The Diplomat's Daughter

Jin looked out at Agatha, her blond hair messy around her shoulders, her dress wrinkled, and said, “She’s dealt with much worse. I’ve seen him—and many other patrons—much drunker, and so have you. I know you think Agatha is just another one of our innocent girls, pocketing money for survival, but she had an affair with him last year.”

“What?” said Leo, too loudly. “She was involved with that Nazi? With Pohl?”

Both Agatha and Pohl looked toward the kitchen.

“Involved because he paid her to be involved,” whispered Jin, pulling Leo away from the door out of frustration. “Agatha’s parents are dead, you know that. She’s lived here alone for years. Don’t judge her. She’s just trying to stay alive and the German soldiers have money.”

“Because they steal it,” said Leo. “She shouldn’t be with him now. Not this time.”

“Why?” said Jin, holding Leo’s arm. “She still needs the money. Are you going to give it to her?”

“But he’s an SS officer,” Leo countered, starting to panic. “Did you see his high-ranking insignia? Do you know the type of things he has certainly done to gain such status? And now he’s going to have his hands all over Agatha?”

“They all look the same to me,” said Jin, letting Leo go. “Do what you want, but don’t cause trouble inside. You know my father will cut your pay if you do.”

“Of course I won’t,” said Leo, rushing out of the hot kitchen to see if Agatha was still in Pohl’s arms. He looked around the big room for her, but she was gone, and so was Pohl. The other German officer was in a corner with Svetlana, one of the youngest Russian girls.

Without turning back to tell Jin, Leo ran out the front door, hearing Liwei call out his name as the door closed behind him.

He ran around the most trafficked corner, avoiding rickshaw drivers and drunk young men, and screamed for Agatha, but didn’t see her. Turning on his heels, he started running in the other direction. Right away, he spotted them. Pohl, his crisp jacket draped over his arm, was hand in hand with Agatha, the lights of the city encasing their intimacy, though it looked to Leo like she was trying to break free from his grasp.

Leo ran forward and called out her name, letting all sense go. He didn’t think about what had happened to his father in front of their apartment, or to his relatives since he’d left Austria. He could only think about beautiful Agatha in bed with a Nazi.

She turned around smiling—her red dress wet at the bottom from the dirty street, her skin even more exposed than it had been inside—but she shook her head when she saw him. “Go away, Leo!” she yelled, breaking free of Pohl. “Go back to Liwei’s.”

“Who is this boy?” said Pohl, frowning. He was starting to sweat from all the alcohol. “A German? Was he at the dancing club?”

“He’s a dishwasher,” she said, turning to Pohl and trying to move him along. “Ignore him.”

“With pleasure,” said Pohl, reaching his hand low on Agatha’s waist.

“I’m fine, Leo,” she called out, her expression indicating otherwise. “Please don’t get involved.”

“Yes,” said Pohl, pulling her forward, roughly. “She’s going to be perfectly fine in my bed all night. I’ll return her to taxi dancing tomorrow. Little Agatha, beautiful Agatha, and the exquisite things she will do for money.” Pulling her arm out with a jerk, he did a little spin with her in the middle of the busy road, yelling at a rickshaw driver as he ran his lopsided cart close to them.

“Agatha, come back with me!” Leo yelled out, walking closer to them, his clothes wet with dishwater.

“Get away from us!” said Pohl, turning in Leo’s direction. “Listen to the girl. Go back to your washing.”

“Agatha, come with me,” said Leo again. He was close enough to touch her so he reached out for her hand.

“Is this who is in your bed now?” Pohl asked angrily, his face inches away from Agatha’s, shaking her shoulders.

“No,” said Agatha, frozen in his grip. “He works with me. You must have seen him at the club, Felix. He’s just a dishwasher.”

Leo took a step back as someone yelled in Chinese for them to get out of the road, but Felix stayed right where he was, a vise around Agatha’s body.

“You don’t need money this badly,” said Leo, fully realizing how foolish he was being, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Agatha would not be climbing in a Nazi’s bed, not right in front of him.

“She’s not just doing this for the money,” said Pohl, still holding on to Agatha, shaking her. “I’ve known her for many years.”

Leo knew he should stay quiet, warn Agatha to be careful and then walk away, but he was fixed to the spot. “Just one year,” said Leo, loudly, his heart racing as he thought of Jin’s words. “It’s only been one year since you met.”

Agatha was quietly imploring Leo to leave, but he kept talking over her. “You barely know her. But I know that she will not be with you tonight. She’s returning to work with me.”

Pohl shoved Agatha aside so he was in front of Leo and she fell to the ground.

“Don’t touch her!” Leo screamed, lunging for Agatha, but Pohl stopped him and pushed him so hard that Leo stumbled backward, but managed not to fall. The fact that he’d been drinking most of the night was not helping his judgment, but he knew he was still more sober than Pohl.

“Is this a joke?” the German asked, dropping his coat and smiling as he reached over and knocked Leo to the ground easily. “Some German dishwasher in China is trying to protect your honor?” he asked Agatha, who had righted herself. “Oh, my little beauty,” he said when Agatha reached for the side of her dress, which had torn with her fall.

It was the perfect time for Leo to run. Pohl was concerned with Agatha and wasn’t looking at him. But Leo’s feet felt like lead. He couldn’t leave her, and he couldn’t let Pohl win. In Vienna, he could never have stood that close to an SS officer without being outnumbered. If a Jew stepped out of line, it meant death. In Shanghai, where Pohl was the first Nazi Leo had seen, he felt protected. And even if the chaos of the city couldn’t keep him safe, he was willing to take whatever punishment was bestowed upon him. So instead of running away, he walked over to them and with all his strength, punched Pohl in the side of his jaw. Leo heard the bone crack before Pohl fell to the ground, the most satisfying sound he had ever heard.

Agatha screamed for Leo to run, but it was too late. Pohl was up, despite his broken jaw and bleeding nose, and before Leo could turn around, he had landed a punch clear across his face.

Leo didn’t fall to the ground, his lead feet helping to keep him stable. Instead he looked at Pohl and said, “God will punish you for your crimes, you German Nazi filth.” Pohl’s next punch caused Leo to tilt backward, falling headfirst onto the pavement. He moved his arms up to block his face, but Pohl was too fast, sitting on Leo’s chest and landing one punch after the other.

“Stop!” he heard Agatha scream, as his face and body went numb. “Leave him! You’re going to kill him!”

No longer able to move, Leo still felt Pohl steal his shoes before going through his pockets and taking his wallet.

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