“A clerk at the embassy. You were the only person I knew here.”
“It was a pass of some sort?”
“A letter to the German embassy about Iris’s political background. You don’t remember?”
“I remember now. Willie, that other Scotch is for you.”
“You drank yours already?”
“I’ll have another. Iris, I want you to know that whatever I can do to make Tokyo more endurable, just ask. Someplace to stay, a bank, a maid? Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
Willie sat back in wonder. “Now I know what DeGeorge meant. I don’t even recognize you, Harry.”
“Speaking of DeGeorge, have you seen him around?” Harry signaled for more Scotch. Beechum’s party launched into “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary.” It sounded long to Harry.
The waiter’s tray carried not only the Scotch but also a manila envelope with Willie’s name on it. Willie drew out an envelope with a string closure, and from that a letter.
“It’s all in Japanese. What does it say?” Willie seemed to trust the waiter more.
The waiter held the letter by the corners. “If I may, this letter is not to you.”
“Oh.”
“No, it is to your embassy. It reads, ‘This office is pleased to state that Mrs. Iris Staub, a Chinese national, has been found to be a person of good character. She is free to travel with her husband, Wilhelm Staub, a German national.’ It’s signed by a general of the military police.”
“Is it official?”
“It bears the letterhead of the Ministry of War and has the general’s stamp.”
Willie took the letter back and showed Iris. “It came.”
Harry said, “Congratulations. Now you have something to drink to.”
“The embassy said it was hopeless. You did nothing?”
“Nothing at all. Kampai!”
As they drank, Harry felt a visual sweep. He didn’t recall Beechum’s eyes being quite so red, and he had to wonder how much the man knew about the next day’s flight. Had Alice mentioned that she wasn’t coming back? Harry assumed that, as a rule, women didn’t tell husbands much.
Willie studied the letter again. “It’s so short.”
“The shorter, the better.”
“What is ‘shorter, the better’? That would be rare.” Colonel Meisinger had come out of one of the gloomy hallways the Imperial had so many of. He was strapped into Gestapo black, and when he bowed to Iris, it was like watching a toad pirouette. “Don’t you agree?”
Willie said, “Colonel, I have good news, permission for Iris to leave with me. It’s wonderful.”
Meisinger snatched the letter from Willie. He opened his mouth with amusement. “I will say this in English so your wife understands. This paper, whatever it says, is hardly enough. It has to be in German. We’re Germans. Also police and educational records and an examination of her family, all in German.”
“Not enough?” Willie asked.
“I just said. I’m sure your wife will find suitable arrangements here.” Meisinger cocked his head toward the sing-along. “Wonderful spirit. I’ll contact whoever sent this letter and explain things to him.”
“Harry?” Iris asked.
Meisinger said, “Yes, Mr. Niles, are you acquainted with the immigration policies of the Third Reich?”
“No, sorry.”
“He can’t help you,” Meisinger explained to Iris.
“Join us, Colonel?” Harry said, ignoring Willie’s discouragement.
“One drink,” Meisinger settled into the chair next to Iris. “I regret the situation, but it will be resolved, I’m sure. I will take a personal interest.”
“You’re enjoying Japan?” Harry asked.
“I would enjoy it more if the Japanese would do more than chase Chinese bandits. And do more about the Jews.”
“You want the Jews to leave?” Willie asked.
“No, I want them sent back where we can get our hands on them. Harry, you seem to understand the Japanese, why are they so blind to the Jewish problem?”
“They’ve hardly ever seen Jews. Even the anti-Semites haven’t seen any Jews.”
“It’s a matter of education?”
“And talking to the right people.”
“Ah, yes, always the case.” Meisinger’s drink arrived. He tipped his bulk to raise his glass. “Heil Hitler.”
“Cheers,” said Harry.
“And who would the right people be?” Meisinger asked.
“Anyone but General Tanaka.”
“Who is he?”
Harry tapped Willie’s letter. He laughed, and Meisinger joined in.
“I’m sure we can smooth his feathers,” Meisinger said. “It’s hardly more than a note.”
“That’s a sign.” Harry took his time offering cigarettes. He hummed along with the song. The singing was terrible, but for camaraderie it was hard to beat the Brits. If the piano were a sinking ship, they’d probably still be singing: What’s the use of worrying? It never was worthwhile. It occurred to Harry that if the Japanese were attacking Hawaii, they would attack Singapore at the same time. Alice Beechum was the only person he knew with the intelligence and means to warn Singapore and Pearl.
“A sign of what?” Meisinger finally bit.
“Rank. The higher you are, the less you have to say. Tanaka is at the very top. A letter this brief is polite, but it’s an order. You asked for a check on Iris, and this is your answer.”
“But it’s inadequate. We need much more and in German.”
“You’re in Japan.”
“I will call this Tanaka and explain.”
“A call might settle it, but not from you. It would have to be from someone of equal rank to Tanaka, a German general.”
“The only general at the embassy is Ambassador Ott.”
“Then the ambassador. It looks like Tanaka sent this letter today, Sunday, which is unusual and suggests someone important got to him. That would involve losing face all around. General Tanaka would certainly be very insulted. The army would be offended, too. So, I think you’re right, you should have the ambassador call as soon as possible.”
“Because of this note? Over Oriental rank and face?”
Harry produced a helpless shrug. “It’s Japan.”
“This is preposterous.” Meisinger sank into his chair.
“Is the ambassador busy?”
“On a Sunday evening, Ambassador Ott has recitals of classical music for a few friends. He does not like to be disturbed. I myself have other things to do besides sit and eat cookies with a group of professional dilettantes.”
“You may want to talk to him before the general does. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll come up with a solution.”
Meisinger picked up the letter again, as if he’d suddenly learned Japanese. “This stamp is Tanaka’s?”
“Yes, it’s considered an extension of the general himself. Very important.”
The colonel let the letter drop to the table. “Well, Staub, it seems that you have influential friends.”
“It does,” Willie said.
“So, perhaps this is a matter of ‘when in Rome’…We certainly don’t want to offend our hosts, especially the army, when we are trying to encourage them to cooperate with us. I have no personal objections to Frau Staub joining you. We will even skip the usual procedures. So, everybody’s happy.”
Meisinger pasted on a magnanimous expression; what had just been a vital sticking point was now casually swept away. When the colonel took his leave, Willie and Iris reacted as if a shark had swum around them and moved on.
Harry said, “You’d better go. What you can’t pack in five minutes, leave. Just get to the ship.”
“You knew he was going to let us go?” Willie asked.
“He had to. The man was such an embarrassment in Warsaw that the Gestapo sent him here. If he fouled up in Tokyo, his next stop was the South Pole.”
“When the waiter read the letter, he never mentioned General Tanaka by name, yet you knew it.”
“It’s not a talent I advertise, but I can read upside down. Willie, the Orinoco leaves from Yokohama, and it’s just going to slip into the dark. Go.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Iris said.
“Don’t thank me. You know why else the colonel let you go? He thinks that while he may not be able to stop Iris from boarding the ship, she won’t get past the Gestapo on the other end because of German race laws. That’s after you’ve run fifteen hundred miles of blockade, so don’t thank me, please. If you put in at any neutral ports, say, Lisbon, you might want to let the ship go on without you.”