As her car roared down the street, Nina stared indifferently at the bank of low-hanging clouds and the flags barely trembling in the wind.
“To Avenue Joffre,” she commanded her driver.
For several years the citizens of the Great Powers had been looking down their noses at the Russian community in this backwater in the French Concession. The penniless refugees had disturbed the established way of life and shattered the myth of the superiority of the white race.
Now even Mr. Sterling had to acknowledge a basic unpalatable fact: It was not their race or knowledge but their circumstances that had given the whites their all-powerful reputation in China. A ticket on a steamer to the Far East was an expensive item and not an option for the poor of Europe or America. However, as soon as a big, randomly-formed group of white people had arrived in Shanghai, it became clear that there was nothing particular “superior” about being white. The differences between white and Chinese society weren’t as great as everyone liked to pretend. White society was also divided into the educated and the illiterate, the simple-minded and the intelligent, those who contributed and those who didn’t.
The outcome was visible here, in Avenue Joffre. Some of its inhabitants had vanished without a trace, but its libraries, schools, theaters, and shops were proof that the rest of the Russian refugees were a breed of survivors who had managed to rebuild their lives from the ashes.
What had Shanghai taught Nina? That fears are illusory and exist largely in your head. There was a time when the very idea of emigration would have chilled her heart, but in December 1922, she had taken a step towards the unknown and had succeeded. Now she was confident she would do the same.
Don’t lose heart, Nina repeated to herself, but as the funnel of the Pamyat Lenina hove into view, her heart sank. Armored steel panels had been riveted along the sides of the boat, and she could make out the shape of machine guns hidden under their canvas covers on the stern.
There was a war on, but it was too late to turn back now, and Nina stepped decisively onto the gangplank.
When she reached the upper deck, she saw Don Fernando, puffing on a cigar.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in surprise. “Does your husband know where you’re going?”
Nina nodded reluctantly. She felt a pang of shame that Don Fernando should witness her affair with Daniel. However, maybe it was all for the best. Let him give Klim a blow-by-blow account. It was all he deserved.
Time passed, but there was still no sign of Daniel. Nina walked along the deck of the boat, looking askance at the Russian-speaking crewmen. It was incomprehensible: a couple of weeks ago, they had been in Soviet Russia, a completely different, parallel world.
Nina couldn’t stand it any longer. “Do you know where Mr. Bernard is?” she asked Fernando. “He should be on this boat.”
The Don looked at her in a strange way. “Oh… Mr. Bernard has already left.”
“What? Where to?”
“To Wuhan. He… He’s got some business there.”
Nina looked at him, shocked. What was she to do? Go back home? That bastard Daniel had left her in the lurch again. She would be completely lost without him.
Rushing down the stairs, Nina caught her sleeve on the handrail and hit her elbow on a cast iron joist. The pain was so great that everything went dark for a moment.
There was a prolonged whistle, the anchor chain rattled, and the boat set sail.
Nina sat down on the step cupping her injured elbow in her hand. That was it; she was going to Wuhan. Her Shanghai adventure had begun with her being stranded on a boat with Don Fernando, and now history had repeated itself.
Nina tried to guess why Daniel hadn’t told her that he had left early. Was he waiting for her now? Or were all the promises he had made back in the cinema some sort of practical joke?
To calm herself down a little, Nina leafed through a newly-printed Russian book she had found in her cabin. It had been published using the new Soviet alphabet and Nina found it difficult to read. However, the author’s logic was even more baffling. The Bolsheviks regarded persecuting, robbing, and murdering the bourgeoisie as a justified means to their revolutionary ends. They seemed to believe that they would obliterate class barriers by destroying the exploiting classes and deciding who should live and who should die on the basis of their social origins.
Hasn’t anyone noticed, Nina thought, this ideology’s similarity to racism?
What kind of times did they live in when people around the world judged each other using such arbitrary categories as race or social origin instead of their personal merits?
She put the book aside, went to the window, and parted the curtains with the words “Glory to Labor!” printed on them. The steam engine was roaring, a muddy bow wave ran along the side of the boat. The river bank with its abandoned farmhouses was powdered with snow.
Is Klim worrying about me? Nina thought. Or was he just glad to see the back of me?
“Hey, Miss Nina!” Don Fernando banged on the wall. “Dinner is served. I ordered them to bring it to my cabin. Let’s eat together to stave off the boredom.”
Nina took her purse with her money and documents and went to visit the Don. One-Eye stepped aside, letting her through the narrow cabin door.
“Come in and make yourself comfortable,” Fernando told Nina.
She sat down at the table and immediately noticed an opium pipe next to her plate, its silver bowl intricately cast in the form of a demon’s head. This was all she needed.
“Why aren’t you eating with the other passengers in the dining lounge?” Nina asked nervously.
“Forget that,” Don Fernando snorted. “Do you know who’s sailing with us? Fanya Borodin, the harridan of a wife of Mikhail Borodin, Chiang Kai-shek’s political adviser from Moscow. She and the other Soviet diplomatic messengers are also on their way back to Wuhan.”
Fernando complained heatedly and at some length about Fanya, who had accused him of being a liar and a crook. “She’s a fine one to talk when it comes to the truth. She just told the Shanghai authorities that she was a civilian, but in fact she was on a mission to help the communists.”
Nina remembered Daniel telling her that it would be better to stay away from Shanghai.
“How do you know Mrs. Borodin?” she asked.
“I have a lot of acquaintances. I’m a useful man, you know.”
The Don showed Nina the pipe. “Do you want a smoke? You look terrible, all pale and miserable. Don’t worry, I won’t offer you any opium; you’d get hooked in no time. Try some hashish instead. Have your dinner, relax, and then we can retire to my bed for a bit of fun.”
Nina jumped up. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“Oh come on! You don’t need to play the innocent with me. We’re going to have to spend several days on this rust bucket before we reach Wuhan. Why not have a bit of fun before we get there? Klim doesn’t want you anymore—everyone knows that you’re not getting along with each other. And we don’t need to tell Daniel anything.”
Nina went cold at the thought that Fernando saw her merely as some cheap whore who was running away to her lover. In furious silence, she threw the napkin in Don’s face and stormed outside.
Once back in her cabin, she could hear the Don’s voice from the other side of the thin wall. “I can’t guarantee you’ll find Daniel in Wuhan, and I wouldn’t recommend wandering around the streets on your own. A defenseless young woman like you could easily find herself with a big bump on her head, and without her astrakhan coat, stockings, and knickers, assuming you’re wearing any of course.”