“You don’t need anyone but me,” Tamara said.

Nina thanked her for her kindness and at the same time thought that she was more reliant on Tamara than ever. There was no way Nina was ever going to find a husband now and she could forget about making money of her own with a baby to look after. The only role she could play from now on was to be Tamara’s dependent.

2

“I want to buy something for Nina’s child,” Tamara said to her husband. “She and I will go to Yates Road.”

Tony was horrified. “Is it safe for you to go that far? What if you slip a disk? You know how fragile your back is.”

But Tamara was determined to take the risk, so he had a special chair made for her that two men could carry. He put an egg on its seat, chased the porters around the house several times, and only when the egg still remained on the seat intact was he satisfied. No automobile could have provided Tamara with such a smooth way to get around, especially on the Chinese roads with their cracks and potholes.

It was snowing when the servants took Tamara out for the first time that whole year. She squinted, laughed, and inhaled the cold air deeply.

“I can’t believe how long I’ve allowed myself to be cooped up in my own house,” she said.

3

The English called Yates Road “Petticoat Lane;” you could find every imaginable type of undergarment there for all occasions and for all ages—from the cradle to the coffin.

The porters carried Tamara at a sprightly trot past the decorated shop windows. Behind her Nina rode in the Aulman’s car followed by a number of servants pushing wheelbarrows that were to be used to deliver Nina’s purchases to her house.

“Onwards to Mr. Bookers!” Tamara commanded imperiously from her chair. Nina’s chauffeur nodded and slowly followed behind, ignoring the blaring horns of the impatient cars that overtook them. Nina, who was sitting in the back seat, could barely suppress her mirth as their procession seemed so comical to her.

The porters brought Tamara’s chair into Bookers & Co., purveyors of the finest linen and maternity wear. While the servants and shop assistants made Mrs. Aulman comfortable, Nina wandered around the displays looking at satin blankets, canopies for cots, beautifully embroidered bedding sets, and silver rattles.

“I can’t choose anything,” she said, looking totally lost. “There are so many lovely things; it’s making my head dizzy.”

“You sit and have a rest,” Tamara replied. “I’ll sort everything out.”

Shop assistants piled towers of baby’s clothes in front of them to be inspected. Suddenly Nina gasped. The hem of her dress was wet, and an embarrassing puddle had formed on the floor under her seat.

“Your waters have broken!” Tamara exclaimed. “Quick! Get in the car!”

They didn’t make it home. Two trucks had collided on the corner of Weihaiwei Road, and the traffic had ground to a standstill. Nina’s little girl was born on the back seat of the car. The chauffeur delivered the baby under Tamara’s close directions from her chair, while the porters chased away curious onlookers.

4

The Three Pleasures pub was on a small street called Blood Alley. There wasn’t a day that went by there without a fight, but the imperturbable Vietnamese police would only intervene if knives or firearms were involved.

Every evening Felix would leave his motorbike at the hitching post, instruct a Chinese boy to guard it, and together with Klim, would enter the pub—to wait for the Czechoslovak Consul to appear.

People sat around battered tables—sailors of all ranks and nationalities, Chinese generals without armies, and the usual lowlifes that inhabit any port. Sweaty girls with messy hair would try to sit on their laps, and every now and then a Malayan midget would appear from a dark recess and offer a pipe of opium.

“If you don’t have enough money, I can sell you some opium water for five coppers,” he would say enticingly to the pub’s patrons.

Klim knew exactly how this opium water was produced. The Malayan would clean the unburned remnants from the opium pipes and boil them in water on the premises.

“This will give you a better high than the purest cocaine,” the midget promised, and he made a grotesque face to portray the ecstasy his customers derived from his product.

Felix drank his beer and told Klim about his friends from the cadets. Recently, a number of them had started talking about returning home. They felt they were just wasting their time in China, while in Russia they could get a free education and perhaps become an engineer or a dentist. At least, that’s what they had read in the leaflets that somebody had placed stealthily in the back porch of the Russian church.

“The police know who are printing these leaflets,” Felix grumbled. “The Bolsheviks send their agents to Shanghai to lure the youngsters back home. The white emigrants are a real thorn in their side, and the Kremlin fears that one day we might gather our forces together and win Russia back.”

“Are there many young people who believe the Bolsheviks?” Klim asked.

“Oh yeah, plenty. One of my friends returned to Vladivostok and promised to write to me regularly to let me know how things were going there. We agreed between the two of us that he would send me a photograph with his letter. If the picture showed him standing, that would mean that everything was fine, but if he was sitting down, then that would be a sign that all was not so well in the land of the Soviets. You know what kind of picture my friend sent me? He was lying prostrate on the floor.”

5

After a couple of weeks waiting, Jiří Labuda finally turned up at the Three Pleasures, dressed in a silk top hat and a dark green coat with a beaver fur collar.

Klim watched the little Czech’s reflection in the oblique mirror behind the bar. Jiří had a brief chat with a tall one-eyed Chinese man and asked the waiter for a beer. After nursing his drink for a few minutes, he quickly ducked into the corridor heading to the rooms at the back.

“Let’s see what he’s up to, shall we?” Felix whispered to Klim.

They swiftly passed a smoky kitchen and a number of closed doors. Female voices could be heard laughing behind them. There was a man lying on the floor next to the back door, either drunk or dead. Felix stepped over the man’s legs and looked out.

“Follow me,” he told Klim and ran back into the saloon. “Labuda has a car full of liquor.”

They rushed out onto the main street, which was filled with drunken sailors, and nearly fell under the wheels of a Ford leaving the back yard. Klim stared at it in shock. It was Nina’s car!

Felix untied his motorbike from the hitching post and jumped into the saddle. “Let’s go!”

They drove down the street, deftly dodging trucks and horses. Klim’s heart was sinking. Was Nina really involved in Labuda’s scam? But how could she, when she was about to bring a child into the world? What was she thinking of?

In a few minutes, the Ford crossed the International Settlement border.

“We’re going to catch that Labuda red-handed,” Felix shouted excitedly. “The Czechs have no special rights here, so he’s not going to get off that easily.”

When the Ford turned into one of the empty streets near the racecourse, Klim realized that Jiří was on his way to Nina’s.

The road was dark and deserted, and only the dimly lit windows of the richly appointed villas could be seen beyond the deep snow-covered gardens.

Klim leaned in towards Felix’s ear. “We need to arrest Labuda right now. Otherwise, he’ll take us to his buddies, and we might not be able to deal with all of them.”

Felix nodded. He speeded up, passing the Ford, and blocked its path. Brakes screeched, and the car nearly skidded off the curb.

“Are you blind or drunk?” shouted the driver, leaning out of the car window. He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the police badge in Felix’s hand.

Klim jumped off the motorbike and threw open the rear door of the car.

“By what right?” Jiří shrieked in fear.

Felix shoved his revolver right into Jiří’s face. “What do you have here?” he asked, pointing at the cases piled on the seat.

“Nothing in particular—”

Klim took out a penknife, tore open the cover—and froze. The case was packed with rifle barrels.

“They’re not mine!” Jiří whimpered. “They made me do it! It’s all Nina’s fault—”

Klim hit him hard on the shoulder. “Shut up!”

Felix’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Do you have a license for these weapons? No? Then we’ll have to take you down to the police station to answer a few questions.”

He got into the back seat next to Jiří and put a gun to the terrified driver’s head.

“Go to Nanking Road. And don’t even try any dirty tricks, or I’ll blow your brains out. Klim, could you take my motorbike to the station?”

The door slammed, the car pulled away and disappeared into the cold mist.

Klim stood in the street, looking after them. He was sure that Labuda would pin all the blame on Nina and she would be under arrest in no time.

6

Klim wasn’t used to driving a motorbike, and it took him a while to get to the Nanking Road police station.

He saw Felix in the waiting room.

“You won’t believe what a catch we’ve made,” he said excitedly. “Johnny and I asked Labuda for his documents and the address of his superiors in Prague, and you know what? It turns out he’s an impostor. He appointed himself as consul and fooled the Chinese officials to avoid paying customs duties on liquor.”