Tempting Fate (74 page)

“Do as you think best,” Ragoczy capitulated. “I want to keep her viola. Her books … I will look at them later. Eventually, I suppose, I will come back here. Enzo will take care of it for me.”

“He has asked if you would object to his bringing a wife here.” Roger felt on more secure ground now.

“He may do whatever he wishes. There is more than enough in the caretaking fund to permit him to have half a dozen children about the place…” He stopped, his eyes closing against the torment of what he had said so carelessly.

“I will tell him,” Roger said in a level voice.

“Thank you.” He stared around the entry hall. “Six weeks.”

Roger said nothing.

“For the rest … I will decide later.” He looked at Roger, a knowing, ironic grimace on his lips. “I
will
decide. But not quite yet. I need … rest.”

“Yes.” Roger waited, watching Ragoczy start up the stairs to his bedchamber, which was over the library.

“Roger,” he said over his shoulder, “don’t wake me. I need … time.”

Roger could not bring himself to make any answer.

“And I will want the names of the men who killed her, and where I can find them.” This last was said coldly, with such complete and inexorable condemnation that Roger felt some of the sorrow he shared with Ragoczy answered by this request.

His bedchamber was actually two rooms. The first was more of a sitting room, with a long sofa upholstered in brocaded cloth and an elegant wardrobe opposite a good-sized closet. There were a number of paintings on the walls, one or two obviously the works of masters. Ordinarily the sight of these would provide a moment of pleasure for Ragoczy, but not this morning. He hardly saw the paintings, the little Tibetan statue, or the antique clock that clicked on the far wall.

The second room was smaller, and as austere as the first room was luxurious. Here there was a narrow, hard bed made atop a long chest. One utilitarian chest under the single, small window. Ragoczy pulled off his jacket and folded it, then got out of his trousers. When he was naked, he took a simple black robe from the chest and wrapped it around himself. The thin mattress did not alleviate the hardness of the earth-filled chest beneath it, but Ragoczy did not object: he had slept this way for nearly four thousand years. The force of his native earth was claiming him, and for once he surrendered himself to the stupor that in those of his blood passed for sleep. In less than a minute after he had stretched out and closed his eyes, the suspension had come over him. His breathing was slowed and almost imperceptible, his senses damped and remote.

When his eyes opened again, the room was dark. He lay still for several minutes as he recovered his full awareness. His memory, of the last few days rushed back to him, bringing desolation with it. As he rose, he forced himself to a detached calm. He had things he must do. He went down the hall to the bath and spent the next half-hour in a curiously ritualistic washing. When that was done, he returned to his room and dressed in a black vested wool suit with a white silk shirt under it and a tie of dark red Italian silk. His shoes were thick-soled, to accommodate the lining of native earth. When he was satisfied with his appearance, he left his room and went down the long hall toward the part of the house that had been Laisha’s.

At the door to her chamber, he faltered. Then his calm reexerted itself and he was able to enter, to look around without being filled with agony. That was not gone from him, he knew, and in time it would return with all its miserable strength, but for the time being, he was able to act, to decide.

Roger had been busy during the day, Ragoczy realized as he looked about. Most of Laisha’s things were packed in carefully labeled boxes. Her bed had been stripped and the sheets and blankets were among those items ready to be sent to whatever place Ragoczy designated. He was tempted to open the boxes, to examine the contents, but that would accomplish nothing. He went from box to box, reading what Roger had written and marking each with his instructions. It took him well over two hours to accomplish the entire task, and for that time he did not allow himself to think. Here was a box of jerseys, let the girls’ school have them. Here was a box of riding gear, send it to his housekeeper in Paris, who had a horse-mad niece. Here was a box of lace handkerchiefs and gloves, send them to Irina Ohchenov, who might be able to use them herself, and if she did not, would know of those who would want them.

When at last he left the room, his hands shook and his eyes were sore, but at least it was over. He repeated that to himself as he descended to the main floor and went along to his study.

Most of his possessions were packed away, some to be stored, some ready to be shipped to London. He looked around him as if the room belonged to someone else. He hardly recognized his desk, and the bookcases looked like toothless gums now that they were empty. He did not linger there, but went through the door into his laboratory. The athanor dominated the room, a huge white egg of steel-reinforced ceramic, just as he had described it in his report to Professor Riemen. It was cold, but the gauges that flanked it showed that it was capable of containing great pressure and heat. There was a large number of glass retorts, some of fantastic design. These were all cleaned and set on shelves. Since this room would be doubly-locked when Ragoczy left, he made a last careful check of it, noting the careful arrangement of equipment. He had hoped that he would make a more complete laboratory in London, but that no longer seemed real to him. As he left the room, he set the locks.

He found Roger in the library, putting the more valuable editions into a wall safe. “I don’t want the vandals to find so much, next time,” he remarked as Ragoczy watched him work.

“A wise precaution,” he agreed, staring around the room.

“Do you want any of these shipped to England?” Roger asked, not liking the disturbing tranquility Ragoczy displayed.

“No, I don’t think so.” He walked the length of the room slowly, as if testing it.

“Should we leave the packing to Enzo?” Roger kept a covert eye on Ragoczy.

“If you wish.” He paused in front of the hearth. “I don’t think we’ll go to London just at once. A bit later, perhaps.”

It was no more than Roger had expected, but he still could not help asking, “Why? Your house is waiting for you.”

“No. It was waiting for me and Laisha. In time that will not trouble me as it does now, and then I will go there.” He turned toward Roger. “You don’t approve, do you?”

“Not entirely,” Roger answered carefully.

“Because you fear I will turn morbid? As I did after Ten Chih-Yü was killed?” The careful phrases and perfectly controlled tone said more about his pain than anything else.

“Yes.” He put down the stack of books he had been holding.

“Then we must go somewhere vivacious. I thought perhaps Wien. Waltzes, old friend, and whipped cream with everything.” He knew he could not force himself to laugh, but he made a jeeringly lighthearted gesture.

Roger straightened up and regarded Ragoczy with sadness. “I think it is a mistake.”

Suddenly Ragoczy burst out angrily, “A mistake! Her death was, no doubt, a mistake! Had I left Riemen’s room ten minutes earlier, had I been faster, I might well have found her in time. Fifteen years old, and they killed her as they might have killed a rat or a dog!” He was quiet as swiftly as he had been shouting.

“And Wien will not change that, my master.”

“Very likely not,” Ragoczy agreed urbanely.

“You have already completed arrangements for London.” This was not truly an argument, and both of them knew it. Ragoczy had long since established homes and financial resources in every country in Europe and a fair portion of Asia.

“They will not go to ruin because I take my time getting there,” Ragoczy observed, not permitting himself to bicker with Roger.

“One thing then, my master,” Roger said.

“What is it?”

He busied himself with another pile of books while he phrased his request in his mind. “Do not insist on leaving at once.”

Ragoczy’s smile was singularly unpleasant. “No: I have a few matters to attend to first.”

Again that icy breath touched Roger. “The names?”

“And where I may find them.” He stared at the cold hearth.

“It may take a few days.”

“I am not a patient man.” Ragoczy shook his head. “A hundred years ago, I would have been confident that a month could go by, or two, or a year, and still those I sought would be within my reach. But now, with trains and automobiles and aeroplanes constantly in motion, I am afraid that they will escape me.”

“They will not,” Roger promised him. “You may rely on that.”

“I do, old friend.” There was a slight softening in his expression, and with it came the shadow of grief. “I had such hope for her.”

Roger could not look at Ragoczy at that moment—it was too private, that anguish—and when he looked up again, Ragoczy had left the room and Roger was again alone with the books.

Text of a letter from Maximillian Altbrunnen to his sister, Gudrun Ostneige.

Wolkighügel

June 17, 1926

My dear sister;

I had not realized until this last month what I have imposed upon you and the intolerable burden I have been to you. It has been brought home to me that I have done you a grave injustice and that my actions have come near to compromising you as any that could be done short of selling you into bondage, which would be a shame so enduring that nothing could ever efface that from the records of our family. In compelling you to pay for my extravagances, I see now that I have done that which is without honor and lacking in the pride that is the mark of the Teutonic peoples. It is all well and good for the reprehensible Latins to impose on their relatives and be supported by the only wealth in the family, but among our race, self-sufficiency and family honor must come foremost. We are, after all, descended from those knights who rode to Russia, and when defeated by the barbarian Nevsky, accepted their excommunication with a grateful heart and with understanding. That is what it is to be Deutscher and hochgeborn. Were these times the same as those early days, I would bow my head to the demands of family honor and go into exile. Family honor requires no less of me now, and I acknowledge that with humility. I cannot exile myself, of course, but the honor of the family and the race demand a sacrifice of me, and I will make it gladly.

Let me advise you, my sister, although I have not been much in the way of doing so. Put your trust in Helmut Rauch. He has nothing but the greatest respect for you, and with his background and knowledge, he has the means to guide you, as all women must be guided by a man. I did not see that much of what has been troubling you is the lack of a firm hand that a man would provide, keeping you from the natural waywardness of women. Your appalling dependence on the foreigner Ragoczy would not have occurred if I had known how much you needed my assistance in your work and my greater wisdom in your life. Doubtless you sensed this, but had no way to tell me of it. I see that your modesty held you back, and I, in my blindness, thought that you were merely nagging me because of my way of life: no, I did not comprehend your need to submit to a man’s strong will.

There is little I can leave to you except my regrets. I have bequeathed what little is left of my inheritance to the Thule Bruderschaft. I know you will applaud this decision, for the work of the Thule Bruderschaft overshadows all else in importance. And you need not fear that the Bruderschaft will let you be cast adrift in the world. They will guard you and guide you, even as I should have done. They will keep you from harm and will warn you when there is danger. Their learning is superior and their cause is the most sacred—the preservation of the Teutonic race.

I have left a note for Otto, as well, and he will be charged with the duty of disposing of my body. I would prefer that you not deal with such things, for not only will you be completely overset by my death, it is not a woman’s place to arrange such matters. Otto will do the job properly, and the Thule Bruderschaft will provide the funds for my interment. You are not to concern yourself with it at all. I know that Helmut Rauch will be present to give you comfort and the benefit of his strength. It would please me if you would be willing to marry him. Widowhood is not natural for you, and a man such as Helmut Rauch would care for you as a woman ought to be cared for, with firmness and affection. I have little right to require anything of you, so reprehensible has my conduct been, but if a brother’s dying wish holds any power with you, my dear Gudrun, you will not reject Helmut Rauch if he should so distinguish you by asking your hand.

This is little enough to apologize for the abuse I have heaped upon you, but you must believe that it is sincere.

Your loving brother,

Maximillian

PART IV

Madelaine Roxanne Bertrande de Montalia

Text of a letter from Professor Isidore Riemen to Hermann Göring.

München

July 10, 1926

My Dear Herr Göring:

I confess I was surprised to receive your letter of last week, and more baffled by your questions. I had not known there was so much interest in Graf Ragoczy, or I would have observed him much more closely in the years we have worked together.

Yes, I fully realize that the process he and I have developed could be of great value to our rival nations of Europe, and I am conscious that his lack of alliance does, in some degree, make him a dangerous person to have roaming Europe. However, as I have assured the Board of Directors at Farben, there is little either of us can do at this point. It is true that the process we have developed is successful, but the cost of it is prohibitive. I cannot imagine that a serious application of the methods will be used for some time, due to the expense involved. This has nothing to do with nationalities, Mein Herr, but with finance. Ragoczy himself is quite wealthy, and it was his personal funds that made much of our research possible. I doubt he will wish to invest such sums on a regular basis, since there is not any great chance of a return on them.