But would he risk defying the order of his superior, Ambassador Chen?
Fengshan expelled the smoke from his chest, the gray jet shooting in the air, hitting an invisible wall, and then dissolving.
When he turned away from the window, he saw Grace was sitting on a high-backed chair, her gloved hand pressed to her chin. She looked absolutely still, like a model for a painting.
“Grace, is everything all right?”
“I told you he was an honorable man.”
She had just returned from Lola’s apartment, she said. There had been a round of interrogations at the Headquarters last night. Josef, who had refused to make a confession that would incriminate his employer, had taken a handful of veronal, sleeping pills that he had hidden in the hem of his pants, and died.
CHAPTER 19
LOLA
I had come to the Headquarters hoping to speak to my brother and give him a word of hope and comfort, carrying with me a change of clothes, laundered and ironed by Sara, but I had returned with his possessions: a pair of glasses, a pair of trousers and a shirt, and a set of keys to his pharmacy. His clothes were torn near the shoulders, stained with blood, and those smudged lenses were the same glasses that he wore when he played chess with me, the same glasses that he took off his nose, pretending to clean, when he lost.
They wouldn’t tell me where he was.
I sobbed on the tram, burying my face in my arms; I held Josef’s possessions close as though they were him. His glasses slipped out of my hands, and I hastened to pick them up. But a shoe stepped on them; a string of vile slurs exploded around me. I didn’t want to listen. Josef had heard too much of them; they had driven him to die.
On the street, everything was strange. The shops, the gardens, the buildings appeared warped, glazed in a sea of waxy light. In the park, women sat for picnics; men read newspapers; children savored wiener sausages; musicians played accordions. An ordinary summer day, yet the chilliest winter of my life.
When I arrived at my apartment, I stopped short—there was Onkel Goethe’s face and his yelling again. I trembled, and hard as I tried, I couldn’t find a word to counter him.
I gave Mutter Josef’s belongings. “Mutter . . .” I couldn’t continue.
What could I say? What could I do? I had failed to find a visa for my brother, and now he was gone.
CHAPTER 20
FENGSHAN
All that evening, Fengshan couldn’t focus on the newspapers. A suicide, and Mr. Rosenburg was fighting for his life in the hospital, facing the dreadful prospect of a labor camp if he couldn’t receive a visa by the end of the day tomorrow.
Visas were lives.
Would he stand by, do nothing, and watch a man perish?
He knew the answer, and that left him with only one choice.
The next morning, Fengshan sat by the phone, waiting for Ambassador Chen’s phone call. His report had been prepared meticulously, but for the first time in his career, his mind was somewhere else. Ambassador Chen was not a superior who liked to be questioned, but he had to try.
“Fengshan?” The ambassador’s voice came through the phone. “I have good news, as per your suggestion to contact the secretary of the treasury in the United States. I relayed your idea to our foreign secretary, and Mr. Sun Ke, the president of the Legislative Yuan, has expressed great interest. He believed it was worth trying and ordered the ambassador to the United States to request a meeting with the secretary. I received a surprise telegram yesterday. It seems the American secretary of the treasury is rather sympathetic to our country’s plight. He recommended President Roosevelt extend the credit to us to improve our weaponry and purchase supplies. The amount the secretary offered is approximately twenty-five million American dollars.”
“This is wonderful news!”
Twenty-five million dollars would provide a massive boost of morale. With the credit, the ambassador could move forward with the arms deal with Germany. The army could replenish and train the pilots and they could defeat the Japanese in China.
“Good work, Fengshan.”
This was rare recognition from his superior. He was pleased. “I assume the meeting regarding the aircraft purchase will be arranged soon.”
“I’m not optimistic, but we should hope our effort will not be in vain.”
Fengshan cleared his throat. “Ambassador Chen, respectfully, I must report to you that after the devastating result of the ?vian Conference, I have heard some tragic news of the Viennese who wished to leave the country but were unable to receive visas. I’m aware I have inquired about the subject before, but I wonder if I could urge you to reconsider. Will it be of interest to you to modify the no-immigration-visa policy and extend visas to the Viennese?”
“Fengshan, as I’ve stated, our goal is to maintain a friendly relationship with the Third Reich. Do not forget that. Even Chamberlain and Daladier have made their intention clear that they prefer nonaggressive, peaceful relations with Hitler.”
Fengshan persisted. “Indeed, peace with Germany is imperative. The Americans are dedicated to keeping peace in Vienna as well, but it seems to me that they also value the Viennese highly. They have taken measures to place a few prominent scholars under their protection.” He mentioned Dr. Freud and Mr. Wiley’s attempt to help him with visas to England.
There was silence.
“A few visas won’t pose a direct threat to our relationship with Germany,” Fengshan explained, Grace’s voice in his mind.
There was a sigh. “Fengshan, you have put me in the good graces of Mr. Sun Ke because of the credit from the Americans. I will speak to Mr. Xu Shumo, the vice minister of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, regarding the immigration policy for the Jews. But here’s a word of advice: immigration policy is not our priority, and it will never be our country’s priority.”
“I understand perfectly well. Again, I’m only suggesting a small number of entry visas, and I shall vouch that they would be issued under the strict requirement of your guidelines.”
“In this case, you have my permission, and these visas must be issued in a small, acceptable number.”
Fengshan’s heart sang. He put down the phone and strode to the lobby. Near a wall of file cabinets, Vice Consul Zhou was yawning, a stack of paperwork in front of him. Fengshan asked him to come into his office. From the elevator appeared Grace, who had looked miserable since yesterday. “Come with me, Grace. I have good news about the visa issue.”
Her face lit up; she sprang toward his office and sat as he asked Vice Consul Zhou to explain the current visa-application situation.
The consulate of the Republic of China had only received a few applications for visas over the past year, the vice consul said, scratching his head with his long nail. China, after all, was not a popular destination for foreigners.
The category of immigration visa didn’t exist, since China was not an immigrant country. Tourist visas and student visas were also rare, given China’s slow economic development and the ongoing war. Visas related to marriage, which Grace had received, were similarly rare. Once in a while, the consulate approved visas for foreign missionaries, government officials, and businessmen who conducted business in China, but that activity had also ceased due to the war.
As consul general, Fengshan’s responsibility was generally related to the final step of the visa process: filling out the official certificate in both German and Chinese, writing down the visa numbers, signing his signature, and stamping it with the consulate seal. The lengthy pre-visa process of inspecting forms, collecting fees, and conducting interviews fell on the shoulders of Vice Consul Zhou, his subordinate.