Goodbye, Janette

by Harold Robbins

  “I guess it will have to be tonight then,” she said. She looked at him. “But I can’t say late. My daughter’s leaving for school tomorrow and I want to spend some time with her.”

  “You’ll be home by ten o’clock,” he promised.

  The waiter came to the table and placed a calling card in front of her. She glanced down at the German gothic print on the card, then up at the waiter. “The gentlemen who gave you this card,” she asked, her heart suddenly beating rapidly. “Where is he?”

  Still holding the card in her hand, she got out of her seat and almost ran out the door. A taxi was just pulling away from the curb but she could not see who was in it and the street was almost empty. No one she knew was there. She looked down at the card again.

  JOHANN SCHWEBEL

  FINANZEN DIREKTOR

  VON BRENNER GmbH

  Montevideo Munich

  Uruguay F.W.G.

  She turned the card over. Johann’s precise handwriting never changed. “I will be at this number at 0900 tomorrow. Please call me. J.”

  Slowly she walked back into the Relais Plaza. Jacques was standing. “Is there anything wrong?” he asked in a concerned voice.

  “No,” she answered, taking her seat. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just someone I hadn’t seen for a long time and I would have liked to see him again.”

  “An old lover?” Jacques smiled.

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  “Take my advice, my dear,” he said with typical French sagacity. “Never chase an old love. They are never like what you remember when you catch them.”

  She looked at him. Suddenly the information she sought from him wasn’t that important anymore. “Look,” she said. “I’ve thought it over. Let’s skip tonight. I think it’s really more important that I spend the evening with my daughter.”

  ***

  It was slightly after seven o’clock when she arrived home. Henri opened the door. “Bon soir, Madame.”

  “Bon soir, Henry,” she said. “Any messages?”

  “No, Madame,” he said. “But Monsieur le Marquis is already at home.”

  She nodded. “And Janette?”

  “She is in her room, Madame.” he paused for a moment. “What time would Madame like dinner?”

  “Eight thirty,” she said, starting up the staircase. She walked down the corridor and stopped in front of Janette’s room. Quietly she knocked on the door.

  Janette opened it. She smiled. “Maman!”

  Tanya leaned forward and kissed her daughter, then followed her into the room. Quickly her eyes took in the closed valises standing near the door. “You’re all packed?”

  “Ready to go,” Janette said. “Seven o’clock in the morning.”

  Tanya smiled. “Anxious to get back to school?”

  “In a way,” Janette answered. “Truth is, I’m getting tired of vacation. There’s nothing really much to do around Paris in the summer. Most of the girls were away.”

  “Maybe next summer I won’t be so tied up. Then we can go away too.”

  “Maybe,” Janette said. “By the way, I forgot to tell you. Maurice came home early. He was looking for you. He told me to tell you it was very important that you speak to him right away.”

  “Okay,” Tanya said. “I told Henri to have dinner ready at eight thirty. Is that all right?”

  “It is with me,” Janette said. She looked at her mother. “Just the two of us? Or is Maurice eating with us too?”

  “Just the two of us if that’s what you want,” Tanya said.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Just the two of us then,” Tanya said. She stared from the room. “I’ll call you when it’s time.”

  She walked down to the other side of the hallway and stopped in front of Maurice’s door. She knocked, and at the muffled sound of his voice coming through the closed door, went into the room.

  Maurice was sitting in a lounge chair, a half-empty cognac snifter in his hand. He stared up at her balefully without getting up. “Where the hell have you been all afternoon?”

  She ignored his question. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Whose prick were you sucking this afternoon?” His words were slurred.

  “If I were,” she answered, “it wouldn’t matter to you anyway. It would be someone who definitely wasn’t your type. Now, you either have something important to tell me or you haven’t. If not, let me go and take my bath.”

  His voice was angry. “You’ll never guess who called today.”

  Suddenly she knew. Even without his telling. She was silent.

  “Johann Schwebel,” he snapped. He studied her face. It was expressionless. “Aren’t you surprised?”

  “Should I be?” she asked ingenuously.

  “Maybe that’s the wrong word,” he said. “Concerned should be more like it.”

  “I see no reason for that either,” she said. “We’ve kept the books honestly. Wolfgang’s share is intact.”

  “You’re stupid,” he snarled. “What if they want to take over? Take everything back? Then where will we be?”

  “Did he say that?” she asked.

  “No. He merely wanted to arrange an appointment with the two of us. I told him to call back tomorrow at eleven o’clock.”

  She looked at him. His face was flushed with liquor and she knew that he never drank that much in the daytime unless he was upset. “You could have called him back and made an appointment.”

  “He said he would be moving around too much and would call us.”

  She nodded. “That’s possible. After all, we don’t know what other business he has in Paris.” Johann had to have a reason for what he did. He knew about the call at eleven, yet he had asked her to call him at nine. She started from the room. “At any rate we’ll know more tomorrow.”

  He rose to his feet. “I was only waiting to give you the news. I’m going out to dinner. Will you be using the car?”

  “No. Take it,” she said. “I’m having dinner in tonight with Janette.”

  ***

  Johann came out of the Georges Cinqu and waited for a taxi. Paris. It never changed. Not even in all the years since the war. Like the French themselves. Selfish, expedient, demanding, egotistical. Standing there saying, Look at me. Am I not beautiful? The most beautiful in the world? And the trouble was that it was the truth. The truth, if you had the price to pay for it.

  The doorman opened the door of the taxi, managing to pocket the five-franc coin and tip his hat all at the same time. Johann gave the driver the address, then settled back into the seat and took a folder out of his briefcase and opened it.

  Inside were credit reports gathered for him by his bank on the French companies. He glanced at the top sheet.

  Eau de la Vie Minérale S.A. Mng. Dir. Marquis de la Beauville. Product, bottled mineral water sold in 1 liter bottles, principally to small hotels and restaurants, very few retail outlets. Mgnt. pursues noncompetitive policy, no advt., depending on price (30% to 40% less than Evian, Vittel, etc.) for sales. Est. avg. gross 3 yrs. F. 10M; net, F. 1,5M. Est. value, property and plants, equipment and inventory, F. 45M. No record or est. available on acct’s rec. or debt. Est. C.O.H. on deposit F. 40M. All bills pd. pmpty, 10 to 30 days. Credit rating, AAAA to F. 25M.

  He slipped the top sheet under the others and began to read the second report.

  Domaine Marquis de la Beauville S.A. Mng. Dir. Marquis de la Beauville. Product, mid-range quality wines, champagne, cognac sold in quantity (bbls) to other vineyards and bottlers. No retail sales or labels established. Est. avg. gross 3 yrs. F. 125M; net, F. 25M. Est. value, property and plants, equipment and inventory, F. 400M. No record or est. available on acct’s rec. or debt. Est. C.O.H. on deposit F. 250M to F. 325M. All bills pd. pmpty, 10 to 30 days. Credit rating, AAAA to F. 200M.

  He reached for a cigarette, lit it and turned to the last report.

  Parfum Tanya S.A. Mng. Dir. Marquis de la Beauville. Product, perfumes, colognes, perfume bases, sc
ents, sold in bulk to various companies for bottling and incorporation into cosmetics under their own label. No retail sales or labels established. Est. value, property and plants, equipment and inventory, F. 110M. Est. avg. gross sales, F. 100M, net, F. 45M. No record or est. available on acct’s rec. or debt. Est. C.O.H. on deposit F. 350M to F. 400M. All bills pd. pmpty, 10 to 30 days. Credit rating, AAAA to F. 100M.

  He closed the folder and stared thoughtfully out the window at the passing traffic. In many ways none of the companies were operated in the typically French manner. For one thing, no French company, large or small, ever paid its bills on time. And no French company ever maintained a cash balance so far in excess of its annual needs. It had to be Tanya. Maurice would never do it. He did some rapid mental calculation. Of course, it was Tanya. The money was there because she was holding it for von Brenner. In that balance was his 50 percent share of the profits.

  The taxi pulled to the curb and he got out. He looked at his watch. Five minutes to nine. He paid the driver and hurried upstairs to the lawyer’s office. His hunch had been right. He was glad that he had asked her to call him there. He had a feeling he should see her before he met with Maurice.

  ***

  He opened the door in answer to the soft knock, then stepped aside to let her walk into the living room of the hotel suite. Slowly he closed the door behind him and turned to look at her. For a long moment they looked silently at each other; then he cleared his throat. “Old friends should not meet each other in restaurants or in attorneys’ offices.”

  She nodded without speaking. He could see the tears welling into her eyes and felt a choking in his own throat. He held out his hand. She ignored it. Her voice was husky. “Old friends do not merely shake hands.”

  He threw open his arms and she came into them. He kissed her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. She rested her head against his chest. “Dear Johann,” she murmured. “Dear kind good friend.”

  He raised her chin to look into her eyes. “Anna—” He hesitated. “Tanya.”

  “Tanya.” She smiled.

  “I am glad to see you,” he said, nodding his head.

  “It’s been too long,” she said. “Ten years and no word. I thought we’d be in touch long before this.”

  He looked at her, strangely puzzled. He really didn’t understand why she had thought that. “Come,” he said. “Let me get you something to drink.”

  She followed him to the couch and sat down. “I really don’t want anything, thank you.”

  “I’ll order some coffee,” he said, pressing the signal for the room-service waiter. A few minutes later, a cup of coffee in his hand, he nodded, pleased. “Now, tell me about Janette. She must be a big girl now.”

  Tanya smiled. “Sixteen. And she just left for school in Switzerland this morning.”

  “I’m sorry I missed her,” he said. “I would have liked to see her. If she takes after her mother, she has to be beautiful.”

  “She is,” Tanya said. “But in her own fashion, not in mine.”

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here?” Johann asked.

  “Only why it took you so long,” she said. “You’ll find the books in order. And the money in a separate account.”

  “What for? There’s no money owed to the von Brenner Gesellschaft.” Then it all came together in his head. He stared at her with suddenly dawning comprehension. “Wolfgang—” he began, but his voice failed him.

  “That’s it,” she smiled. “I put half the profits in a special account for Wolfgang just as I promised him.”

  His voice was strained and strangely tortured. “You didn’t know?”

  “Know what?” Something in the expression in his eyes reached into her heart with a cold chill. Then she knew. Her clenched fist went to her mouth so that she wouldn’t cry. “Wolfgang is dead. When?”

  He put down the coffee cup with shaking hands. “Ten years. I thought you knew.”

  “I didn’t know.” Her voice reached for control. “How did it happen?”

  “He was killed by the Russians when they came to arrest him. He always said that he would not allow himself to be taken alive and tried as a war criminal. He was never a member of the Nazi party.”

  “He was supposed to be safe in the French sector. How did the Russians get him?”

  “Nobody really knows,” he said. “Apparently he went to a meeting in the Soviet zone.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Maurice knew,” she said. “He knew it all along.”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  She met his eyes. “I do. He knew that if I learned Wolfgang was dead I wouldn’t stay married to him.”

  “And now?”

  “It’s over. I’ll divorce him.”

  “But the companies? Aren’t they in the Beauville estate?”

  She shook her head. “No. I kept them in my name. I had the feeling that if I ever did transfer them, Wolfgang would be the first to be cheated.”

  “That was lucky,” he said. He smiled suddenly. “You’re a rich woman now. Everything. It all belongs to you. You don’t owe anything to anybody. And I think that was what Wolfgang really wanted.”

  “Yes.” She remembered the gold louis in the vault in Switzerland. Even after they had lived there together, he had never asked her to give them to him. Or even place his name on the vault card. He had meant for her to have it all along. She felt the moisture in her eyes. Poor Wolfgang.

  “Are you all right?” Johann asked anxiously.

  She held up her hand. “I’m fine now.” No wonder Maurice was upset at Johann’s call. It was as if the day of reckoning had come. “You started to tell me why you wanted to see me.”

  He nodded. “I know of a company that is interested in buying the wine company for a lot of money. They want to take the company into retail sales.”

  “Should I sell it to them?” she asked.

  “Of course, it’s up to you. But I wouldn’t.”

  “What would you do then?”

  “What they plan to do. And make ten times as much money as the company is making now.”

  “But we deliberately stayed out of the public eye. We thought that the less attention we called to ourselves the better.”

  “That was ten years ago. But now nobody gives a damn.”

  She met his eyes. “I’m pregnant. In March, I’m going to have a baby.”

  Surprise echoed in his voice. “Then you can’t divorce until afterwards.”

  Her voice was strong. “I’m divorcing now. I won’t let a child of mine bear his name. After the divorce I’m going to America to have the baby. The father is American.”

  “Will you marry him?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “But I won’t be able to run the businesses myself. I still need a man in there.”

  He was silent.

  “What about you, Johann?” she asked. “That’s what you did for Wolfgang. And it would not be just a job, you would be a partner.”

  “I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “I might not be the right man for you. Basically I’m an accountant. You need someone more than that.”

  “We can hire anyone else we might need,” she said. “But you can’t buy trust. That only comes with time.”

  ***

  “No!” Maurice’s voice was shrill. He was near hysteria. “I won’t give you a divorce! I worked just as hard to make those companies as you did. You’re not just going to pay me off and throw me out! Just because you know you can keep it all for yourself.”

  “You make me sick,” she said, her voice cold with contempt. She rose from her chair. “Divorce or not, you’re out of the companies.”

  He stared up at her from behind his desk. His voice was quieter now. “It won’t be that easy for you. Under French law a wife’s property automatically comes under her husband’s control. I’ll hang you in court for twenty years. By that time the companies will be worth nothing.”

  “The hell with them! I don’t nee
d them.”

  “You have a lifestyle you’ve become used to,” he said shrewdly. “You won’t be able to afford it anymore. And you’re not as young as you used to be. There are younger, fresher girls around. You’ll still be able to find a man to fuck with you, but you won’t find a man to keep you. When it comes to that, Tanya, you’re over the hill.”

  She looked down at him. “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m saying we can approach this reasonably, calmly. Like two sensible adults, without flying off the handle and destroying ourselves in the process.”

  “And what’s your idea of working this out reasonably?” He took a deep breath. “First, no divorce. We stay married. There’s nothing wrong in that. It works for both of us. Money alone won’t keep you in the world in which you live if you relinquish the title. Tanya, Marquise de la Beauville goes a lot further than Tanya Pojarska, even if you should decide to use your former husband’s title, which at the moment is being used by at least three other people. Polish titles aren’t worth a sou for a dozen in Paris. Do you think that school in Switzerland would have even accepted Janette if it weren’t for the Beauville name?”

  She was silent. He pressed on. “You were prepared to give me twenty-five percent of the total net worth of all the companies in cash. That has to be somewhere between one hundred and one hundred twenty-five million francs. Instead of cash, you quit-claim one company to me; in exchange I will quit-claim the other two to you. That way our property rights will be clear and incontestable. And to show you that I am not greedy, I’ll accept the smallest company of them all. The mineral-water company. Its net worth is far less than the amount you would give me in cash.”

  She stared at him. “What makes you so generous?” she asked skeptically.

  “I’m not generous. Just practical. I need something to work at and something to save face. And I can live comfortably on the company’s earnings. Once that is done, we separate. I go my way, you go yours. And it becomes what it always has been. A marriage of convenience.”

  “Let me think about it,” she said.

  “What is there to think about?” He was more confident now. “At this moment, you’re angry. About many things. Wolfgang. Allowing yourself to become stupidly pregnant.”