Эльвира Барякина - White Ghosts

“I always thought that men do big deeds out of courage, but women out of despair,” he roared over the racket of the street. “If you want to witness a truly heroic act, then scare the living daylights out of a lady.”

Nina didn’t answer. The Don had been right: if her scam was discovered, she would end up in a Chinese prison, which was tantamount to a certain death for the likes of her. But she was desperate and she had no “Plan B.”

The offices of Aulman, Bormann and Pevzner, Attorneys at Law were located in a stunning five-story building with an elevator. Without even knocking, Don Fernando barged straight through the reception and into one of the offices, beckoning Nina to follow him.

“Allow me to introduce the best lawyer in Shanghai!”

A short, neatly dressed gentleman with a curled mustache was standing on his desk, hanging a scroll on the wall. Two Chinese clerks in European suits were assisting him.

“Don Fernando, is that you?” he exclaimed, jumping off his desk.

Standing before them was Tony Aulman. In excellent French, he explained that his Chinese clients often brought him valuable presents for successfully resolving their difficulties: ancient calligraphy, poems, and artwork. Naturally, his clients wanted to see their gifts on display, but the office lacked the wall space to show them all. So, every day they had to re-hang these works of art depending on who was coming.

Aulman motioned his visitors towards two wide oxblood armchairs.

“What can I do for you?”

Nina felt like an unfaithful wife at a venereal clinic. She was trying hard to pretend that she was a respectable lady but still had to admit her sinful deeds.

Aulman listened to her, showing no surprise, as if confidence tricksters dreaming of making money out of fake passports were frequent visitors to his office.

“It shouldn’t be a problem to set up a consulate,” he said. “We’ll draw up a fake state decree of foundation for you, but the permission documentation will be genuine. We can get it done at the Chinese Foreign Affairs Office. How long do you think you’ll last?”

“As long as luck allows,” Nina replied, growing a little bolder.

Aulman twisted his mustache thoughtfully. “Your problem is that you’re claiming a piece of someone else’s pie. All the other consulates will immediately start digging around to find out who you really are and what you’re really up to. I’ll give you some advice: stay away from passports and deal in liquor instead.”

Don Fernando slapped his thighs. “You’re absolutely right!”

“What do you mean?” Nina frowned.

“The customs here take a duty of ninety-five dollars for a crate of champagne,” Aulman explained. “But consulates have the right to purchase alcohol duty-free—for social events, of course. If you were to order ten crates, you’d be able to make a considerable mark up.”

“Surely the customs people will get suspicious,” Nina said. “It’ll be hard for a small consulate to justify ten crates of champagne, even in a month.”

“If it was only you and your staff drinking it, no doubt. But if the Czechoslovak Consul was arranging small receptions for important personages, then no one would start counting exactly how many bottles his guests have got through.”

“I’ll sort out the champagne business,” Don Fernando said, “but the parties and receptions will be your domain, ma’am. Do we have a deal?”

Nina was completely taken aback; she never dreamed that events could take such a sudden and dramatic turn.

“How am I going to arrange the parties?” she asked. “I don’t know anyone. No one would come.”

Aulman showed her a framed photograph standing on his desk. It was an image of a pretty blond woman with dimples on her cheeks.

“I’ll introduce you to my wife, Tamara. She’ll figure everything out.”

They agreed they would all have shares in the business. Nina’s job would be to negotiate with Jiří and arrange the ceremonial side of things, the Don would establish relations with the local liquor dealers, and Aulman would provide the documents and connections with the Chinese civil service and bureaucracy.

Out on the street, Don Fernando blew a kiss to the sky. “I owe you one, Holy Virgin!” Then he turned to Nina. “You have no idea how lucky we are that Aulman decided to join us. With him and his connections, we risk nothing. What’s more, he has very deep pockets.”

“Then what does he need us for?” Nina asked. “If he’s so rich, a few hundred dollars more or less won’t make any difference to him.”

“It’s all because of his wife. She used to be the first grand lady of Shanghai, but a year ago she fell from her horse and broke her spine. She’s bored to death sitting at home, and it would appear Aulman has decided to keep her busy and entertained with your scam. His wife loves dressing-up and organizing social events. Besides Tamara is Russian, so you’ll have much in common.”

“Have you ever meet her?” Nina asked. “What’s she like?”

“Oh, she’s a great woman,” Don Fernando said reverently. “Can you imagine it, a woman paralyzed from the waist down, and yet her husband is so in love with her that he doesn’t even go to brothels.”

Nina reached the Aulmans’ house at seven in the evening. A quiet servant appeared at the gate and led her down the red sand-dusted pathway. The heat of the day wreathed the lawn in steam, and the birds squabbled in their roosts for the night.

Nina felt nervous. What if Tamara didn’t take a liking to her? Jiří had been right when he had said that Nina often put people off. Nobody wants to be around a woman who has obviously lost her moral bearing and has no concept of right and wrong.

If you want to make friends and charm people, Nina told herself, you have to be witty and carefree. Be amusing and try not to offend anyone.

Jiří had screamed his head off when she informed him about her plans to make him a fake consul.

“You’re going to rake off all the cash,” he cried, “but if anything happens, it’ll be me who goes to jail.”

Nina had told him that if he didn’t agree, he could start packing. It had been blackmail, pure and simple—where could he go? Who needed a musician with missing fingers?

“You give me no choice,” he had said, sullenly avoiding her eyes. “I’ll be your consul.”

But I have no choice either, she told herself for the hundredth time.

The wide windows of the Aulmans’ house were open, and behind the mosquito nets, Nina could see a brightly lit room with a grand piano, bookcases, and low oriental-style sofas.

Three boys in scout uniforms were building a fortress on the carpet.

“What are you doing?” yelled one in English. “Can’t you see that’s meant for the roof? It’ll all fall down now because of you.”

“It won’t! Mom, tell him!”

Under the grand piano a pair of elegant Russian borzoi wolfhounds were gnawing at either end of a huge bone.

The servant showed Nina into the house. “This way, please.” He bowed, letting her into the room.

Tamara was sitting in an armchair, propped up with embroidered pillows. Small, brightly colored parakeets were fluttering about in their cages on each side of her.

“Nina Vasilievna? Nice to meet you!” Tamara said, greeting her guest by her patronymic in the traditional, respectful way.

“And what’s your patronymic?” Nina asked, returning the courtesy.

“Please just call me by my first name,” Tamara replied. “I’m so used to it here—I've become completely shanghaied .”

Her hair was not blond but white, and her young face looked emaciated; the dimples on her cheeks were gone. Tamara’s blue silk dress emphasized her turquoise eyes, and her wrist was adorned with a string of pearls that looked very expensive.