A Fine and Private Place (11 page)

“Peter!” he cried in a rage.

Ennis, startled, looked around. “Yes, sir?”

“Come here!”

Ennis jumped up. “What's the matter?”

“I said come here!”

“What's wrong, Mr. Importuna?”

“This shelf—these books here—” He was almost unable to articulate.

“Books? What about them? They look perfectly all right to me.”

“They are
not
perfectly all right! These three—this—
this
—
this
!—they were standing on the shelf
upside down
. Weren't they? Well, weren't they!”

Ennis stammered, “If you say so, Mr. Importuna—”

“You know they were!” the tycoon thundered. “Why didn't you let them alone? You were the one who turned them right side up again, weren't you, Peter? Weren't you?”

“If those were the ones, Mr. Importuna. Wait, I remember now. I really didn't stop to identify the titles. I saw some books standing on the shelf upside down and I naturally righted them.”

“What do you mean ‘naturally'? There's nothing natural about it! Why did you do it?”

“Well, because—”

“Don't you remember my specifically ordering you not to lay a finger on
any
of the books on this particular shelf?”

Ennis was extremely pale. “I'm sorry, Mr. Importuna, I forgot. Or mistook the shelf. Anyway, all I did was—”

“All you did,” stormed Nino Importuna, snatching the three books from the shelf and slamming them back into place upside down, “was something you don't begin to understand! No wonder the Ploesti deal blew up. From now on, Peter, when I say don't touch something,
don't touch it
. Do you understand? Hand me the direct line to the office.”

Ennis ran to the table, ignored the telephone console, snatched up the red phone, and ran back with it to Importuna.

“Get me Crabshawe … John! Importuna. Call a meeting of the staff. Immediately. And arrange for a transocean conference call among ourselves, Bucharest, and Von Slonem.… I
know
the Ploesti deal fell through, John! But now I also know why, and I think it can be saved. I'm going to make them a new offer I guarantee they won't turn down.… Yes. I'll be with you in exactly”—he glanced at his watch, and he actually smiled—“exactly 9 minutes.” He hung up and Ennis took the instrument from him. “The car, Peter.”

“I've already alerted McCoombes. He'll have the car out front by the time you get downstairs, Mr. Importuna. Is there anything you want me to do meanwhile?”

“No, we'll finish up here tomorrow morning. Just take care of the matters I've already noted. And tell Mrs. Importuna I'll let her know later today about this evening. I don't know how long those Rumanians will tie me up.” Importuna showed his great teeth again and tapped Ennis affectionately on the chest. “I'm sorry I shouted at you, Peter. But you got me very upset.”

He seemed in high humor as he strode out.

Ennis sank into Importuna's chair. His hands were shaking, and he grasped the arms of the chair to steady them. His chest itched where Importuna's double finger had tapped it.

Two cool, soft hands slipped over his eyes from behind.

Ennis's hands flew up to hers, trying to detach them. “Virginia. I didn't hear a sound. He may still be here—”

“He's left, darling,” Mrs. Importuna said. “It's all right. I made very sure.”

She came round and sat down on his lap, twining her bare arms about his neck.

“Honey. If Editta, or Crump—”

“I sent Editta out on an errand. She'll be gone for an hour. And Crump's in the pantry with Mrs. Longwell, polishing the silver for our dinner party tonight.”

“You may not have any dinner party tonight. He told me to tell you he'd let you know later today. He may be tied up buying half of Rumania. Are you sure—?”

“Don't be so jittery,” she said, breathing into his ear. “Nobody's going to catch us doing anything naughty. Or are they?”

They embraced with familiar passion in her husband's chair.

“You know something, Peter?” Virginia murmured after a while.

“What, Virgin?”

“I'd like us to make love right here.”

“Here! Where?”

“On Nino's table. He's so stupid about it. Just because it belonged to a Medici. I'll bet it's seen a lot worse.” She laughed and deliberately nipped his ear. “What do you say?”

“Sounds groovy. But give me a rain check, baby. I'm still a little shook up.”

“Oh?” She sat up and regarded him at arm's length. “Something happened?”

“Before he left he almost bit my head off. And you'd never guess what about.”

“You didn't kiss his ring.”

“This isn't funny! A long time ago, he'd told me never to touch any of the books on some shelf or other back there. Hell, I'd forgotten all about it, it seemed so childish. All the damn shelf held were ordinary books. Yesterday I had to come in here for something—Nino wasn't here—and I noticed some books on one of the shelves put in the wrong way. You know, upside down. Well, you know how compulsively neat I am. I turned them right side up without giving it another thought. Practically a reflex. And that was that—I thought. I didn't even recall that that was the taboo shelf.”

“And he noticed?”

“Noticed! He went up through the ceiling. You'd think I'd committed a major crime. He turned them back upside down and practically threatened to skin me alive if I ever disobeyed an order of his again. I had all I could do to keep from laying one on that eagle beak of his, Virgin. It's getting tougher for me by the day. I don't know how much longer I can take this—sucking up to my lord and master so I can catch a glimpse or two of you once in a while!”

“My poor baby …”

“If it didn't mean not seeing you every day, I'd have let him have it long ago and walked out.”

“Darling …”

“Do you suppose he's slipping his cable? Keeping books on a shelf upside down on purpose! I swear, Virgin, since Marco knocked Julio off and hanged himself, Nino's been sliding downhill fast.”

“This book thing,” Virginia said thoughtfully. She jumped off Ennis's lap and went over to the bookshelves, and he followed her. “It must have something to do with those crazy 9s of his, Peter.”

“How could it have?”

“I don't know. But whenever he acts irrational it's somehow involved with his 9s. Are these the ones?”

“That's right.”

She tilted her head, reading the titles upside down. “
The Founding of Byzantium
. Author somebody named MacLister. There's suspense reading for you …
The Defeat of Pompey
, A. Santini. A real thriller … And the third one is
The Original KKK
, by a J. J. Beauregard. Yippee.”

“Wild.”

“I must be wrong, Peter. These can't have anything to do with his 9s. Do you suppose there's a clue in some of these other books on the shelf? Even though they're right side up like a good book should?”

“You mean like
The Landing of the Pilgrims
, honey-bunch? Or—now here's a candidate for the bestseller list if ever I saw one:
Magna Carta at Runnymede
. A real smasheroo. And—hold your breath, baby, this one is a significant lesson for our times—
The Establishment of the Roman Empire
.”

Peter Ennis laughed. He looked around.

Then he picked up Virginia Whyte Importuna and carried her over to the Medici desk.

Seventh and Eighth Months

JULY AND AUGUST, 1967

Maturation proceeds
.

A layer of fatty matter is deposited under the skin whose function is to nourish and protect the fetus during the early part of its coming emergence into the world
.

Ninth Month

LABOR

The redness fades from the skin. Fingernails and toenails are defined. Glandular secretions and excretions prepare the fetus for the changes soon to come
.

The first rhythmic contractions signal the onset of the mother's labor
.

The baby is about to be born
.

Nino was charming, almost delightful, that day. In fact, Virginia had to try a little not to like him. She did not find the exertion excessive; still, there it was.

It was the 9th of September, a day to commemorate, but not only or even principally because it was Nino's 68th birthday. The greater happiness of the day lay in the fact that it was also their fifth wedding anniversary. And their fifth wedding anniversary had a very special significance for Virginia Whyte Importuna (and, by secret extension, Peter Ennis). For it demarcated the time zone specified in their prenuptial agreement, the date before which Virginia Whyte had waived all property and dower rights when she should become Nino Importuna's wife, and after which—if still living with him as his wife—she became his sole heir.

The penthouse had never experienced such traffic. People dropped in throughout the day with gifts and flowers—Virginia's father; executives of Importuna Industries' component corporations based in New York; friends from the jet set; ambassadors and other dignitaries of foreign delegations to the United Nations who found it tactically expedient to remain in Nino Importuna's good graces, especially those representing countries in which Importuna money was invested; colleagues in the fraternity of finance; the never-absent politicos; even the clergy. Messengers deposited overflowing cartons of congratulatory telegrams and cables from Importuna's 10,001 industrial connections at home and overseas.

Virginia was warily impressed, especially since for the first time in their marriage Nino devoted himself wholly to her that day. Several times Peter Ennis reported to him that Mr. E was on the telephone pleading urgency and requesting leave to come to the penthouse, only to be told with a tooth-filled smile that all business “must wait until tomorrow.
Lavoro sempre, ma non oggi
. Today belongs to my wife.” Since Mr. E to her certain knowledge had open sesame to the penthouse day and night, Virginia could scarcely believe her ears.

The callers straggled off toward the end of the afternoon and, as the dinner hour approached, the Importunas were finally alone. This was the moment Virginia had dreaded all day, in spite of the day's aura of felicity. The five-year history of their unattended husband-and-wife encounters had still not inured her to the prospect.

To her surprise he said, “You know, my dear, Peter is still at his desk—much as I'd like to have given him the day off, there were some matters that had to be taken care of. I feel a bit guilty about it, considering the occasion. Would you mind very much if I asked him to join us for dinner?”

“Why, Nino, how thoughtful of you.” Virginia said it at once, in her most detached tone. And how adept we've become, Peter and I, she thought, in pulling the wool over Nino's eyes. It was going to be a strain, of course; it always was when they were
à trois
. But on the other hand to be
à deux
with him was more like suffering a rupture. “Naturally I don't mind. If it would please you.”

“Wouldn't it please you, Virginia?”

Why had he said that? Nino had the uncanniest way of making her feel uneasy. Nothing must go wrong now, she told herself fiercely. I've gone through too much for too long to blow it at the moment of victory.

She shrugged. “It really doesn't matter to me one way or the other.”

“Then I'll ask him.”

She could tell from signs only she could read (she reassured herself) that Peter, too, regarded Nino's sudden invitation as a not unadulterated sugarplum. Nevertheless, they made a civilized threesome at table. César, the chef, a Swiss who specialized in Italian cuisine, had outdone himself making Virginia's favorite dishes; the table wines were impeccable; the champagne flowed. Peter proposed a toast to her husband's birthday (how she hated herself for her hypocrisy, but it was chronic, more like a cancerous agony kept to the level of tolerance by sedation than an open wound) and another to their wedding anniversary, which amused and excited her in its reminder of what loomed ahead, although she maintained her pretense of aloofness with the competence of long practice.

Peter brought forth his gifts. For Importuna's birthday he had unearthed at some sale or other a letter from Gabriele D'Annunzio to his inamorata, Eleonora Duse. It was housed in a large lush ormolu frame embowered in laurel leaves and peeping satyrs, and it included handsome photographs of the poet-soldier and the actress. The letter was dated 1899. Importuna read it aloud to Virginia, translating into pedantic English as he went along. It expounded D'Annunzio's philosophy of passion—“the pleasures of the senses alone give meaning to life.” Importuna was visibly pleased with it—“How clever of you, Peter, to find such a treasure from the year of my birth! I shall have it hung in my den immediately.”

Virginia thought it rather too dangerously clever of Peter, considering its subject matter.

For their anniversary he presented them with a mid-19th century vase of
reticello
glass decorated with swans in
lattimo
. Both Virginia and Nino were fond of Venetian glass, and the penthouse was filled with specimens of the
vetro di trina
or lace glass of which Peter's vase was a relatively recent example; Importuna's collection included rare
reticello
dating back to the 15th century. The industrialist was nevertheless generous in his thanks, and Virginia echoed him what she silently hoped was just the right degree of disengaged warmth.

Then it was her turn. She had given a great deal of thought to her gift; she had commissioned it through an agent in Italy months before. Virginia clapped her hands, and Crump came into the dining room pushing a serving cart with all the aplomb of a five-star general. He brought it to rest at Importuna's chair and sedately retreated. On the cart stood 9 large sealed flagons of exquisite crystal, each monogrammed
NI
in platinum, and each filled with what appeared to be the same colorless liquid.