The sky was frighteningly vast and chilly, under which swarmed uniformed men and motorcycles, sedans, and trucks. My knees grew weak. If I were caught, it would be a disaster—a diplomat’s wife carrying a Jewish child. Would the SS men shoot me?
“Don’t be afraid,” I said to Eva, and myself. “Don’t be afraid.”
My right hand grasping the suitcase, my left hand on my coat over Eva, I sidled along the buildings, past the Brownshirts holding rifles, the SS men with hard looks, and the trucks loaded with people like Lola, locking my gaze on the consulate’s car at the intersection about a block away. I felt Eva’s heart thumping against mine, the warmth of her breath against my skin, and her sweaty hands around my neck. I was wrong. Eva was heavier than I’d thought, and she was slipping. Oh, God. She was slipping.
A man in a beige uniform came out of a door near my right and barked at me in German. Did he detect Eva under my coat? I dropped the suitcase and fled. I didn’t look back, didn’t stop until I reached the car. Once inside, I told Rudolf to drive, took off my scarf with my shaking hands, unbuttoned the top of my coat, and the child’s face, pink, perspiring, rose to greet me.
In the consulate, I had to button up Eva under my coat again to avoid attention from the visa applicants and the consulate staff. Once I reached my bedroom, I helped Eva settle down on the couch, gave her my poetry book to read, and made her a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.
Later, when Fengshan stood in front of Eva in the bedroom, he looked pensive; before he asked, I said, “I know how this looks, my love. But it’s temporary. Lola will come to fetch her.”
“Where is she?” Fengshan asked.
I explained what I had witnessed and looked at Eva; she murmured something in German.
“So Miss Schnitzler was taken to Leopoldstadt,” Fengshan said.
“Where is that?”
“Across the Danube River.”
It was not the Headquarters. I breathed out. “She’ll come back. Right?”
Fengshan sighed and left without answering me.
CHAPTER 36
FENGSHAN
He went downstairs, thinking about Grace’s question, to which he didn’t have an answer. It had only been a few days since the violent night, and now the Nazis had rounded up a large number of innocent people, dislocated them, and separated a family. He hoped he was wrong, but he feared there were more miseries and calamities that awaited the Viennese Jews.
When he went into his office, through the windows he could see people shivering in the cold, their gloved hands holding bags, their hats pressed low to fend off the chill. They were forced to wait outside since the lobby was too crowded—the number of applicants had increased tenfold.
He took his pen and began to work.
In December, a few weeks after Grace took in the Jewish child, the ambassador called. “How many visas did you issue in November, Fengshan?”
His superior rarely started the phone call with a preamble, but he had not bothered to talk about the government’s retreat to Chongqing this time. That was rather concerning. Fengshan rubbed his eyes, glancing at the mound of visa forms that he had just approved. He had been signing ten hours a day, five days a week for three weeks, but he didn’t keep track of the number of visas he issued. The total was easy to calculate, however, given that each had a visa number. But Fengshan said carefully, “Ambassador Chen, my apologies. I must look up the numbers to give you an accurate count. Have you heard the devastating reports of crimes in Vienna? It’s—”
“This is why I asked, Fengshan. I hear there’s a surge of visa seekers in many foreign consulates all across Greater Germany. It came to my attention that many have flocked to our consulate in Vienna. Now, I recall I gave permission to issue a small number of visas, Fengshan, a small number, but I’ve heard a rumor saying that almost four thousand visas were issued by your consulate. Is that true?”
He was caught off guard. He hadn’t been aware the ambassador was watching him closely. “Ambassador Chen—”
“This is unacceptable, Fengshan. We discussed the Jewish rescue plan, which was aborted due to our country’s situation. It is regrettable, but the plan was doomed to fail from the very beginning, if I must say. Now I would like you to halt the visa issuance to Jews.”
Fengshan’s mouth went dry. Ambassador Chen’s view on Jewish immigration had been unfavorable since the Anschluss, yet to hear his reiteration, as the entire Jewish population in Vienna descended into chaos after the deadly evening in November, was confounding. Every fiber of his being resisted. “With all due respect, Ambassador Chen, surely you’re aware of the atrocities the Brownshirts and Gestapo have committed—”
“It is most unfortunate, Fengshan, yet we must have China’s best interest in mind. Germany’s former ambassador to China has privately confided in me his concern that the relationship between Germany and China is facing a test because we accepted a great number of Jews, who are Germany’s enemies. If we continue to offer help to Germany’s enemies, how could we ask for allegiance from the Third Reich and persuade them to sell us weapons?”
The weapons, especially the aircraft, were essential to fighting the Japanese. But as much as Fengshan respected his superior and hoped for the success of the weapons purchase, he couldn’t help questioning why it was in his country’s best interest to pursue a relationship with a government that relentlessly persecuted its own people and drove them to despair. Besides, the Third Reich’s commitment to the weapons sale had yet to be affirmed—the meeting that the ambassador longed for remained elusive, and Hitler had deliberately ignored China, favoring their enemy, Japan, instead. If he could speak candidly to his superior, he would dare say that seeking a diplomatic relation with Germany might no longer bear fruit for the long-term goal of his country’s security and prosperity. The weapons must be obtained from another country.
“Respectfully, Ambassador Chen, we have remained Germany’s stalwart partner for years, but their goodwill remains to be seen. Have they agreed to a meeting for the weapons sale yet?”
“It’s not finalized, but I have verbal consent. The meeting will happen sometime in February next year. Halt the visa issuance until my further notice. This is my order.”
Fengshan searched his mind desperately for some powerful logic, reasoning, or excuse. Suddenly it occurred to him: the telegram he’d received from the Ministry. “Ambassador Chen, may I be allowed to bring this to your attention—the Ministry of Foreign Affairs approved a lenient policy regarding the Jews in October. They sent me a telegram, ordering the consulate to enact a policy of leniency and tolerance toward this very minority.”
There was silence on the other side of the phone. “The Ministry of Foreign Affairs is sheltered in a hut on a cliff with Japanese fighters circling above their heads. Their decision is outdated, and now they have lost communication with people beyond the foothill of the mountain. Pay no heed to the telegram from the Ministry, Fengshan. Follow my order.”
Ambassador Chen, his direct superior, oversaw his job performance and reported his merits and demerits to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs at home. His approval and assessment determined his career. Any objections Fengshan raised would be considered impertinence to his superior. “Yes, Ambassador Chen.”