded."

Sunny c.o.c.ked her head. "Franz, are you accusing me of something?" she asked softly.

He could not let go of his anger. "Wen-Cheng could have volunteered anywhere. To help with his own people. He is from Shanghai, after all. Instead, he chose a German Jewish refugee hospital. Why?"

"He knew that we worked there."

"We?" Franz grunted.

"All right, me, then."

"Exactly."

Sunny stood up and straightened her skirt. "Whatever Wen-Cheng's motives for coming to the hospital, they did not affect my actions. For the longest time, he would not even admit to being involved, let alone introduce me to anyone involved in the Underground. I insisted. I wanted to partic.i.p.ate." She hesitated. "I needed to."

He frowned. "You needed to?"

"Yes, darling," she said evenly. "If I were not born here, I would not understand it myself. I felt that I needed to do something. Anything. If only to honour the memory of my father."

"You are correct. I do not understand."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Franz's anger dissipated, but worry only filled the void. "I warned Colonel Kubota," he finally said. "What else can we do?"

His wife shook her head, her light brown eyes glistening.

"What if they come for you, Sunny?" he asked.

"Oh, Franz. Those people from the Underground-they are decent people."

"Maybe so, but if they believe you defied them or, worse, think for one moment that you might collaborate . . ."

She leaned forward and placed her fingers lightly on the back of his neck, careful to avoid his wounds. "We will be all right."

"How can you be sure?"

"Simon." She laughed. "You know how he likes to compares us to cats. For always landing on our feet."

"It's not even true of cats. Let alone us."

"We will get through this." She kissed him on the lips and then pulled away. "I must go freshen up."