“What do you mean?”
“Just that. Now and then. The way I live, I gotta watch where I step, and that’s part of it.”
She smiled at him and for a moment it looked half like a frown, but then she shook her head and said, “It sounds too much like running, Jesso. I don’t run any more. I just look and see what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“You,” she said, and she gave him a kiss so that the peasant woman across the aisle made a movement as if she were thinking of crossing herself.
After the local from Bad Brunn they took the through train back to Hannover. They had a compartment and during the warm afternoon Renette slept. Jesso sat by and smoked. He had started to smoke too much. It had started right after deciding to go back to Kator, not to wait any more, because the longer he waited, the more unfinished the business was. He wished Renette would wake up and talk to him. About Kator, for instance. There were a lot of things he might learn about Kator.
He went to the club car, had a drink, and came back. Renette was awake. Her clothes were all over one seat and Jesso could hear the shower behind the door of the tiny bathroom. Then it stopped.
“Jesso?” she called.
“None but.”
“Dry me, Jesso.”
She came out as she was, holding her hair up.
“The big towel,” she said. “See it?”
He saw it. He got the towel and dried her.
“My back red yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Harder, Jesso.”
She turned for him and after a while she was dry. She lay down on the wall bed and after she stretched she said, “It feels good.”
“You look good.”
“So do you.”
“That’s because I’m dressed,” he said.
“No. Because I’m undressed,” she said, and when he started to get up and come to the bed she said, “No. Stay there, Jesso. Stay there a while longer.”
He sat down and grinned at her.
“Talk to me,” she said.
He played the game and talked.
“Nice weather,” he said. “Looks good on your thigh, that sun there.”
She moved her leg and smiled.
“Say something else. Just as brilliant.”
“Well, like Helmut would say, how about love?”
“Helmut would,” she said. “He always talks about love, one form or another.”
“How did that creep ever get to you, Renette?”
“He never did. We’re just married.”
“Was that another one of Kator’s plans?”
“Yes,” she said, and there was no feeling in it. “It worked, too.”
“What’s von Lohe got that Kator wants?”
“Position. A special kind of position. I don’t know if you knew it, but Johannes has a title, too. But it’s out of touch. Poor and very secluded. The von Lohes know a different set, the industrialists, the families who got rich under the Nazis.”
“Nice friends.”
She shrugged and stretched her arms over her head.
Jesso had a hard time listening right then.
“Not nice, but Kator needs them. And Helmut can help with the introductions. Like the Zimmer matter.”
“Who?”
“Zimmer. I thought you might know.”
“What’s Zimmer?”
“Oh, an industrial combine. One family runs it. They have holdings or plants all over the world, and that’s what interests Johannes.”
“In America too?”
“There too. Why are you interested?”
He thought he might be, but when she asked him she rolled on her stomach, which was a beautiful movement, and Jesso didn’t feel any interest in plants or Zimmers. He went over to the bed and ran his hand down her spine.
“Now I’m hungry,” she said, and she jumped up from the bed. He let her jump and watched her dress. There was time. She wanted to eat in the diner, and after that they sat in the club car instead of in the compartment, and that wasn’t bad either. Jesso had never seen her except alone or at von Lohe’s place, and she was good to watch anyplace. When they went back to the compartment it was almost dark, which was all right with Jesso, but as soon as he had the door shut the conductor came through the corridor calling something or other. He went by and kept calling.
“What’s he want?”
Renette smiled, sat down by the window, and said, “Hannover Station, fifteen minutes,” and then she cocked her head at Jesso, and he thought that if she had known the expression she would have said, “So do me something; go ahead.”
“So you’re safe,” he said, and they both had a laugh.
It changed by the time they were in the taxi. The thought of Kator had started to irritate him, his beef and the stance like a Buddha and the mind like a machine. When they passed the intersection where he had left the ambulance he saw it was still there, with more parking tickets. But even that didn’t amuse him. For once he wasn’t eager to see Kator or to think out the next step before Kator took it. Jesso leaned back in the seat and put his arm around Renette. She leaned, took his other hand, but he sat up again, watching the traffic.
The row of villas had dots of light all along, but the von Lohe place was lit up as if for a coronation. Jesso paid the cab driver and took Renette up the drive. They carried no suitcases. They passed long cars all the way up and Hofer was at the open door, ready with a guest book.
“Evening, Hofer. Don’t bother. We’re not seeing anybody.”
That shindig wasn’t for him, anyway, so Jesso turned to the stairs. Kator could wait. Renette was ahead of him, but then she stopped on the stairs.
“Up with you,” said Jesso.
“He wants you, I think,” and she nodded toward the hall.
Jesso turned and saw Kator. He hadn’t heard the sharp little steps because of the party noises.
“I’ve been expecting you, Jesso.”
That bastard had gall. Not a hair out of place, soup and fish as if they had been invented for him, and looking cool as ice.
“So you got what you wanted.”
“Hardly,” Kator said. He made a stiff smile.
“And that’s the way it’ll be till you start playing it my way.”
“You’re not complaining, are you, Jesso? It paid well.”
“And I’m keeping it.”
“The wages of war,” Kator said, bowing briefly.
Jesso turned to go but Renette hadn’t moved yet. She started to go when Kator stopped her.
“After you have changed, Renette, please see me in my study.”
“She’s going upstairs,” Jesso said.
“Naturally. And after she has changed-”
“Why, Johannes?”
