French Concession (2 page)

This story is set in 1931, or Year 20 of the Republic, the twentieth year after the revolution that overthrew the Ch'ing Dynasty and created the Republic of China. It takes place in the foreign concessions established by Britain, France, and the United States in the mid-nineteenth century, extraterritorial jurisdictions in the heart of Shanghai. The British and American settlements were soon combined to form what was known as the International Settlement, whereas the French Concession remained independent. Both concessions were returned to the Chinese government during or shortly after the Second World War.

Spelling of Chinese names throughout mostly accords with the Wade-Giles system in use at the time, except where certain conventional names or spellings (such as the Whampoa) are more widely used.

WEISS HSUEH/HSUEH WEI-SHIH
, a French-Chinese photojournalist who becomes an unofficial detective for the Political Section of the French Concession Police

THERESE IRXMAYER/LADY HOLLY
, a White Russian firearms dealer and Hsueh's lover

LENG HSIAO-MAN
, a member of a revolutionary cell and Hsueh's lover

TS'AO CHEN-WU
, Leng's second husband

WANG YANG
, Leng's first husband

KO YA-MIN
, a member of the cell

LIEUTENANT SARLY
, head of the Political Section of the French Concession Police

INSPECTOR MARON
, head of a detective squad under the Political Section of the French Concession Police

KU FU-KUANG
, leader of the revolutionary cell

PARK KYE-SEONG
, a Korean member of the cell and Ku's right-hand man

LIN P'EI-WEN
, head of one of the cell's units

CH'I
, an ex-prostitute and Ku's lover

ZUNG TS-MIH
, Therese's business partner from Hong Kong

YINDEE ZUNG/CH'EN YING-TI
, Zung Ts-Mih's sister

AH KWAI
, Therese's maidservant from Hong Kong

TSENG NAN-P'U
, a functionary in Nanking's Central Bureau

CHENG YÜN-TUAN
, a secretary at Nanking's Investigative Unit for Party Affairs

SECRETARY CH'EN
, a senior member in the Communist Party and former leader in the student movement

THE POET FROM MARSEILLE
, a member of Inspector Maron's detective squad

COMMISSIONER MARTIN
, an English commander at the International Settlement's Municipal Police

BARON FRANZ PIDOL
, Luxembourg United Steel Company's chief representative in Shanghai

MARGOT PIDOL
, Baron Pidol's wife and Therese's close friend

BRENEN BLAIR
, Margot's lover

CONSUL BAUDEZ
, the French consul in Shanghai

COLONEL BICHAT
, head of the Shanghai Volunteer Corps

SERGEANT CH'ENG YU-T'AO/POCK-FACED CH'ENG
, head of North Gate Police Station

M. MALLET
, Chief of the French Concession Police

SAWADA-SAN
, First Secretary at the Japanese consulate

LI PAO-I
, a newspaper reporter at the
Arsène Lupin

TAO LILI/PEACH GIRL
, a prostitute at Moon Palace Dancing Hall

BARKER
, an American

THE BOSS
, head of the Green Gang

MORRIS JR
., prominent member of the Green Gang

CH'IN CH'I-CH'ÜAN
, a member of Lin's unit

FU
, a member of the cell

LI
, a member of the cell

CHOU LI-MIN
, a member of the cell

PEARL YEH
, a famous actress

YAN FENG
, a cameraman at the Hua Sisters Motion Picture Studio

PIERRE WEISS
, Hsueh's father

MR. AND MRS. ROMANTZ
, proprietors of the restaurant Bendigo

HUGO IRXMAYER
, Therese's deceased husband

The walls of the cabin were trembling. A steam whistle piped two short blasts. Hsueh opened his eyes. He still had the covers pulled over his head, and the ebb and flow of waves sounded like thunder in a distant world. The world beneath the covers was warm and rocked gently. Therese's naked back shivered in the darkness. The ship's engine must be restarting.

A thick fog had blotted out the stars. Going out onto the deck right now would be like stepping into a freezing dark dream. The deck would be treacherously slippery, and he would have no sense of direction—he would barely even know where his own hands and feet were. He would hear the waves but be unable to see them in the endless darkness. He might see a buoy flickering dimly several hundred yards away, as if through uncountable layers of black gauze.

The
Paul Lecat
set off at full steam. In only a few hours, it would be high tide on the Yangtze, the only time when a large ship could sail safely through the Astraea Channel. There was a sandbank on the northern side of the channel, and the whole channel was sandlogged. When the tide was at its lowest, the shallowest stretches of river would be less than twenty meters deep. The
Paul Lecat
weighed 7,050 tons, and displaced about twenty-eight meters of water. It thus had two hours to reach the next anchorage site at Wu-sung-k'ou, the mouth of the Wu-sung River.

Sea lanes at the mouth of the Yangtze River

Halfway through the journey up the river, it had a close brush with disaster. A German cargo ship sailing out to sea passed it very narrowly—“pass port to port” was the entry the pilot would make in his logbook that day. The river was foggy. The pilot did not hear the other ship sound the horn at its bridge, and by the time he saw the red light on its port side, they were on course to collide. The
Paul Lecat
hastily turned fifteen degrees starboard to let the other ship pass. In so doing, it was nearly forced out of the channel and onto the muddy sandbanks.

With the door just a crack open, a sliver of red light filtered in. Hsueh opened the cabin door and was immediately terrified by the sight of the other ship advancing toward him like a huge building.

He crept back under the sheets. Therese was sleeping like a mother hog, her snores long and gentle.

His fingernails brushed across the cloud-shaped purple birthmark between her shoulder blades.

Although they were traveling together, he knew little about her apart from her name. After all, she had engaged his services as a lover, not as a spy.

She likes to chain-smoke, especially in bed. She knows a lot about antique jewelry. Her ink green garnet stone has a pattern like a horse's mane. She knows some mysterious people in Hong Kong and Saigon.
Granted, some of these were his own inventions—strangers always stimulated Hsueh's imagination. He was a photographer, and he made his living peddling photographs to all the newspapers and magazines in Shanghai. If he was lucky, a single photograph of a burglary-murder scene might fetch fifty yuan.

The first time they had met was at the scene of a shooting, standing over the corpse. The second time was at Lily Bar in Hongkew, next to a massage place with lanterns outside that read
P
ARIS
G
IRLS
. She wasn't all that different from the Paris girls inside, he thought.

In fact, only recently had he learned her name, in the Hotel Continental in Hanoi, when he heard that man call her Therese. Before then, all he knew was that people called her Lady Holly. He gradually worked out that she was White Russian and not German, as she was
said to be. She fascinated him. They spent their nights in places like the Astor House Hotel in Shanghai or the Hotel Continental in Hanoi. Spacious balconies, wide corridors, electric ceiling fans whirring discreetly. The air would be thick with the lascivious smell of overripe tropical fruit. The wind would blow open the pale green curtains and dry their glistening backs. He was almost in love with her.

It was now low tide, and the
Paul Lecat
would have to be moored in a temporary anchorage for twelve hours, until another pilot boarded the ship at the next high tide and navigated it into the Whampoa.

He yanked off the sheets, leaped out of bed, and got dressed. Only when he stepped outside did he realize that they were nowhere near their destination. The horizon grew bright, and the wind pierced his shirt. He decided to go to the restaurant for a cup of hot tea.

The railing, starboard side. Another first-class cabin. Leng Hsiao-man was about to steal out of bed. She could not risk disturbing Ts'ao Chen-wu, sound asleep beside her. According to the plan, she had to go to the telegraph room and send a telegram.

Ts'ao, her husband, had been sent to Hong Kong on a secret mission to arrange the visit of an influential man in the ruling Kuomintang party. He was now returning to Shanghai to meet that man in the French Concession, and accompany him back to Canton via Hong Kong and Shen-chen.

Ts'ao's snores rose and fell, like his temper. He was brusque and yet gentle, hard to pin down. She was in a pensive mood, though not because of him. She had scoured her memory of their life together, struggling to find things she loathed about him, good reasons for hating him, yet nothing she could think of justified what she was about to do. But surely she had to have a higher cause to live for.

Anchored Wu-sung-k'ou await high tide STOP onshore before ten STOP pier as agreed Ts'ao

The telegraph operator sent these words to a Shanghai wireless shore station with the call letters XSH, to a Mr. Lin P'ei-wen, who
identified himself as the man responsible for welcoming the delegation. Half an hour later, at the Telegraph Office on 21B Szechuen Road, the night shift operator opened the glass door and went up to the counter. He handed the telegram to Mr. Lin, who had been waiting there for more than two hours.

The door to the main dining room was shut. Hsueh returned to the room, where Therese was still sleeping. In Hanoi, he had rushed out of the hotel toward the pier in a rage. He had made up his mind to ignore her, to stop sleeping in her room or her bed. But even when he booked himself a berth in third class, all she did was mock him. At the pier, he realized he had stepped on a piece of chewed-up betel nut. Standing beneath a palm tree, he looked at the Vietnamese hawkers dressed in black on the pier, and the stench of sweat made him feel queasy. He found himself wandering back to the hotel.

She hadn't bothered to pursue him at all—she had known he would come back of his own accord. He was young, and she was seven or eight years older. She had the upper hand. Who is that man? Who is he? he had asked. Mr. Zung, she said. In Hong Kong, she had gone out alone and left him at the hotel all day. At first he assumed she had gone to meet more of those White Russians forced to sell their last few pieces of jewelry. Then on the journey from Hong Kong to Haiphong, he'd seen this Mr. Zung on the boat. Therese pretended she didn't know him, but he had traveled with them all the way to Hanoi. In the hotel lobby, as he was coming downstairs to buy a packet of cigarettes, Hsueh overheard that man call her by her name—Therese—and saw her slip into his room. She had not come back to the room until midnight. He had questioned her angrily, pushed her against the wall, torn her skirt and silk drawers off, and reached his hand in to touch her. She had not even bathed. She kept smiling at him until he asked, Who is he? Why has he been following us since Hong Kong?

She brushed him off, laughing at him. Who do you think you are? she asked. He thought he was in love with her. He loved the way she smoked. Instead of using one of those agate or jade cigarette holders,
she would let the tobacco stain the bright curve of her lips, while her short black tousled hair cast flickering shadows on her pale face.

Now he was sitting on the side of the bed while she slept. Her handbag lay on the bedside table, and he opened it. He had never looked through her things before. A ray of early morning light sliced through the cabin window, illuminating a dark metallic outline. He put his hand inside the bag. It was a pistol—

The bag was snatched from his hands, and someone kicked him so hard he thudded to the floor. It was Therese, sitting on the pillow. The gray sky outside had turned a shade of vermillion, and she sat looking at him, backlit by the morning sun, her bare shoulders almost transparent. His eyes watered. He got up, snatched up his camera, and went outside.

The fog had lifted, and the river was sparkling. The white deck was stained bloodred with the dawn. He went down to the lower deck and toward the front of the ship. Coils of rope, sheets of canvas, and all the odd-numbered lifeboats were lined up toward the front of the boat by number, with the odd numbers on the starboard side while the even numbers were on the port side. A crowd had gathered by the railing to watch the sunrise.

There were a handful of tables and chairs, but the canvas seats were wet, and no one was sitting down. The bow of the ship was even windier, and it was empty. He leaned against the railing. Eight ships were anchored here in a fan-shaped formation, each with her bow pointing southwest toward Wu-sung-k'ou. An American passenger liner, the
President Jefferson
, was moored nearby. Waves beat on the ship, water droplets spattering its orange body just above the waterline. They looked like beads of sweat on a massive, hairless beast. Floating garbage collected near the surface of the water, while the gulls circled, looking for rotten food. He cursed aimlessly at the sky, and his self-pity turned into anger.

A shadow floated by. It was a silk handkerchief, dancing just beyond the railing like a white jellyfish swelling in the wind. He turned and saw a woman leaning against the railing. She wore a black wool coat, beneath which her dress, a green-and-white-checkered
cheongsam, peeped out. The sun shone onto the port side of the ship from beyond the Yangtze, glinting off her hair. Her face was wet with what looked like tears. He had seen her somewhere before. She was pale, and the light shone into her eyes so that her tears glowed. He must have seen her in a movie, but which one? He couldn't stop himself from staring at her.

The bell rang for breakfast. Leng Hsiao-man wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. She glanced at the irate stranger, and as she was about to leave, she noticed a camera hanging from his long shoulder strap. The lens cover sprang open, and a finger pressed down on the shutter button. She hurried away.

The pilot boarded at 8:30
A.M.
from a ladder mounted on the port side of the ship. He was responsible for navigating the ship into the narrow mouth of the Whampoa through Ch'iang-k'ou Channel. The ship would sail a little farther along the Whampoa to its destination, Kung-ho-hsiang Pier, just east of Lokatse on the northern shore of the Whampoa. He was not the only man getting ready to board the ship. At the floating pier just outside the port commissioner's office, four men in short sleeves were boarding a speedboat bound for the
Paul Lecat
—most likely gangsters, as they were carrying guns.

When the men sent by the Green Gang arrived at his cabin, Ts'ao had breakfasted and was fully dressed. Two of the bodyguards lugged his trunks out onto the deck. He reclined on the sofa in the cabin while Leng stood by the railing outside. He had no idea why Leng didn't just stay home. She insisted on traveling with him, but when she came she always had that mournful look. She shivered, went up to the trunk, opened it, and retrieved a red scarf, which she tied around her head.

The
garde municipale
, the police force of the French Concession, had been notified of Ts'ao's secret mission, but he would also need the Green Gang's protection. So instead of disembarking at Kung-ho-hsiang Pier in the International Settlement, he took a speedboat to Kin Lee Yuen Wharf, south of Lokatse. That was in the French Concession, within Green Gang territory.

Two boats were let down from the ship at the same time. One carried a Frenchman, a messenger who regularly traveled from Hanoi by train and sea via Haiphong to Shanghai, with documents that had to be personally signed for by the head of the Political Section of the French Concession Police. The other boat carried an important member of the Nanking government, his wife, his own bodyguards, and four bodyguards sent by the Green Gang. Before long, his wife started complaining of seasickness and insisted on sitting at the cabin window to get some air.