“Joe Snell kept saying, ‘Honeywell high.’ The high column of figures shows production of the trigger.”
Delf nodded, stopped making the spirals, and went over the columns. He checked it, folded the paper, and slid it into his pocket. That was all. Then he spiraled again.
But Kator wasn’t so calm. The slow rage grew on his face like an attack of the hives, and when his mouth came open as if it hurt, Jesso thought that the man would scream. Only a croak came out, a breathy, articulate croak.
“'Honeywell high'! That’s all-'Honeywell high'! A complicated bit of remembering, a complex piece of instruction that saved you all this time from-from-” His eyes shone as if he were seeing some swift, sharp torture that would have dragged anything out of him and now it was lost. He sat by when Jesso started to laugh, long and loud, and he sat by while Jesso got it out of his system because he was through with waiting and free to laugh. If Kator hadn’t been convinced before, he knew it now This time Jesso had told the truth. That’s the way that laugh had gone.
From now on it was an easy kind of waiting for Jesso. They sat around to wait for the cables to come, the last formality that would put the touch on the deal. They came one after the other, until four in the morning, and each time Jesso folded one and stuck it away, it was one more step into one great big future.
Chapter Nineteen
He didn’t really come back down to earth till they got outside. A blank sun was over the street, and the early morning looked anesthetic. It made Jesso feel dirty. He ached in the back and his shirt felt old. He could feel the socks in his shoes and it made him nervous.
“Where’s that damn car of your’s, Kator?”
They stood at the curb where the sprinkled asphalt started to steam in the sun. They sprinkled the streets. They glazed them early in the morning so that the poor bastard who had come out on the street real early in the morning could feel his eyeballs get sore in the sun.
“Didn’t you hear me?”
Kator had heard. He turned slowly, and when Jesso saw the look on that face he really came to. Kator was just getting ready. Kator wasn’t through by a long shot The hate on Kator’s face was distilled.
So Kator didn’t have to say a word for Jesso to see it all.
“You’re ready to fight?”
Then the car rolled up.
“I shall see you, Jack Jesso.” Kator opened the door.
For the moment it threw him. He had to blink and remember that Kator did things in a different way.
“You see this street, Jesso? It is empty,” Kator said. “Good-by, Jesso, and run as fast as you can.”
But when he got into his car Jesso pushed after him, sat down, slammed the door.
“Sporting chance, huh?” Jesso tried laughing. He gave it up quickly and talked. “I’m sticking close like a Siamese twin. I’m gonna sit on your back or in your pocket and watch you move. And if you move down a dark alley to get me so I can catch a slug, I’ll be so close, Kator, you’ll catch it in the same place I do, only first.”
“Get out of my car.”
Jesso leaned back, crossed his legs. “I left my toothbrush at your house.”
Kator wasn’t ready to laugh, and above all not on Jesso’s terms.
They drove to Tempelhof and they flew to Hannover and each wished the other was dead. They tried it quiet at first, but the tension between them was too close to the surface. It bound them together like steel wires so that Kator’s tight collar became Jesso’s discomfort and Jesso’s throat became Kator’s pain. And the next move perhaps would be big enough, would be enough of a shock to break things wide open. Each was the other’s disease as they sat scratching at time, straining to find the place where the cut could be made.
“You can stop chewing that lip of yours, Kator. You’ll eat yourself up.”
“It annoys you, Jesso? I hope it stays with you each time you face a meal.”
“You know, when I can’t think of a dirty word from now on, I’ll say Kator.”
“It is remarkable. I have never felt like this before, Jesso. The thought of you does not make me hate you. It is more like hate of myself, and that is the worst state of all.”
But it never broke, just got tighter. They probed each other for the clearest pain and each winced when his own strikes struck where he wanted it.
“Your toothbrush, you say. Might that be my sister?”
“They never made a thing that was related to you, Kator.”
“You think she is yours, then?”
“It wouldn’t mean anything to you.”
“You are right, Jesso. It is the other way around.”
“To her you’re just a whoremaster.”
“And she doesn’t mind it, Jesso.”
“That’s good. It’s good she doesn’t really know you, Kator.”
Both of them stopped at the same time. They left the plane and found Kator’s limousine waiting. Kator stopped talking about his sister and Jesso stopped talking about his woman. But he had to think about her. He thought about her as the only sane spot in the strong twist of his hate, the only spot where hate had no meaning, and so he really thought of Renette for the first time. He found it was hard to think of her. He remembered the tone of her voice, the feel of her skin, the way she stood, but all those things were parts only and the whole woman was hard to think about. As if he knew her so well that there was no point in thinking of it. If he were questioning her, any part of her, it would be different. But there was nothing to question, nothing to think, because she was all his and no doubts.
They crossed the square with the Herrenhauser Allee opposite and both of them had the same thought. It was a hope. It was as if the end had to come now, and the tight pull between them soon had to crack.
But when it happened it didn’t crack and there was no drama. Neither wanted to think about it, so it happened as if nothing happened at all. The car slid up and stopped by the door. Hofer was there. They saw Hofer stand there in his striped pants and frock coat, and they didn’t fit, because no clothes are made to fit an old man.
Hofer opened the car door and Kator got out. He said, “How are you, Hofer? It is good to be back.”
Then Jesso got out and said, “Good to see you, Hofer.”
Hofer followed them into the hall, where he took Kator’s coat. Jesso wasn’t wearing any.
“Your mail is in the study,” said Hofer, and Kator went there.
The dim hall was big and clean. Jesso thought of going upstairs, to the end of the corridor maybe, but then he stayed downstairs and went to the kitchen. They gave him a cup of coffee and he had it there leaning against the long pantry shelf. The maid was putting a tea service away.
“How’s Frau von Lohe?” Jesso asked.
“Quite well, sir. She is resting.”
Quite well, sir. Jesso gave up and lit a cigarette. Then he asked for another cup of coffee. He had it finished before he knew how, and he stamped his cigarette out on the saucer. He kept crushing the butt as if he were trying to burn through the porcelain.
What was he waiting for? He pushed himself away from the pantry shelf and made for the door. When he found himself still holding the cup, he almost threw it against the wall. He went back to the pantry, put down the cup, and got out.
She was resting. She was lying on the bed, wearing a house thing that went down to her feet, and when Jesso came in she didn’t turn at first because she was sleeping.
“Renette,” he said, and he stood looking down at her. Then he said her name again, low this time, but his voice was much more urgent because suddenly waiting was almost like pain.
She had a nice way of waking up. She opened her eyes slowly, saw him, and smiled, and then she lay there a while longer.
“Renette, do you hear me? It’s done. We’ve got to move fast.”
“You’re back,” she said. “You didn’t take long.”