“What’s he want?”
Renette smiled, sat down by the window, and said, “Hannover Station, fifteen minutes,” and then she cocked her head at Jesso, and he thought that if she had known the expression she would have said, “So do me something; go ahead.”
“So you’re safe,” he said, and they both had a laugh.
It changed by the time they were in the taxi. The thought of Kator had started to irritate him, his beef and the stance like a Buddha and the mind like a machine. When they passed the intersection where he had left the ambulance he saw it was still there, with more parking tickets. But even that didn’t amuse him. For once he wasn’t eager to see Kator or to think out the next step before Kator took it. Jesso leaned back in the seat and put his arm around Renette. She leaned, took his other hand, but he sat up again, watching the traffic.
The row of villas had dots of light all along, but the von Lohe place was lit up as if for a coronation. Jesso paid the cab driver and took Renette up the drive. They carried no suitcases. They passed long cars all the way up and Hofer was at the open door, ready with a guest book.
“Evening, Hofer. Don’t bother. We’re not seeing anybody.”
That shindig wasn’t for him, anyway, so Jesso turned to the stairs. Kator could wait. Renette was ahead of him, but then she stopped on the stairs.
“Up with you,” said Jesso.
“He wants you, I think,” and she nodded toward the hall.
Jesso turned and saw Kator. He hadn’t heard the sharp little steps because of the party noises.
“I’ve been expecting you, Jesso.”
That bastard had gall. Not a hair out of place, soup and fish as if they had been invented for him, and looking cool as ice.
“So you got what you wanted.”
“Hardly,” Kator said. He made a stiff smile.
“And that’s the way it’ll be till you start playing it my way.”
“You’re not complaining, are you, Jesso? It paid well.”
“And I’m keeping it.”
“The wages of war,” Kator said, bowing briefly.
Jesso turned to go but Renette hadn’t moved yet. She started to go when Kator stopped her.
“After you have changed, Renette, please see me in my study.”
“She’s going upstairs,” Jesso said.
“Naturally. And after she has changed-”
“Why, Johannes?”
Kator seemed to need a moment to collect himself, but then it came out as smoothly as ever.
“I will wait for you in the library, Renette. Afterward, there is the party.”
“But Johannes, I’d rather-”
“She’ll see you in the library,” Jesso said. “Without changing. And no party.”
Kator seemed to swell out. When he didn’t say anything, Jesso told him, “And I’ll wait here. So don’t be long.” Then he stepped aside and waved Renette down the stairs.
“And tomorrow, Kator, you and I talk turkey.”
Kator heard it but turned on his heel, following Renette.
She was waiting for him by the desk. He stopped in front of her, looked her up and down, told her to sit.
“I’ll stand, Johannes.”
“Very well. I suppose you are bursting with information, my dear.”
“You mean about Jesso?”
“I was thinking of Jesso, yes. What have you learned?”
“I’ve learned this, Johannes. He doesn’t talk about business, but after a while he talked about you. He has no illusions about you, Johannes, and it does not frighten him.”
“This much I knew.”
“He is dangerous, Johannes.”
Kator sat down on one of the couches, crossed his legs, and spread his arms along the backrest. The pose made him look more bull-necked than usual.
“You stand there, Renette, and find it necessary to warn me?”
“You are my brother.”
Kator gave one short hard laugh. Then the big nostrils seemed to move up between his eyes.
“And Jesso, what is he to you?”
“A lot.”
“You love him?”
It surprised Kator when she just shrugged.
“He means a lot, Johannes.”
“And the wedding, my dear. When will I announce the wedding?”
“I don’t think I’ll marry him.”
“And when will you return to us, my dear, to resume your proper functions?”
“If I leave him it will have nothing to do with you. Not any more.”
Kator stopped playing. He understood how she had changed, and more, he understood something that Renette herself might not yet know; that she would now be capable of leaving Jesso just as she had left her brother. It was a fact that pleased him, a fact that he understood. She had become like himself, in a way. She had gained his kind of freedom to choose and discard. So for the moment he left her alone. He made it light.
“Would you like me to tell Helmut about this?”
“Suit yourself,” she said, and went upstairs.
Chapter Seventeen
When Jesso heard Renette pass his door, he gave her a few minutes and then went to her suite, behind the bend of the hallway. Downstairs there was music and polite laughter, but Jesso hardly heard it.
The first thing Jesso saw was the maid leaving, and there was no argument about it this time. She was carrying Renette’s dress and a few other things, and she left the door ajar for him when she saw him coming.
The big light was on in the room, so Jesso turned it off. Just the faint one by the bed was left. Renette was humming behind the door where the dressing room was. Jesso didn’t go in. He went back to his room and got himself pajamas. He hadn’t noticed before, but there was a small crest on one pocket; the von Lohe brand, most likely.
She was waiting for him. He could see her through the milky white thing she was wearing, white where it gathered and live skin tones where the thing stretched.
“Don’t come any closer,” she said. “Your suit scratches.”
Then she turned for him, wanting him to look. “I’ve done all the looking I’m going to,” he said.
“I’ll yell,” she said.
“I know you will.” But he didn’t go any closer. He went to the bathroom and took a shower. When he was through they pulled the quilted seat she had in the bedroom to the window and sat there looking out over the garden. The watery moon sent shafts of light here and there, and glittered on the cut glass of the decanter by the seat. It was a sweet liqueur with a curled gold leaf floating along the bottom, the kind of drink Jesso didn’t even know. He watched how she tasted it, and he had some and thought it was good too. They had more and sat on the seat.
“Turn some,” he said. “You’re poking me.”
“I have big hips.”
“Good.”
“If I turn I’ll just poke you somewhere else.”
“Good.”
She turned and they sat still.
“You know, I’ve never seen that garden at night.”
“I haven’t either.”
“Look at it sometime.”
“I will.”
“Not now.”
“I’m not looking now.”
“I know, Jesso.”
“Done with your glass?”
“Put it down for me, please?”
“Just drop it.”
She dropped it and looked where it rolled. “I might step on it in the dark.”
“You won’t. I’ll carry you.”
“Carry me now, Jesso.”
And then the door made an oiled movement, swung wide, and the big light overhead came on like an explosion. Jesso let go and jerked around just as Helmut closed the door. Then Jesso’s voice came like a bellow.
“What in hell do you want?”
It shook the Baron. It was an insult to which there was no answer. A moment later he drew himself up and sounded cultured.