“Then why does he say he is?” Lauren asked with a child’s directness.
“Because that is what he would like to be. But he isn’t.”
“Then who is my Papa?” Lauren asked.
“Your Papa went away, just as my Papa did.”
“Did you know my Papa?” Lauren asked.
“No,” Janette replied. “But then I didn’t know my Papa either.”
“Then why are we sisters? How do we know that?”
“Because we have the same mother,” Janette said.
“Did you know her?”
“Yes, darling,” Janette said.
“Why didn’t I know her?” Lauren asked.
“She had an accident when you were still a baby,” Janette answered.
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” the child asked. “Like our Papas?”
“Yes,” Janette said gently. She kissed Lauren’s cheek. “But that’s nothing to worry about. We have each other.”
Lauren pulled back and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “Was our mother a nice lady?”
“Very nice.”
“Was she beautiful?”
“She was one of the most beautiful ladies in Paris,” Janette said. “She loved you very much.”
“Did she love you too?”
Janette nodded slowly. “Yes.”
Lauren thought for a moment. “I’m sorry I didn’t know her. Someday I would like to have a Mama.”
Janette was silent.
The child looked up into Janette’s eyes. “Do you think you could be my Mama?”
“How could I be? I can’t be your sister and your mother all at the same time.”
“I don’t mean for real, Janette,” the child said quickly. “I mean play mother. Just sometimes when the two of us are alone. We won’t tell anybody. Even if it’s just pretend it would be nice to have a Mama.”
Janette thought for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. But it’s just pretend, remember?”
A radiant smile broke across Lauren’s face and she threw her arms around Janette, kissing her cheek. “Thank you,” she said.
Janette hugged her tightly for a moment, then let her go. “Okay, baby,” she said. “Now off to bed with you.”
Lauren kissed her again. “Good night, Mama,” she said and ran from the room.
She turned back to the mirror and finished drying her hair, then brushed it and dressed slowly. It wasn’t until she was on the staircase that she suddenly realized that she had automatically put on the black brassiere and panties that Maurice always wanted her to wear.
He was standing behind the library door when she opened it and did not see him until she closed the door. Before she had a chance to speak, he slapped her viciously on the cheek, knocking her backward to the floor, her skirt flying up over her hips.
He stood over her for a moment, staring down at her, then abruptly thrust his hand between her legs. The black panties were soaked with moisture. He squeezed her pubis in a viselike grip, watching the pain contort her face as more moisture flooded into his hand. “Whore!” he said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. He straightened up and prodded her with the tip of his pointed shoe. “Whore!”
She stared up at him silently as he walked away and sat down on a couch facing her. She took a deep breath and got to her feet. She could feel her legs still trembling.
“Bitch!” he said in a normal tone of voice. “What kind of games are you playing with me?”
Her voice was almost dull. “I’m not playing any games.”
“I’ve made all the arrangements for America,” he said. “And now I hear you’re not going.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said.
“You’ve changed your mind?” he echoed mockingly. “I thought you wanted to learn something more about your business.”
“I’m bored with it,” she said. “Why should I work? It does all right. I have enough money.”
“And you’re willing to let that Nazi continue to bleed you?”
She didn’t answer. Instead she turned and walked to the sideboard near the fireplace. She poured some pastis into a glass and added the water, shaking it gently until a milky-white cloud filled the glass. She sipped it slowly, turning back to him, feeling her strength return. “I’m just not interested that’s all,” she said.
He moved quickly, the glass went flying from her hand almost before she realized he was upon her. She turned her face, trying to avoid being hit again, but not quickly enough. She crashed to the floor in front of the fireplace. Through pain-filled eyes she saw him approaching.
She rolled over and grabbed a small iron poker from the stand. Gripping it with both hands, she rolled away from him to her feet. Wildly, she swung at him.
He spring out of the way just in time and the poker flailed through the empty air. He stared at her, almost in shock at the raw nature of her violence.
She spat the words at him. “You touch me again and I’ll finish what my mother started!”
“You’re crazy!” he said. “Just like she was!”
“Get out!” she screamed, moving toward him. “Get out!”
He fled toward the door and turned, looking back at her, his hand on the doorknob. “Listen to me,” he said. “I was only trying to keep you from losing everything.”
“I’ll take care of myself,” she said. “Just keep away from me, this house, and my sister or I’ll kill you! Now, get out!”
“Someday you’ll be on your knees begging for my help,” he said, slamming the door behind him.
She stared at the closed door for a moment, then her legs gave way and she slumped onto the couch, the poker falling to the floor from her hand. She closed her eyes, giving into the pulsing waves of heat surging from her loins. Almost automatically she slipped her hand inside her panties. An orgasm swept through her almost as soon as her fingers touched her moist, swollen clitoris. “Oh, God!” she exclaimed, then turning face down on the couch and burying her head in the arms, began to cry.
Heidi saw him standing just beyond the railing as she approached the police at immigration. She waved to him as she pushed her passport through the narrow window. He smiled and waved back. It wasn’t until then that she noticed the small bouquet of flowers he held in his other hand. The policeman pounded her passport with his stamp and pushed it back to her. She took it and almost ran as she came through the railing.
For a moment they paused awkwardly, looking at each other, then he proffered the bouquet almost shyly. She took it, then looked up into his face and went into his arms.
His voice was husky as he whispered into her ear. “Until this moment I was afraid you would not come.”
Her voice trembled between laughter and tears. “Until you called, I was afraid you’d never ask me.”
They drew apart. She looked down at the bouquet. “The flowers are beautiful. You didn’t have to.”
He laughed as he reached for the small valise she was carrying. “Come, let’s get the rest of your baggage.”
Traffic moved slowly on the autoroute leading from Orly into Paris. “It’s still the morning rush hour,” he explained.
“I don’t mind,” she said.
“Did you sleep on the plane?”
“A little,” she said.
“You’ll have a bath once we get home. Then a little rest and you’ll feel better.”
“I feel fine,” she said quickly. “Just excited.”
He laughed. “I hope you weren’t too excited to bring all your papers.”
“I brought them all,” she said.
“Good,” he answered. “I have a friend in the mairie. He said he would rush everything through for us. It shouldn’t take more than ten days.”
“That long?” Her voice echoed her dismay. “In the States it would only take overnight.”
He laughed again. “This is France. Remember?”
She nodded and reached for his arm. “I don’t care. Even if it takes forever. As long as I can be
with you.”
“You’ll be with me,” he said. He glanced at her again. “I had the apartment cleaned and painted, but if it’s not right, you can change anything you want.”
“I’m sure it will be okay,” she said. “After all, it will only be for two years.”
He was silent.
“You meant what you said?” she asked quickly.
He nodded. “I meant it. I think by the time Janette is twenty-one she’ll be only too glad to have me step out.”
She studied his face as he drove. “You’re not upset over it, are you?”
“Not really,” he said. “The only thing that disturbs me is the little one. Lauren. I will have to find a way to see that she is protected.”
“You have two years to work that out,” she said. “And I’m sure you
will.” She paused for a moment. “I’m looking forward to meeting Janette.”
He laughed. “You’ll have to wait another month. Right now she’s in Switzerland at a clinic.”
“Is there anything the matter with her?”
“Nothing,” he said. “She thinks it’s time she looked more like a fashion model.”
“Is she heavy?”
“Not at all,” he said. “But she’s like her mother. She’s a big girl.”
“Children get all sorts of strange ideas,” she said.
He glanced at her. His voice was thoughtful. “Janette is not a child. I don’t think she ever was.”
“Johann is getting married this week,” Jacques said.
“I don’t believe it,” Maurice said, signaling the waiter for another drink. “Anyone I know?”
Jacques shook his head. “None of us know her. She’s American. Her father is supposed to be very rich.”
“Is she young?”
“About thirty, I think. She was in the office the other day. Very attractive. I think her parents are German.”
“What kind of business are they in?” Maurice asked.
Jacques shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“It might be a good idea to find out,” Maurice said. “Johann is not stupid. There might be some connection to his future plans with the companies.”
“I’ll see what I can learn,” Jacques said. “Have you had any luck discovering where Janette is?”
“Zero,” Maurice said. “She just seems to have dropped out of sight. I wonder if anyone knows.”
“Johann knows,” Jacques said confidently. “He’s the only one who isn’t curious. But he’s not saying anything.”
“It may all tie together,” Maurice said. “We’d better keep our eyes open or we may discover the whole thing has gotten away from us.”
“Do you really think we still have a chance?” Jacques asked.
“Maybe more now than before, with Johann getting married. Janette might not like the idea that he has other interests than her own. If she gets the feeling that his concerns lie elsewhere she might turn our way.”
Janette stepped down from the scale and turned to the doctor. “Only four kilos,” she said. “That’s not much.”
Dr. Schindler smiled. “I’m satisfied. That’s a little more than one kilo per week. If we try to do more, we can lose skin tone too rapidly and everything begins to sag.”
“My breasts are sagging already,” she said.
“Are you doing the exercises I gave you?” He clasped his hands in front of his chest and tightened the muscles across his chest so that she could see them moving under his shirt.
“I walk around all day doing them like an idiot,” she said. “I don’t think it’s working.”
“Everything takes time.” He smiled. “We must have patience.” He made some notes on a card. “We have to be very careful so that we don’t build up muscle that would become impossible to take away.”
“Merde.” She fell into the chair opposite his desk. “Another thing. I’m nervous all the time. Edgy.”
He made another note on his card. “I’ll cut down on the injections. From now on only twice a week instead of every other day. You’re not feeling hungry anymore are you?”
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
“That’s good,” he nodded. “I’ll book you for two massages a day, and you increase your swimming from a half hour each session to one hour.”
“It’s all getting very boring,” she said.
He smiled. “We never claimed to be an amusement park, Janette. This is serious business. You come to us for help with a problem and we’re working to solve it as best as we can.”
“It wouldn’t hurt if you provided some amusements in the evening so that people could relax a little.”
“Like what?”
“Films. Music. Something. I don’t know what. Just to take our minds off the dullness of the routine.”
He nodded. “That’s a good thought. We’ll look into it.”
“Patients wouldn’t feel as if they’re in a kind of prison then. After all, how many diet-and-exercise fitness lectures can anyone listen to?”
He laughed. “You’re right. I just never thought of it that way.”
“You would do more business too,” she said. “Especially if you made it seem like fun.”
He nodded and made some more notes on his card. “How do you sleep?”
“Not too well,” she said. “As I told you, I’m edgy.”
“I can give you a pill,” he said. “But one of the possible side effects is that you might retain water, and that would be self-defeating.”
“I’ll manage,” she said, smiling. “Masturbation is the best natural tranquilizer.”
He laughed. “It’s great to be young.” He got to his feet. “You’re doing all right. Just stick with it. It’s only five more weeks.” He walked to his office door with her. “I guarantee that you’ll be pleased.”
“I’ll be happy if my breasts don’t wind up falling down to my belly,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It won’t happen. But even if it should, we have a cure for that too.”
“It’s a matter of routine, Herr Schwebel,” the banker said to Johann, his voice crackling slightly over the long-distance lines from Switzerland. “Madame la Marquise left instructions with us that if we did not hear from her for three years in sequence, we were to contact you for instructions in regard to the property she has placed in our safekeeping.”
Johann was silent for a moment. Not once in all the years had Tanya ever mentioned that she had property or anything at all in a Swiss bank. “Do you have any idea of the nature of the property?” he asked, circumspect with his use of language over the telephone, even though they were speaking in German, because one could never be sure who was listening in to the line.
“Not of the contents,” the banker replied. “As far as we are concerned it consists solely of six large safe-deposit boxes leased by the marquise in 1944 for a period of twenty years. The rental fees were paid in advance.”
“I see,” Johann said thoughtfully. 1944. That was the year they moved to Switzerland. “So there is no urgent problem at the moment?”
“None,” the banker said. “As I said, this is purely routine. We are only following instructions.”
“Do you have a duplicate key?” Johann asked.
“No,” the banker answered. “Madame had the only key.”
“You know, of course, that Madame is dead?”
“Yes,” the banker said. “But again following orders, we did not contact you until the time requested.”
“Of course,” Johann said. Bankers were all alike. The routine was more important than the fact. “Let me go through Madame’s papers again and see if she left any specific instructions regarding this matter and I will get back to you.”
“Thank you, Herr von Schwebel,” the banker said.
Johann smiled to himself. Now that the banker was sure that he was in charge, he had been elevated from plain Herr Schwebel to Herr von Schwebel. Money and authority were an irrefuta
ble combination. “I plan to be in Switzerland in a few weeks,” he said. “Perhaps we could meet then to further discuss the matter.”
“I am at your disposal, Herr von Schwebel,” the banker said. “Meanwhile if I could impose on you to write us a letter acknowledging that we have contacted you in accordance with our instructions it would keep our records in order.”
“I will dispatch the letter immediately,” Johann said. They exchanged polite goodbyes and Johann returned the telephone to its cradle. He stared down at the notes he had made on his scratch pad. All the information was there. The bank, the banker’s name. Everything. Abruptly he tore the page from his pad and tucked it carefully into his wallet. Then he tore the five pages of the scratch pad beneath the one he had written on and crumpled them into the wastebasket. He started to call for his secretary to dictate the letter to the banker, then changed his mind. He would write the letter himself and mail it from home. He would also request that the banker contact him at home after this. There was no point in leaving any hints about this anywhere near the office.
He glanced at his watch. Heidi should have returned to the apartment by now. Like any prospective bride, she had been out shopping for her wedding dress. A dress, she had emphasized carefully, not a gown. She answered the telephone.
“Did you find anything?” he asked.
Her voice was excited. “Yes. It’s beautiful.”
“Where?”
“Maggy Rouff,” she said. “And I got a twenty percent discount for the trade, because I mentioned your name.”
He laughed. “Marvelous. When can I see it?”
“Not before the wedding,” she said. “It’s bad luck for a groom to see the bride in her wedding dress before that.”
“Okay. I’ll wait then,” he said. “Have you heard from your father?”
“Just a few minutes ago,” she said. “He’ll be here for the wedding.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
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