Эльвира Барякина - White Ghosts

At that moment an artillery shell whooshed overhead, and the entire company fell silent.

4

Felix sat on a log, smoking a cigarette, watching the scarlet sunrise over the Yangtze, while Chinese artillerymen tried to figure out how to take their guns across the river.

Things were really bad in the Dogmeat General’s army. Russian and Chinese officers were constantly at one another’s throats, many of them had taken to the bottle, and confusion in the rear was common place. Supply officers would only buy food from profiteers who paid them bribes, and half of the army was suffering from disease and illness. Medical care was almost non-existent, and Dogmeat’s soldiers were so hungry that they were no longer as interested in attacking the enemy’s position as they were in their logistical supply lines.

Father Seraphim approached, wearing a padded coat decorated with a Red Cross armband. His beard was completely wild and his eyes were red and bleary.

“Are they gonna give us our money or not?” he asked Felix. “They owe us five months pay and that’s no laughing matter.”

“Dogmeat probably thinks he’s better off keeping us as cannon fodder, and then fodder for his army when the supplies finally run out. He’s got no plans to pay us and let us go,” Felix muttered.

Sadly, it was true: they had nowhere to go and no other choice but to fight to survive one day at a time. They knew that if they were taken prisoner, they would be horribly tortured before being executed.

Felix looked up and noticed a small steamer sailing round the bend of the river.

“Do you see that red flag on her stern?” a Chinese officer shouted as he ran past. “It’s a Soviet ship! We must stop it. It’s bound to be delivering food to Wuhan.”

The Chinese discharged a warning shot across its bows, and the steamer anchored in the middle of the river.

As a Russian speaker, Felix volunteered to head the inspection on board, and along with other soldiers, he jumped in the rowing boat and rowed to the Soviet steamer.

Having ascended its rope ladder, he ordered the captain to hand him all his consignment notes. According to the ship’s papers, the Pamyat Lenina was sailing to Wuhan to pick up a cargo of tea and was only carrying spare parts for a power plant in its hold.

“Tea?” Felix shouted angrily. “They’re reduced to eating dogs and cats in Wuhan and you’re planning to ship a cargo of tea!” He turned to his soldiers. “Search the steamer. Put the crew under arrest and bring all the passengers into the lounge.”

5

The soldiers’ impatient knocks shook the Don’s cabin door to its timbers.

“Open up!” someone with a Russian accent shouted.

Fernando hadn’t expected Dogmeat’s soldiers to stop the Pamyat Lenina. There was a trade agreement between the Peking government and Moscow which allowed Soviet ships to freely navigate all Chinese rivers, despite the war.

The Don rushed around his cabin. If Dogmeat’s men were to find out about the Avro, it would be curtains for him.

There was a heavy blow, and the door flew off its hinges. A tall, hook-nosed young man with a revolver in his hand burst into the cabin, followed by a number of Chinese soldiers behind him.

Fernando hurriedly handed him his passport. “I’m a citizen of Mexico. I’m a neutral here.”

The man looked through the Don’s documents and grinned.

“Jose Fernando Burbano? Nice to see you.”

The Don turned yellow. “How do you know me?”

“I used to be a policeman in the International Settlement. Your name regularly featured in our reports.”

Fernando put his hand to his heart. “It’s all lies and slander! I am an honest businessman. I have a radio station in Shanghai—”

But the young man wasn’t having any of it.

“What are you doing on a Soviet boat?” he barked.

“I’m on a secret mission, under Mr. Sterling’s orders. I have been told to negotiate the evacuation of foreign refugees from Wuhan—with Mikhail Borodin. By the way, did you know that his wife is here?”

“What are you talking about?” the man said, frowning. “We have reviewed the lists of passengers—”

“She is traveling with forged documents.”

The man grabbed Fernando by the shoulder and dragged him to the lounge, where the other passengers were sitting, terrified.

“Stay here,” the man ordered and left.

The Don leaned against the wall, casting glances at the white-faced Bolsheviks. Nina was there too. She was sitting on the couch, shaking like a leaf.

Now Fernando could hear the sound of iron hitting iron as the soldiers started searching the hold.

They’re bound to find the airplane, Fernando thought, his heart skipping a bit.

A Chinese officer entered the lounge. “Which of you is Madame Borodin?” he asked the women.

Nina looked at Fanya, but she said nothing.

“No point denying it,” Don Fernando whispered. “This way at least you become a bargaining chip. If the Chinese think you’re small fry, they’ll just throw you overboard to feed the fish.”

Fanya stepped forward. “I am Mrs. Borodin. Why?”

The officer looked at Nina. “And who is she?”

“She’s my cousin. I warn you, sir: touch one hair of our heads, and you’ll be in serious trouble.”

“Do you confirm what this lady says?” the officer asked Nina.

“Yes,” she replied hesitantly.

The hook-nosed young man came back into the lounge and, without a word, dragged Fernando out into the corridor.

“Who owns the airplane in the hold?” he hissed, grabbing the Don by his lapels.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Liar! The crewmen told me that you were in charge of it.”

The man shoved a docket under the Don’s nose.

“It says that the Avro belongs to Ms. Ada Marshall. I know that girl: she doesn’t have enough money to buy a pair of decent stockings, let alone an airplane.”

In a panic, Fernando looked back at the glassed door. Behind it, he could see Nina, hunched on the settee.

“It’s all her fault,” he whispered. “If you served in the police, you would know that Ms. Kupina has been engaged in arms smuggling before. I guess she used your friend as a front and put her name on the papers. Ms. Kupina is in cahoots with the crew and told them to blame it all on me if an emergency arose.”

“Are you talking about Klim Rogov’s wife?”

That was a bad idea, Fernando thought. It seems that all these Russians know one another.

“Klim kicked the whore out long ago,” Fernando said in a muffled voice. “She cheated on him with Daniel Bernard. He was arrested a week ago for espionage, but she managed to escape. By the way, did you know that Ms. Kupina is Mrs. Borodin’s relative? She just admitted it as much. Didn’t she?”

The man swore in Russian. “How do you know all this?”

“Oh, I know a lot. I’m a very useful person.” The Don forced himself to smile. “You can send a cable to the Municipal Council and ask Mr. Sterling whether he gave me the order to go to Wuhan or not.”

“You can depend on that,” the man muttered, releasing the Don’s lapel. “If you’re lying, I’ll personally stove your head in with a rifle butt, but if Sterling confirms who you are, you can go wherever you want.”

He paused, and his face softened a little.

“Thanks for the information about Borodin and her cousin. Without you, we would never have guessed who they were.”

“My pleasure.” Don Fernando looked into his eyes. “Can I give you a bit of advice? If you don’t want that young friend of yours involved in the case, you’d better destroy all the Avro papers and present your report saying that ‘The airplane was confiscated from an enemy spy, Nina Kupina.’”

The man nodded and escorted the Don back to the lounge.

Fernando felt weak from relief. He wished he could kneel down and thank the Holy Virgin for his miraculous salvation there and then.

Miss Nina has only got herself to blame, he thought, looking up at the ceiling. She shouldn’t have annoyed me. I feel sorry for her, of course, but what am I to do? I’ll say a prayer of penance for her and donate some money to the church for a new sacristy. But holy Mother of God, please, don’t desert me! I need you now more than ever!”

1 SKETCHES ^{Klim Rogov’s diary}

“Where’s Mommy?” Kitty keeps asking me. “When will she come back home?” I tell her I don’t know and that makes her angry: “You must know! You must!”

How can I explain to a three-year-old what has happened between Nina and me?

We met each other when the whole world around us was crumbling. Both of us were looking for a pure soul to love and to be loved by, a soul that would deliver us from every evil. Alas, ideal people, like distilled water, don’t exist in the real world, and eventually our delight gave way to bewilderment. Far from behaving like guardian angels, we only brought trouble into each other’s lives.

I have finally been acknowledged for my professional achievements, but what now? I go to work, read the latest bad news to my audience, and then try to cheer them up with a new song, “I Hope You’re Happy Now.” I no longer perform monologues to my fictional girlfriend, Anna. Despite the constant demands from my fans to bring her back, I don’t have the heart.

Every day, my secretary drops a huge stack of letters onto my desk from local young ladies declaring their undying love for me. Who can honestly say that they have never dreamed of being the object of such sincere adulation and devotion? But now that I have achieved it all, I couldn’t care less.