Davidian Report (20 page)

She’d stopped her speech-making and turned to him. “What can we do with her?” He’d never noticed before how small and sharp were her teeth.

He said to Janni, “Get out of here.”

Feather sucked in her breath. “No.” She clutched his arm, shook it. “You can’t let her go. She knows too much.”

He set her aside. “Go on,” he repeated to Janni.

It was as if she couldn’t move, as if the look between them held her frozen. Until Feather thrust forward, pushing a glass to Janni. “Before you go, have a drink.”

Steve cut it viciously away from her hand. It fell to the floor but it didn’t break. The liquid smeared over the rug like blood.

Feather cried sharply, “Why did you do that?” Her mouth was ugly.

He struck her across the ugliness with such force the back of his hand burned. She stood swaying. Her hair was shaken loose from the cord, it dangled against her cheek. He said, “I’m running this show.” He spoke again to Janni. “Get out.” Her dark eyes were wide and empty. He shouted it, “I said, get out!”

It shocked her to her senses. She turned and fled to the windows. Without expression he watched her until she was engulfed by the night.

Feather was whimpering in disbelief, “You’re letting her go.”

He could hear Janni’s faint running footsteps. Only when there was no longer sound did he return his attention to Feather. There was a red welt swelling over her mouth. He said to her, “Pick up that glass.”

She shivered.

He repeated roughly, “Pick up that glass.”

Without looking at him, she bent her knees until she was crouched on the rug. Slowly she picked it up. Her mouth was making little animal sounds. She remained there, crouching, holding it in her hand.

“Put it back on the table.”

As slowly she came to her feet. When she had set it down, she stood by the table immobile. He walked over to her and laid his hand on her thin shoulder. It trembled uncontrollably beneath his touch and his anger surged. He spun her about and shoved her towards the couch. She fell back on the cushions, looking up at him. The pupil’s of her eyes, magnified by her glasses, were distended blackly across the pale irises. The look was of fear but she was excited by her fear.

Later his disgust would rise. For now there was nothing but the anger. “Keep out of my business.”

She shook her head, the pale hair slapping vacantly against her cheeks.

He repeated it, making it clear. “Keep out of my business. When I’m on a job, I do it my way. And no punk is allowed to interfere. Didn’t they tell you that when they put you on me?”

Her bruised mouth hung half open; her eyes didn’t move away from his face.

“I asked you a question.”

She had trouble speaking. “He said … I’d learn … a lot …”

“From me? Or about me? I hope you’ve learned. Just keep out of my way from here on in. I’ve got a job to do and I don’t need you dragging my heels.”

She was trying to say something and he waited. She managed to whisper, “You let her go.”

As he moved towards the couch she cringed back into the cushions. He kept walking until he was standing above her. “Listen, simple. If ever you do get to where you’re running a show, remember this. Don’t ever pull an assassination on your own parlor rug. There’s nothing harder to get rid of than a body.”

He walked out on her with that, still on the hard treads of his anger.

H
E WENT BY THE
path that Janni had taken. No one tried to stop him from leaving. He saw no one as he passed through the quiet gardens, walked around the house and slammed into his car. He got away fast. He was beginning to feel a little sick. If he hadn’t been there, Janni would not have escaped. But Feather hadn’t had the death cup at hand for Janni: she hadn’t expected Janni, only him. Feather hadn’t thought that up on her own, she’d been following higher orders. Someone on his side who didn’t want him around. Or had become too suspicious.

He’d known it when he struck down the glass, not because he’d been afraid Janni would drink from her enemy’s hand, but out of his fury. He’d delayed after only to give Janni a good head start. Let her get away safe. While he handled the trouble. He’d expected trouble but it hadn’t materialized out of the twenty-eight other rooms of the Moritz chateau. That didn’t mean it wasn’t waiting to catch up with him.

Raising his eyes to his rearview mirror, he caught the shadow there. His voice was a threat. “Come on. Who is it?”

“You are being followed. But carefully.”

He knew Janni’s accent. He asked, “What are you doing in my car?” He could take any danger alone, but not with her along.

She flared back at him. “I am hitching. How did you expect me to get back to the city?”

“The way you got up the canyon.”

“This is the way.”

Hidden on the floor in the rear, yes. He’d been careless, he hadn’t thought of looking.

“Yes, you are followed.”

He too had been watching the mirror. “Yes.” The shadow of the lightless car was evident. He was still a couple of turns ahead, no more.

“If you will pull in at the next estate—”

“Don’t tell me my business.”

She tossed out a laugh. “Who taught you?”

She didn’t expect an answer. He said, “Keep your head down. If it’s the girl, we’re all right. She’s a dummy. There could have been others staked out. She was too quick with that drink.”

“She was jealous.” Again the laugh mocked.

He cut his lights before he swung without warning into the drive, silencing the motor. As he ducked out of vision, he undertoned, “She doesn’t give a damn for you or me. She’s a fanatic.”

He hoped this mansion was far enough from the drive and fast enough in sleep not to investigate a stray car. They were silent as the approaching car neared. It sped by. Steve counted a slow twenty before starting his motor again.

Janni said, “It was the girl. She was alone. Unless someone was hiding with her.”

On her way to report failure of the mission. “You took a chance.”

“She did not see me,” she scorned. “I am experienced.”

He let it go, backing without lights.

She told him, “Go in the other direction.”

“I know what I’m doing.” He was curt but she only laughed again. Nearer now. She was a shadow behind his shoulder. He ordered, “Stay down.”

“I am joining you.” She was over the seat as light as blown thistle, not touching him in the transition.

“It is better,” she said complacently. “She is looking for a man not for a man and his girl.” His eyes slanted briefly to her but she was lighting a cigarette. She took one breath of it and passed it into his fingers.

He said, “Thanks.” He didn’t think about her mouth touching it.

She lit one for herself, pushed into the corner and was quiet. Not until they were beyond homes into the silent darkness of the canyon, did he pull off the road.

She cried out, “Why do you stop?” Her eyes pried into the darkness.

He reassured her, “We’re safe,” and said bluntly, “I want to talk to you.”

This time he lit the cigarettes, passed one to her. She shivered a little but he didn’t notice. She didn’t say thanks.

He didn’t know what to say, he’d said it all. He couldn’t knock the information he needed out of her. She couldn’t be cajoled or threatened or tricked. She was too experienced; she’d been tempered in Berlin for too long and too often. For some reason of her own, she would protect Davidian, even to the extent of walking into danger herself.

The cigarettes made a thin fog between them. She said, “You should not have struck her.”

“She needed it.” He said, “Don’t waste any tears on her. She wanted to kill you.”

“I know,” she said simply. “But it was dangerous to strike her.” She turned in the seat to see his face. “Her uncle is a most important man. To the party.”

He hadn’t known it. He didn’t tell her. He boasted, “So am I.”

“He is more important. He is Mr. Moneybags. They need him more than they need you.”

She always knew so much more than he. “Who told you?”

“Everyone knows.”

“Then what made you come barging out to Feather with your big news about me? Did you think it would surprise her?”

“I could not believe she was one of you,” she said. “So stupid. You admit she is stupid.”

“Sure. Stupid. And dangerous.” He went back to the question. Because he must know. “Who told you about Moritz?”

“It is easy to learn these things. There are some of us who keep our eyes and ears open. Some who have escaped once from the terror and who do not wish to be forced to run again. It is wisdom to keep informed.”

Davidian had told her, Davidian, who hung around picking up information in the right spots.

Her eyes glittered in the dark. “When you tell them of me, tell them they will never find all of those who watch them. They may erase me, but I am nothing. They may kill Davidian—but when one of us dies, there are many more who take our place.”

“I’m not going to tell them about you.”

“Why not?” Contempt sat lightly on her lips. “They will be proud of you that you have discovered a new plot. The watchers and the listeners. Perhaps they will decorate you with two red bloody stars, one for Davidian, one for—”

He put rough hands on her arms. Between his teeth he told her, “I’m not trying to kill Davidian. I’m trying to help him. How can I make you believe me?”

He shouldn’t have touched her. He shouldn’t have been with her here in the isolation of the night, his fingers biting into the flesh beneath her red coat, their eyes locked in hate one for the other. Her lips moved but she said nothing. From him without volition came one word, one desolate cry, “Janni!”

And he was holding her to him, so desperately, so close that they were one shadow. “My darling … my darling. …” He whispered it, trying to bring her more close to him, his hands under her coat, after this eternity of time warming themselves again on the fire of her body. Blindly he found her mouth. And he held her, so that the fibers of his suit would be imprinted on her flesh, holding in her the deepest wells of the earth and the sharpest ecstasy of the stars. When he drew away it was so little, only that he might look into the wonder of her face.

She smiled up at him. “Stefan.” Her hand touched his cheek gently. She was not gentle. “Stefan. I have been alone.”

He said, “I love you.” He hadn’t said the words for so long that they were as a strange language. They were good, the old words, the simple words. They were honest. He was not ashamed to say them over, “I love you, Janni.”

“We can be together now.” Her voice was rich as the fruits of the earth. “As you promised we would be.”

He couldn’t lie to her. Not even to quiet his own agony.

She stirred in his arms to see his face. As if she didn’t know what would be there. She cried out, “We can be together now? Stefan, Stefan—”

He whispered again, “My darling … my darling …”

“Stefan.” She hid her face against his arm. She wasn’t made of weakness, after a moment she raised her head. “Take me with you, Stefan. Wherever you go, take me. I can always get a job. I can sell tickets in cheap movies anywhere in the world. No one will know I am with you. I’ll keep out of sight, I will never let them know.”

It was the time to bargain. To ask for Davidian in exchange for a promise of their happiness. A promise he couldn’t keep. He kissed her and knew the flame of her hope. When he put her away, he again lighted cigarettes for both of them. He said, “If I can get this job ticked off—”

She moved in the curve of his arm.

His eyes held on the dark road ahead. “I’m due a vacation. Maybe we could get a car and just take off. See the country. I’d like to show you the country.” He went on just as if she were an innocent who could believe his words. “Texas and New York and Missouri and Cape Cod.”

“As once you promised we would.” She could make believe too. “And we’ll choose the one we like the most and find there a little house—”

“And live on clams or hominy grits or fried chicken—” The dreams a man dreams. He broke off and his voice was like cinders. “Where’s Davidian?”

She regarded the glowing tip of her cigarette for a long, long time. She said, “He’s waiting for me at the Main Street movie.”

He didn’t release his breath. He took another pull at his cigarette, it was burned almost to his fingers but he held on to it. He had to hold on to something. “Alone, Janni. I’ll have to see him alone. You can’t be there.”

She didn’t say anything. She was crying. Janni didn’t cry.

He pitched his cigarette out of the window, took hers from her mouth and threw it away. “Janni—” She came to him but there was no longer hope in her, only the same desperation of passion that had eaten away his heart. He memorized her with his hands and his mouth as if he would never again be permitted to touch her. “Janni. Tomorrow—”

She cried, “Tonight! Take me home with you.”

“I can’t.” It was the final bitterness. “I couldn’t anyway. Reuben—”

She was defeated. “And I am not alone. The old ones are always there.”

“Tomorrow night. I’ll fix it up some way, baby. I’ll be through the job. I’ll come for you early, you can say your aunt is sick—”

She put her hand across her eyes. But she wasn’t crying any longer. “You’ll come, Stefan?”

He said from his deepest heart, “I promise you. There isn’t anyone or anything that will keep me away tomorrow night.” He’d make sure of it. He’d lay the plans so carefully that nothing could take away this one night for them. They deserved one small scrap of life.

She lifted her head. “Take me downtown now, Stefan. I’m late but Joe understands. He believes Reuben is my sweetheart, leaving for overseas duty. Tomorrow night I will wait for you.”

“I’ll come,” he repeated quietly.

There were no other cars that followed the lonely road to Mulholland, dropped down again into the city. He drove in silence; she remained apart, she might be sleeping but she wasn’t asleep. When they reached Spring Street, she said, “Don’t drive to the theater. It’s better I go alone.”

“Yes.” He pulled up to the curb.

She looked into his eyes. But all she said was, “Davidian will be safe?”