He moved again, but she was up.
“Jesso,” she said. “Jesso, wait.”
He stood next to her and held her arm.
“Wait for me, Jesso. In the next room. I’ll come back and we’ll sit in the next room.”
Her arm moved in his hand and she was walking to the door that led into the hall.
“There’s brandy in the cabinet,” she said. “The one by the fireplace.” Then she closed the door.
Jesso balled his hands and stared after her. She’d done it again, that trick of saying the wrong thing, of mixing things that didn’t belong together.
He went to the next room, which was almost dark. The only light came from a lamp with fringes hanging down from the shade, and from the fireplace. The fireplace was busy with red flames and being cozy and intimate, and the whole thing was so completely what might have been expected that he kicked at an overstuffed chair. And brandy yet. Sniff brandy and say things into the fire and she’d probably be wearing a hostess gown. Nothing slinky, of course, because now they knew each other, but probably a heavy brocade or some such lavish thing to make it festive and also lush.
He had the cabinet door open and saw the bottles and started to reach for one, just as he was expected to do. And of course there were the snifters, a row of them with big bellies. He slammed the cabinet shut, hoping to break something, but didn’t bother to check. Then he was on the second floor. There was also a third floor and another wing where the house angled about the garden, but she was probably here on the second floor. Both halls were dark. He went down the hall that angled to the right. At the end of the hallway there was light under a door. He walked in without knocking.
They both turned, the maid holding the house gown for Renette and then Renette, more slowly She finished shrugging it over her shoulders and held the front closed.
“Send her out,” Jesso said.
Renette turned to look at him. Her face was cold, he noticed, and if she had cared a little more it might have been mean. He looked where she held the gown and the damn thing was stiff, rich brocade.
“Get her out,” he said, and this time Renette nodded at the maid, who left obediently. When the door clicked shut, the silence was thick.
It wasn’t a very frilly room, but it was all female. Even the bed looked female.
“I’ll call you Renette,” he said. “Come here.”
She didn’t move.
He had his hands on her arms and ran his palm up and down. The brocade made a scratchy sound, feeling like tiny hooks on his skin.
“Wait, Jesso,” she said.
“Call me Jack.”
“I was coming back,” she said. “I didn’t expect-”
“Call me Jack.” He had her around the back now, the brocade like the tiniest hooks on his skin, millions of them, and then he felt her relax a little. She raised her head to him and she seemed smaller. Her shoes were off. He noticed the wide eyes looking and they were still waiting, but more blank now. Her mouth held a smile that was ready to make allowances.
“I’ll call you Jesso,” she said, and there was nothing friendly about it.
He bent down and kissed the mouth. Then he came up slowly.
“Try again,” he said.
There wasn’t time to answer.
Then he held her away a little and a line grew in the middle of his forehead.
“You don’t fight fair,” he said.
“I don’t fight.”
He laughed and looked at her hands, holding the gown together in front.
“You don’t let go.”
“I’m not holding you, Jesso.”
“You got it wrong.” His hands went over her arms again, scraping. “You’re supposed to give.”
She didn’t get it, and when he pulled her again she leaned away.
“You got it wrong,” he said again, and his hands were at her front, holding the lapels of the gown. When she shrugged and dropped her hands, the gown parted with a rustling like that of the old trees in the Allee.
She was naked, and beautiful. And like white stone.
“You bitch!”
She couldn’t answer then because his arms pressed the breath out of her, but she started to fight. It was crazy. He got her across the room, feeling the clawing of her nails, seeing her eyes, and he never knew it was fear.
When he woke the lights were still on. He got up, kicked his clothes out of the way, and turned the switch.
She lay still in the dim light from the night sky, eyes closed, but she didn’t seem stone any more. He lay down again, just touching her, hearing her breath. Then she moved.
“Jesso,” she said.
He could feel her heat as she turned.
“Jesso. Again.”
Chapter Thirteen
There was nothing for Jesso to do until ten because nobody had come down yet. He sat in a little room facing the lawn that went down to the wall by the street and waited. Then he heard Kator. He came downstairs and Jesso stopped him in the hall.
“Made your arrangements, Kator?”
“Good morning, Jesso. Yes, I have.”
“So when do we settle?”
Kator raised his eyebrows for a moment, but Jesso didn’t see it.
“I made the arrangements yesterday,” he said, and walked across the hall to the dining room. Jesso followed. “And there should be results today.”
He sat down and watched Hofer dish up the breakfast. Jesso had coffee.
“What arrangements?” Jesso asked.
Kator finished chewing, sipped chocolate.
“The-our buyer has been informed. The next move is his.”
“When?”
“Jesso, I have not seen anyone, nor has the mail been brought in.”
Jesso had to watch him finish his breakfast. Then Kator rang for the mail. There was quite a pile of it. Kator found the telegram quickly.
“The answer,” he said.
He put it down so Jesso could see it, but except for a date and an address, the text made no sense to Jesso. Kator looked active now He had pulled out a cigar but laid it down by the silver pot containing the chocolate and talked in his hard, even way.
“My request for a meeting has been granted. The only difficulty is the time.”
“The sooner, the better, Kator.”
“Of course. We will be in Munich tomorrow.” Kator paused, picked up his cigar, and rolled it between his fingers. If this guy was nervous, Jesso couldn’t tell.
“It will have to be done in this manner. You take the afternoon train to Munich. It will get you there in the forenoon. I myself have a previous appointment elsewhere, so I won’t go with you. I will fly to Munich early tomorrow and meet you at the hotel. From there we will meet our contact together and begin negotiations sometime that afternoon.”
There was nothing wrong with it. If there was, it could only be a senseless and stupid stall, and Kator wasn’t going to be that stupid.
“I’ll go,” Jesso. Said. He was trying to remember whether he had any ammunition for the revolver in his overcoat upstairs.
“Very good.” Kator gathered his mail and stood up. “It will be the time to tell the truth, Jesso.” He left for his study.
Jesso went upstairs to make sure about that revolver.
It was eleven o’clock then and Renette came out of her shower. She held her hair up with both hands while the maid rubbed her with a large towel. Then the phone rang. It was a short conversation, and after Renette hung up she put on her underthings, slippers, and the heavy brocade. When she walked into Kator’s study she looked awake and clean. She stopped by the desk and nodded.
“Well?” said Kator.
She shrugged and reached for a cigarette on the desk.
“You look awake, Renette, but you don’t act it.”
“I’m fine, Johannes.” She smoked.
He got up and walked to the empty fireplace. The big hood with gargoyles and Atlases made Kator look very squat, like a bulldog.
“You look as beautiful as ever,” he said. There was an edge to his voice. “Only a little wasted.”
She laughed. “Wasted!” she said, and then she laughed again.