In the morning, Fengshan made sure to put an Open sign outside the consulate’s gate. The lobby in the consulate was overcrowded, and the applicants lined up on the streets outside, heaped with mounds of snow.
“Herr Consul General, there is a package for you,” Frau Maxa said outside his office.
“Leave it. I’ll open it later.” He didn’t lift his head, writing Shanghai in Chinese characters on a visa form. The applicant’s last name, unlike the previous one, was short, as if saving his time: Baum.
“He said it was from Mr. Rosenburg.”
Fengshan looked up. Mr. Rosenburg had left for Shanghai last year, and he had seen him off at the train station. His friend had a habit of gift-giving, but he had not mentioned a package sent to him from overseas. He looked down at the form again. He had to finish this visa first. It was not his character to leave something unfinished. “I’ll open it later.”
Frau Maxa came in a moment later. “The carrier of the box is waiting to speak to you, Herr Consul General.”
“Bring him in.”
He waited for a while, but Frau Maxa didn’t appear. He went out to the lobby. “Where’s the carrier?”
“I can’t find him, Herr Consul General. Rudolf said the carrier just left.”
He frowned. “Where’s the package?”
It was a small box. Inside was a cup, an ordinary cup that anyone could purchase in a store. He looked inside the box again; there was nothing else except the wrapping, a newspaper from last November with the headline of the dreadful night when many shops were destroyed and many Jews were arrested and beaten—the Kristallnacht.
He held the newspaper. It was evident that the cup and the name of Mr. Rosenburg were only used as an excuse. Whoever had sent the package wanted to speak to him. But if the sender had come for help, then why so secretive?
A few days later, another package appeared on his desk. Inside was the same type of cup he had seen before, wrapped in newspapers in German.
Fengshan took his coat and hat from the coatrack and went to the lobby. A man, tall, wearing a black knit scarf and a black overcoat, was watching him at the entrance. But the moment Fengshan saw him, he slipped out of the consulate.
Whoever the stranger was, he desired a private meeting. Fengshan locked the office behind him, passed the crowd in the hallway, and came to the entrance. It was snowing outside; the man was standing near the statue of Beethoven opposite the consulate. Fengshan pulled his black coat tight and crossed the street covered with knee-deep snow.
“Herr Consul General?”
The young man looked to be in his midtwenties, with thick eyebrows and intelligent black eyes peering above the scarf wound around his neck. By instinct, Fengshan could tell he was a Viennese Jew.
“Yes, I’m the consul general of the consulate of the Republic of China.”
Fengshan extended his hand and saw with sadness that the man hesitated. The Nazis had made it criminal for the Germans to shake a Jew’s hand. But he was not German, and he still believed in courtesy.
The young man’s grip was firm. “My name is William Galili. My apologies for the unconventional meeting in this horrid weather. I heard of your consulate through our mutual friend Mr. Rosenburg. There’s an urgent matter regarding visas, and I’m afraid I need your help.”
It was freezing; Fengshan had forgotten to wear his gloves. “Mr. Galili, the consulate of the Republic of China has a liberal policy regarding visas for the Jews in Vienna. If this is what you need help with, I advise you to fill out an application form in the lobby.”
“Indeed, Herr Consul General, I’ve heard about the generous policy of your consulate, but I’m afraid I request more than one visa.”
“How many are you requesting?”
“Seven hundred seventy-five.”
He gave the man a good look. “You’re applying for visas on behalf of seven hundred seventy-five people.”
“Herr Consul General, it is most unusual, but I beg you to hear me out. All these unfortunate people have asked for my help; they’re from Berlin, Vienna, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, and other countries in Eastern Europe. They are sleeping in a train, unheated, in Czechoslovakia, in this freezing weather, waiting to be transported to a ship that’ll sail to Bulgaria and then China. However, they were refused passage through Rumania, and ordered to turn back to Germany, which must not happen. They have little provisions left, no fresh water, waiting for visas to go to China that would grant them a passage from the port police.”
He was an eloquent speaker, appealing to his empathy, but the more Fengshan heard, the more suspicious this whole business appeared. “Are you saying that they’re en route to China by train and then by boat and yet none of them have a Chinese visa?”
“That’s correct, Herr Consul General.”
He had an instinct that this man was not a friend of Mr. Rosenburg. “You have seven hundred seventy-five people’s lives in your hands, Mr. Galili; if you’re as serious as I think you are, you’ll tell me the truth.”
The young man glanced at the line of visa applicants near the entrance of the consulate. “Herr Consul General, perhaps I have started the conversation on the wrong foot. Seven hundred seventy-five visas certainly require some work, and I’d be glad to compensate you for your trouble. I’d like to give you two thousand marks for your trouble, or five hundred American dollars if you prefer. I hear you have a son. It’ll come in handy for his education.”
Fengshan turned around.
“One thousand American dollars, Herr Consul General!”
He stopped. “Mr. Galili, I believe your money will be more useful somewhere else. The consulate of the Republic of China does not accept bribes. You have demeaned me and my consulate by offering your bribe. I wish you a good day.”
“Herr Consul General, wait! I apologize if I’ve offended you. Please give me one more chance to explain. As you know, many consulates in Vienna are unreachable for various reasons. I’ve spoken to representatives from Liberia, Argentina, and Greece in Berlin and Prague. They said they must report to their officials at home regarding the visas, which would take months. I’m afraid I don’t have time. These people are waiting on the train and will be turned away in days if they do not have visas.”
The flakes of snow plastered the man’s face and melted. He was perspiring; his eyes glowed with urgency and fear. Fengshan relented. “Herr Galili, as I’ve stated earlier, the consulate of the Republic of China has a liberal policy regarding the Jews in Greater Germany. All applicants will receive their visas, provided they have proper documents. But bribery is not the path to visas.”
The young man pulled his coat tighter. “My deepest apologies, Herr Consul General. This is a just cause, I assure you, and I’ll be happy to tell you the details. The seven hundred seventy-five people, as you suspected, do not intend to go to China. They have their own destination in mind. They have been given a pass-through in Rumania by a local official, yet the official was unwilling to take a risk to accept them for fear they would linger in his country. He asks to see the evidence of their departure. So I have reached an agreement with him. Suppose each of them owns a visa to China, a faraway country, proving that they are en route to China. In that case, the official will let the train pass through his country, and they’ll board the ship in Varna in Bulgaria and reach their destination.”