Harold Robbins Thriller Collection

by Harold Robbins

  “And he is also,” she said.

  “Have you ever been to Switzerland?” he asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “I know of a lovely small hotel in the mountains not far from Geneva,” he said. “Would you like to go there for our honeymoon? It’s very small and very quiet. And chances are we’ll be the only ones there.”

  “I can’t wait,” she said.

  “I’ll make the reservations then,” he said. “Where would you like to go for dinner?”

  “I thought it would be nice if we ate in tonight,” she said. “After all, you don’t even know if I can cook.”

  “True,” he said. “But then, that never even entered my mind. I was more interested in other things.”

  She laughed. “Well, I can cook too. You’ll see.”

  He put down the telephone. Six large safe-deposit boxes. Since 1944. He closed his eyes trying to remember everything that happened that year but there was nothing he could think of that could lead to their contents. But still, there they were.

  And they had to be valuable enough, and important enough for Tanya to provide for their safekeeping for twenty years. And perhaps the only thing she had never spoken to anyone about, not even to him.

  He took a deep breath. Tomorrow he would go to his bank and take out all her papers again and go through them. Somewhere in them there had to be a clue to what it was all about. And, somewhere, also, there had to be a safe-deposit key.

  “He owns a brewery,” Jacques said.

  “Who?” Maurice was puzzled.

  “Johann’s bride’s father,” Jacques said. “He’s very rich. Mayer’s Breweries in Minneapolis.”

  Maurice was impressed. “Johann did all right by himself. I know of the beer. Twin Cities Beer, it’s called. One of the most popular in the States. I wonder how he came to meet her.”

  “She was married before and divorced. Then she worked for several years as a fashion buyer for one of the Midwest department stores and came here four times a year. His secretary told my secretary that they met at one of Shiki’s fashion shows.”

  “Did he ever do any business with her?”

  Jacques shook his head. “Not that I know of. Shiki does not do well in mid-America.”

  “Well,” Maurice said, “wonders will never cease. Stodgy, dull, boring Johann comes up with an heiress worth more than twenty million dollars.”

  “You’re joking!” Jacques’ voice was incredulous.

  “No, I’m not,” Maurice said.

  “I wonder if Johann knew that when he met her,” Jacques asked.

  Maurice laughed. “It doesn’t matter now.” He took a sip of his drink. “Johann,” he said, shaking his head in wonder.

  “I also heard her father is coming over for the wedding next week,” Jacques said. “Apparently she is his only child, and this will be his first trip to Europe in more than thirty years. Johann reserved a large suite for him at the Georges Cinq.”

  “It’s getting better and better,” Maurice said.

  “I don’t understand,” Jacques said.

  Maurice looked at him. “Johann may be making his own plans. Two more years and Janette is of age. She comes into the business as an owner while he is still only a part trustee and employee. He’s going to do something. I feel it in my bones.” He took another sip of his drink. “I wonder if Janette knows about it.”

  “I don’t know,” Jacques said. “Nobody still knows where she is. I even went over to La Coupole the other night, where her friends hang out. Even Marie-Thérése doesn’t know. And they’ve been inseparable since they were kids at school.”

  “I know about Marie-Thérése,” Maurice said. “And if she doesn’t know, no one does. Still, I would like to know how Janette feels about it.”

  “We’ll just have to wait until she returns,” Jacques said.

  “I suppose so,” Maurice said thoughtfully. “I’m leaving for New York at the end of the week. I’ll be at the Pierre. Keep me informed as to what is happening.”

  Jacques smiled. “Of course. If it’s anything interesting, you’ll be the first to know.”

  The doctor peered over her shoulder at the scale. “Seven kilos,” he said, satisfaction in his voice. “We’re getting there.” He went back to his desk and sat on the edge of it, facing her. “How do you feel?”

  “I don’t like the way I look,” she said.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Even with all the exercise my breasts are sagging even more, and now my buttocks are beginning to droop. And with my face thinner my nose seems to be longer.”

  “It’s only five weeks,” he said. “Your body is still adjusting. Once we get down to the desired weight, we’ll begin working on the other things.”

  “How long will that take?” she asked.

  He picked up his chart and studied it for a moment, then picked up a tape measure. “Take off your bathing suit.”

  She pushed the tight-fitting one-piece suit down over her legs and stepped out of it. He indicated a small platform in the corner of the room and she stepped up on it. Quickly, impersonally, he began to take her measurements, beginning with her neck. Her upper chest under her arms, her breasts at her nipples, each upper arm, her waist, the hip at the top of the pelvic bone, then around the center of her buttocks, her upper and lower thighs, finally her calves and ankles. After each measurement he made a note on his chart. Finally he put the tape and the chart on his desk. Standing directly in front of her, he eyed her critically. “Stretch your arms over your head as far as you can reach, placing your palms together and standing on your toes.”

  Silently she did as he asked. Slowly he walked around her and stopped once again in front of her. She detected nothing in his face except professional judgment. “Now put your arms at your side and stand normally,” he said.

  Again he walked slowly around her. “With your permission I would like to check for muscle tone.”

  She nodded silently.

  His face still impassive, he placed a hand under each armpit, his thumb reaching around to the top of her chest over each breast. Slowly he moved his thumb, raising and lowering her breasts.

  She felt her nipples begin to harden and swell and she laughed nervously.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said quickly. “It’s quite normal.”

  She laughed. “I don’t mind. It’s the most fun I’ve had since I’ve come here.”

  He laughed too, placing an open palm against her stomach. “Try to tighten your muscle as much as you can and press against my hand.” After a moment, he spoke again. “That’s fine. Now do the same thing with each buttock as I place my hand on it.”

  He walked behind her and she felt the palm of his hand against her and tightened the muscle. Then she felt his finger under her buttock against her thigh; slowly he raised the buttock upward. After a moment he repeated the process with the other buttock. Then he was finished and went back behind his desk and sat down. “You can put on your bathing suit again.”

  She slipped into her suit and approached the desk. “What do you think, Doctor?”

  He finished making some notes on the chart and looked up at her. “Sit down,” he said.

  “Anything wrong?” she asked quickly as she sat down.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said reassuringly. “We’re accomplishing everything that we started to do. It’s just that at this stage of the game we have to explore some options that are open to us.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  He leaned back in his chair, his voice almost professional. “What we are attempting here is almost a complete restructuring of your body. By nature you are one way and we are changing that into a more satisfactory mode. Much of the success we can achieve depends on the ability of your body to adjust to the new demands we make upon it. We train certain muscles to do more and compensate for others. Sometimes this does not happen as quickly as we would like, sometimes it does not happen at all, the muscles th
emselves are not capable of the demands we make on them. We are now at a point where we have to decide how far we want to go.”

  “Are you telling me that I can’t compensate for the loss of weight?” she asked.

  “I’m not saying that,” he said. “I’m sure that your muscles can. But it will take time. The muscles will have to be developed over a period of several years before we can achieve the optimum results you desire.” He glanced down at his chart. “At this point in time you have achieved seventy percent of the weight loss targeted and your measurements vary from eight to fourteen percent less on various portions of you anatomy than when you came in here. All of this is most satisfactory and I feel at this time that we should not try to go further in either weight loss or size reduction. I am, however, concerned about compensating appearance factors. Despite the exercises and treatments, the muscles are not responding as rapidly as we would like to the demands made. So I think we should consider other options available to us.”

  “What options?” she asked.

  “Minor corrective surgery,” he said. “It would save years of work on your part and would accomplish what you desire immediately.”

  “But there would be scars,” she said quickly.

  “Tiny ones,” he said. “And they would be invisible unless someone searched for them. We do the work in natural folds and creases of the body so that they are completely concealed.”

  “Are there any side effects or chances that it would not work?”

  “We have techniques developed during the war. So far, in more than a thousand patients we have treated, there have been no problems.”

  “How much time does the whole thing take?” she asked.

  “The surgery itself is minimal. The recovery time is two weeks before you can resume normal activities. The scars themselves will become normal, that is, blended into your skin, in approximately three months. But since all of them are generally covered by clothing, that’s no real problem.”

  “And if I decide to have my nose done?”

  “At the most two weeks, and all the swelling and other sings will be gone, leaving no evidence at all.”

  She sat there quietly for a moment.

  “Why don’t you think about it?” he suggested. “There’s no rush to make a decision.”

  She looked at him. “Yes there is,” she said in a firm voice. “I’ve already made up my mind. We’ll do the surgery.”

  He stared at her. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “When can it be done?”

  “I’ll get in touch with the surgeon,” he said. “He’ll have to examine you himself first. After that, we’ll try to schedule you as soon as possible.”

  He stared at the door after she left his office and then reached for the telephone to call the surgeon. While he waited for him to come to the telephone he found himself thinking about her. There was a drive and sense of power in the girl. She was only nineteen and he felt it was not vanity that had pushed her into this procedure as it was with his other patients. They were generally older and wanted to be younger. Her motivation went deeper than just that. She was creating a new image with a purpose in mind. What the purpose was he did not know. But whatever it was, it was strong enough to make her want to change her whole life.

  Henri opened the door. “Monsieur Schwebel,” he bowed. “Please come in.”

  Johann let Heidi precede him, then followed her through the door. “My dear, this is Henri,” he said, introducing them. “Henri, my fiancée, Mademoiselle Mayer.”

  Henri bowed. “Enchanté, Mademoiselle. Félicitations.”

  “Thank you, Henri,” Heidi said.

  The butler turned to Johann. “I have all the boxes in the library. We brought them up from the basement. I also had the desk cleared for you.”

  “Thank you,” Johann said. Perhaps what he sought would be here. There was nothing in the company records that had been kept in the bank vaults.

  They had begun to follow Henri to the library when the small voice came from the staircase. “Uncle Johann!”

  “Mein Schatzi!” There was genuine pleasure in Johann’s voice as he turned and the child flew across the room, leaping into his arms. “I thought you would be in bed already,” he said, kissing her cheeks.

  “Nanny told me you were coming, so I waited up,” Lauren said. She turned to look at Heidi. “Is she going to be my new aunt?”

  Johann laughed. “Yes.”

  “She’s very pretty,” Lauren said seriously. “What’s her name?”

  “Heidi.”

  The child looked at her. “May I call you Aunt Heidi?”

  Heidi smiled, holding out her arms for the child. “Of course, darling.” She took the child from Johann and held her tightly. “You’re very pretty too, Lauren.”

  “You smell nice,” Lauren said. “Will you come to visit me?”

  “If you like,” Heidi answered.

  “When?”

  Heidi laughed. “Whenever you want.”

  “That’s good,” the child said. “It’s very lonely here now that Janette has gone away to school again.” She turned in Heidi’s arms, looking at Johann. “When is Janette coming back?”

  “In a few weeks.”

  “How long is that? More than two days?”

  “More than two days, darling,” Johann said.

  “Oh.” The disappointment was evident. She turned back to Heidi. “Janette is my big sister. Sometimes we play that she’s my mother. Just pretend. We have no mother.”

  Heidi was silent. She had all she could to do keep tears from welling into her eyes. She hugged the child closer while looking at Johann. “Perhaps I can come and play with you until your sister returns.”

  “That would be nice,” the child said. She looked at Johann. “Would it be all right if I showed Aunt Heidi my room and my toys?”

  “I’m sure it would,” Johann said.

  Lauren slipped out of Heidi’s arms and, taking her by the hand, led her to the stairway. Johann stood there watching them go up the steps, then turned and went into the library.

  It was over an hour later that Johann rose wearily from the floor where he had been kneeling as he meticulously went through each of the packing cases spread before him. Nothing. They were all personal articles. Mostly clothing. Several sets of toilet articles, brushes, combs, some valueless costume jewelry. Shoes. No papers, no notebooks, no diaries. Nothing to indicate that Tanya had kept any records other than those that he had already obtained from the company’s bank vaults. He pressed the call button for the servant.

  Henri came through the door. “Oui, Monsieur?”

  “I’m finished with them.” Johann indicated the boxes. “You can sent them back downstairs.”

  Henri nodded. “Would Monsieur care for a drink?”

  “A good idea,” Johann said. “Cognac, please. Is my fiancée still with the child?”

  Henri smiled. “Yes, sir. I went by her room a moment ago. Lauren has all her toys all over the floor and they are sitting together looking at each one of them.” He went to the sideboard and returned with a cognac. “C’est triste, Monsieur,” he said. “The child needs someone. And she has no one.”

  Johann sipped at the cognac. “What about Janette?”

  Henri shook his head. “It’s not the same thing. A mother is a mother. That’s what the child needs. That’s what she really wants.”

  Johann nodded heavily. “I suppose so.”

  “Perhaps when the little one is old enough to go away to school, it will be better for her,” the butler said.

  “Perhaps.” The servant left the room and Johann sank into a chair thoughtfully. He sipped the cognac. Suddenly a picture leaped before his eyes. The two of them standing there. Lauren in Heidi’s arms. How much alike they looked. Both blond, both fair, both blue-eyed. They could almost be mother and daughter. He shook his head. It really wasn’t fair. Life never organized itself in a reasonable fashion. Everything was always fucked up.

&nb
sp; He finished his drink and went up the stairs to the child’s room. The two of them were still sitting on the floor surrounded by the toys and stuffed animals. “What’s happening?” he smiled.

  Heidi looked up at him. “Lauren has been introducing me to her menagerie. The lions are her favorites.”

  “Why is that?” he asked the child.

  “Because it was my mommy’s favorite too,” Lauren answered, holding up a small scruffy lion obviously many years old. “This was my mommy’s. Janette told me that she gave it to me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” the child said, holding it out to him. “Touch it. It’s very soft.”

  He took it politely and stroked it. “It is very soft.”

  “I told Lauren that we would take her to lunch on Sunday and then spend the afternoon at the zoo and she could see real lions,” Heidi said.

  “That would be wonderful,” the child said happily.

  “Yes,” Johann said, still stroking the stuffed animal. Suddenly he stopped and looked down at it. He thought he had felt something inside. He squeezed it. There was something inside. Slowly he turned the toy over in his hands. Underneath the soft matted hair covering its belly there was a series of cross-stitches where it had been opened and then resewed.

  “Would you excuse me a minute?” He went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Quickly he took out his pocketknife and cut a few stitched lose, then probed inside with his fingers. A moment later he held it in his hand. A small safe-deposit key, wrapped in a piece of parchment paper. There were several numbers in tiny letters written on the paper on one side. On the other just four words. Swiss Credit Bank, Geneva.

  He let out his breath. Tanya. In her own way she was still here. Slowly he put the key in his pocket and went back into the bedroom. He put the little stuffed lion on the bed. “I think it’s time you were to sleep,” he said.

  Lauren got to her feet and came toward him. “You won’t forget about Sunday like Aunt Heidi promised?”

  “No, darling,” he said, bending to kiss her. “We won’t forget.”

  She turned back to Heidi. “Would you tuck me in, Aunt Heidi? Like my Mama would if she were here.”