He said, “All right, we do it the hard way.”
I said, “You can do it any way you like. But don’t expect me to take anything on promise. You don’t mean to let anyone go, me, Lottie, or anyone else.”
“I’m sure he would.”
It was Katerina.
I gave her a hard look. It didn’t ruffle her, so I decided to try something that might.
I said, “Katerina, here, sees herself as Frau Katerina Hitler. You know, of course, that her whole pedigree has been faked? You’re not getting yourself a pure Aryan bride. Take my advice, drop Katerina in the lake and hitch up with Lottie.”
It was all right saying it, but the ache for her was still there, an ache that no aspirin would ever touch. You can’t escape it. You can try and kill it with words, but you hate yourself for it, and your stupid little heart and mind always long for a second chance.
Alois said, “She has proved herself tonight. That is all the pedigree I need.”
If I couldn’t make a dent in Katerina, maybe, I thought, I could in him. A little family trouble might take some attention away from me.
I said, “Pedigrees in this establishment are cheap enough. Professor Vadarci sold you a phoney one years ago after he’d picked you from some orphanage or refugee camp. You’re no more the son of Hitler than I’m the son of Tarzan.”
Alois didn’t even look towards Vadarci. His whip hand went back and I got the full blast across the side of my neck, followed by the single word, “Swine!”
I bit my lip, and then I gave him the second barrel. “You’re nobody’s son. Strictly nobody’s from nowhere. And that poor old mummy out in the hall, pumped full of embalming juice, never came within a hundred miles of being your ever-loving daddy. Why don’t you grow up fast, give up the amateur theatricals, and get yourself a job as a P.T. instructor? A good honest job.”
He heard me through, every word, and I could see Professor Vadarci smiling faintly, confident, because he knew that he had only to show the boy a hoop for him to jump through it like one of Pavlov’s dogs, and Madame Vadarci looking bored, and then I got the whip again in the same place, but this time he said nothing.
As I jerked back in my chair from the blow, Madame Vadarci took her cigar from her mouth and flicked ash on to the floor.
She said, “I am bored with these playactings, and this foolish talk. It will be light soon and our guests must go, or be kept for another day. That would be unwise. Also, Alois, after this, we must move quickly. So ...”
She put the cigar back and gave it a hearty suck, puffed smoke, and fanned it away with her ostrich plumes.
I said, “Fat Mamma’s got a point there.”
The whip flashed out and I took it on the other side of the neck.
“Be respectful, please,” said Alois.
I noticed then that Katerina’s eyes were shining. Not the way I had ever seen them shine before for me. Usually, for me, they were misted, and soft. Now they glittered, hard, bright amethysts; and she was breathing a little quickly so that I could see the press of her breasts against her dress. She was enjoying the whip work, enjoying the whole situation. All this was for her, this excitement, this precipice walking, the promise of a rich future ... and it was really bringing her alive, every sensation double-edged.
Alois said, “All right. We make him speak.” He looked at me. “Move!”
The whip thong half curled itself around my shoulders, biting through the thinness of my shirt. I moved, not too fast, but I moved. It was common sense.
As I went out of the door after Alois, Katerina stood aside for me to pass. For a moment we were very close together. I could have slapped at her, found some words to try and wound her, but I didn’t. She looked at me, through me, and I knew that already I had ceased to exist for her. The shine was still in her eyes and she was deep in the trance that had come upon her at some moment as we had crouched together behind the grille.
They were all in the great domed hallway still. They all turned as I was led in and it was obvious that they had already been alerted that something had gone wrong. Not a word was said by anyone as the two guards took me by the arms and led me to one of the pillars that supported the low sort of cloistered walk that ran right around the hall. I was pushed against the outer side of the pillar. My wrists and ankles were tied, and the ropes taken round the column and fastened. I stood there, my head free and to one side, so that I looked into the centre of the hall where the catafalque was still on its dais, lights blazing. All I could see of its occupant were the soles of a pair of brand new military boots, yellow, unsoiled.
In a ragged half circle to one side of the gilt chairs stood the guests. Manston and the man with the tin leg were at one end, and Manston was watching me with a little frown on his forehead and I knew that already
