Blood Ties (16 page)

Loosening his pants, he let them fall, knowing that his
buttocks would shine strongly in the odd light, providing some wild symbolic
picture of his own contempt for the von Kassels. Kneeling, he guided his
hardness into her, feeling the instant response as her body rose to meet his
and abandoned itself to the instinct of creation. He pounded inside of her
roughly, as if his own body required itself to be completely emptied, like a
vessel filled with some bitter bile that needed to be expelled. His pleasure
came from deep inside of him and even after he climaxed he remained hard inside
of her, although he ceased to move. She quieted slowly, decelerating in sudden
waves of pleasure, her body trembling like a sunken ship that continues to
pulsate with life.

They lay there until he felt the chill on the exposed parts
of his body. She had closed her eyes and he saw big tears slip down over her
cheeks.

"It was necessary," he whispered. "We needed
each other." He had expected her remorse.

She shrugged, wiped her tears and moved him away. Then she
stood up, straightening her dress, while he fixed his pants. She was still
having trouble with her balance and he held her steady with one arm. She
giggled involuntarily.

"Still dizzy?"

"A little."

But they were distracted by footsteps approaching, and
voices. He looked at her and put a finger over his lips. They watched,
recognizing the couple, moving slowly now along a gravel path toward the
castle.

"It is pointless," Siegfried warned, whispering.
Her eyes had opened wide and her lips tightened in a contemptuous smirk.
Although the sound of the others' voices carried, they could not make out the
words. The path wound away from them and the two figures moved, swifter now,
toward the castle, caught clearly in the entrance light. He wondered if they
would embrace now or had experienced what he had just enjoyed. The anger
emanating from Dawn seemed palpable.

"The bastard," she hissed. The sound seemed
louder where they stood, but her voice had not carried to the couple, who moved
into the hotel.

"What's good for the goose..." she said, her
tongue clear again. "He couldn't wait for me to get out of there."

"Accept it then." His sense of mischief was
dissipated, along with his spent desire. He felt only pity for her now.

"I accept nothing," she said. She shivered and
looked up at the stars, now visible, as a patch of cloud had passed. He lifted
his coat from the ground and put it around her shoulders. She shrugged it off.

"Don't be so fucking solicitous. You got what you
wanted."

"Value offered. Value received."

He expected a burst of anger. Instead, she smiled, throwing
her head back and laughing. "You are alike you know," she said.

"Are you angry?"

"Not angry," she said. He liked her, genuinely,
admiring her honesty. She shook her head. "I suppose I betrayed him. It
would have been unthinkable even this morning."

They walked into the empty lobby. The sleepy clerk lifted
heavy moon eyes and tried to look alert as they passed him.

"Accept it, Dawn," he said again as they stood
waiting for the elevator, which creaked and groaned toward them. She looked at
him with narrowing eyes, then smiled, flashing almost perfect teeth. A single
imperfection, one crooked eye tooth, hardened the image of her. The elevator
opened and they stepped in. They pressed their respective buttons and the cab
churned into dubious action, like a great beast awakened from a sound sleep.

"You mustn't do anything foolish," he said,
knowing that the anxiety was visible now. It was, of course, his own Achilles'
heel. It was perfectly safe to be mildly mischievous, clever and outrageous,
providing that the rocked boat did not draw water. He watched as her smile
changed. There were new aspects to her, as if her range were expanding before
his eyes. The elevator stopped. The grated door clanked open. The embryo of a
new fear gripped him.

"I already have," she said. Then her face seemed
to clap shut and he moved out of the elevator. He turned back only after the
elevator door had closed, watching the mirrored surface of the outer door. In
it, he saw his pale face clearly. Frightened, it stared back at him.

The sun streamed brightly in the Baron's room through the
arched windows of the high tower. The mist had disappeared early and the view
from the window was panoramic, with the mountains and the valley sharply
etched. Charles sat propped up by the overstuffed pillows on the high feather
bed. Earlier, a barber from the nearby town had come by to cut his hair and
shave him, an old custom that gave the Baron pleasure. By the time the others
began to arrive for breakfast, he was properly groomed and rouged. His image in
the glass stared back with satisfaction while Karla, with compliments,
buttressed his sense of well-being.

He always felt stronger in the morning, a condition which
faded as the day progressed, although he was able to marvel at the stamina he
displayed at last night's dinner.

"You look well, Father," Rudi said as he entered
the room and walked to the edge of the bed. Two waiters had set a large round
table and the smell of coffee and bacon was pervasive and tempting. Charles
nodded to his second son, offering a thin smile. The plutonium matter had put
his second son in a new light. Perhaps over the years he had missed something
about him, the clumsiness and chubbiness a barrier to understanding the person
within.

Siegfried arrived, pasty-faced, going directly to the
coffeepot, taking it from the waiter and pouring a steaming cup, which he
sipped saucerless with a shaking hand. The Baron's disgust with his oldest son
was absolute. Perhaps he suffered him because he was, after all, the oldest, a
lesser evil within the circle than outside of it. As long as he merely
attended, said little, provided no difficulties or interference, he would be
tolerated. Like Charles' own father.

Frederick and Wilhelm arrived together, overly solicitous
and fawning, taking their seats around the table, sitting stiff-backed and
silent as they waited for the group to assemble. They were brothers although
they were diametrically different in physiognomy. Wilhelm short and tiny boned.
Frederick, tall, sandy-haired and rough-skinned. They were the grandsons of
his grandfather's brother who had died early.

Albert, Klaus, and Adolph followed, paying their respect to
the old man while Karla fussed with the comforter and repositioned the pillows.
Small talk seemed superfluous as the men silently ate and drank while the
waiters hovered over them.

"Excellent," Adolph exclaimed, wiping his heavy
lips daintily with his napkin and smiling at one of the waiters, the younger
one.

"Really," Siegfried said, watching his cousin
with amusement.

Adolph blushed and lowered his eyes.

"Will you please leave?" Karla said suddenly,
directing the order to the waiters, who understood immediately and quietly left
the room.

When they had gone, Albert lit a cigarette and inhaled
deeply, exhaling the smoke through flared nostrils. The Baron recognized the
gesture. Albert was uneasy. It would be an interesting test of his younger
son's coolness.

Since the last reunion, the von Kassel arms brokering
network had pulled off the most complex deal in the history of the family.
Orchestrated by Albert with superb cooperation of everyone seated around the
table, the family had disposed of most of the American arms abandoned in Vietnam. It was done with such cool efficiency that even the old Baron had marveled. Albert
had come to see him two years ago, and in the space of less than a half hour
had outlined the deal without a note on paper.

The von Kassels kept few records, except for a coded
inventory on computers. Profits were siphoned off through countless international
corporations. The Baron recalled his mounting excitement as Albert had outlined
the deal in the characteristic monotone that von Kassels used in their business
dealings.

"The Americans have left five billion dollars worth in
total value, 800,000 M16's, six hundred M48 tanks, a hundred self-propelled
guns. Value, one million each. Seventy-three Northrop fighters, some still
crated, and an IBM computer with a trained Vietnamese cadre. The computer they
kept. The Israelis, as usual, bartered their Russian cache for a portion of the
rifles and the self-propelled, laying off some on the Lebanese Christians.
Otherwise, we stayed clear of the moderate Arabs. Too many American advisors
aware of the inventory. South Africa took some of the Tigers for their rag-tag
secret air fleet. Excellent customers for aircraft since they have a devil of a
time getting them from anyplace else. We shipped them in Panamanian bottoms as
Toyotas. Rudi did a hell of a job spreading the tanks around South America.
Between Argentina, Chile, Uruguay and Brazil and, of course, Israel, we moved them swiftly and without a hitch. The goods were well spread, although we
had to do some trading with the Yugos and the Hungarians who needed repo parts
for their older Russian stuff which we got from the Egyptians. Adolph moved
some of the tanks to the Thais and Indonesians and, of course, the Aussies came
in for a fair share of the self-propelled. Wilhelm had his hands full moving
the currency and gold around, but, actually, for such a massive disposal, it
went rather smoothly. Thank goodness the Russians and the Americans got
everybody hooked on different weapons. Otherwise we might have had troubles.
The oddest factor is that all the spooks from CIA and KGB have got to know what
came down, but nobody's talking or moving against the traffic because it's good
for everybody, especially us. It was simple actually. Even the movement of gold
to the Vietnamese. The Chinese were most cooperative and Adolph was masterful.
Even the Americans got something out of it, considering that they'll have to
move repo parts for the in-use equipment."

The Baron had listened with awe to his son's description.
Albert was not bragging, simply reporting on the transaction as he had been
doing ever since the operational end of the business had been turned over to
him. He had been satisfied then that his son had the capability to assume the
control that he could no longer exercise. Then, why the hesitation now, he
wondered, remembering what Rudi had said: "He is making a moral judgment
that has no place in our business."

It was Rudi's voice again, pitched high, that recalled his
sense of place. Except for the light clinking of cups on saucers, the room was
silent as soon as Rudi started to speak. The Baron watched as Albert punched
out his cigarette in the ashtray and folded his hands.

"We have a serious question before us," Rudi
said, his voice lowering as he prepared to make his case. It was, of course,
the biggest moment of his life.

"I have located a batch of pure plutonium, allegedly
from the American missing source, with the promise of more, if we can move this
properly." Little beads of sweat had popped out on his upper lip and the
clothes under his jacket must have been soaked. Albert's face remained impassive
as the other participants leaned over the table, their ears greedy to get the
full portent of the message. It had been intended as a bombshell, and the Baron
could see that Rudi had achieved his effect.

"I have the source and I have the buyer." He
looked slowly into the faces. "And I have been stalling them for
months."

"Who?" It was Adolph inquiring in his odd
sing-song.

"The seller, a Bolivian connection."

"And the buyer?"

"A South African. Payment in gold."

"And the ultimate source?"

"That is not our business."

A group murmur erupted around the table. Albert's face was
impassive. Rudi had not given the Baron the details of the proposed sale,
saving it for the right moment, for now. Thus, for the first time, Rudi was
actually acting on his own.

"Little downside risk," Rudi continued, the voice
rising again. Tiny red blotches had appeared on his cheeks and the sweat line
had also risen on his forehead. He did not look once into his brother Albert's
eyes.

"Our source insists he can locate more, if we can make
the disposal without trouble," Rudi said, unable to conceal his pride.

"And can we?" It was Wilhelm, ever the cautious
gnome.

"Payment in gold. Transportation arranged.
Simple."

Wilhelm shook his head in affirmation. He liked that. Gold
moved smoothly in world markets. Eastern Europe was hungry for gold and the
East Germans had worked out unique ways to buy gold for other commodities that
could be turned easily into Western or Japanese currency.

There were, of course, many unarticulated questions. That
did not mean that they required answers. Questions were only raised that could
not be answered by each of the men in the room, privately, from their
experience of the unique trade. The Baron, too, had already answered most of
them in his mind. Nevertheless, there were questions that had to be asked. Rudi
reveled in fielding them, his answers without hesitation, carefully and
patiently explained. Would the Russians and the Americans move jointly to stop
the transaction? Like all bureaucracies, the KGB and CIA had proven their
inefficiency, particularly the CIA, in letting the goods get loose in the first
place. And the connection would not have moved if he felt the timing was not
right. The missing plutonium was both baffling and embarrassing to the
Americans. Rudi outlined what seemed the logical scenario. There were
indications of both a Saudi and South African involvement. An odd couple, but
logical. With the Saudis involved, the Americans would be afraid to move. The
South Africans had already developed the technology but, Rudi speculated, the
detonation would take place in the vast Saudi desert, a reminder to the world
that the Saudis could now protect their oil fields. Quid pro quo on the vastest
scale imaginable. Far beyond even the wildest fancies of generations of von
Kassels.

"And the price?" Wilhelm asked.

Rudi smiled, showing remarkably white teeth. It was only
then that he looked at Albert, whose eyes seemed to be turned inward now. He
did not acknowledge his brother's stare.

"One billion," Rudi said.

"And our profit?" Wilhelm asked.

"Two hundred fifty million."

There seemed to be a single collective gasp around the
table.

"A quarter of a billion," Siegfried interpolated
with sarcasm. Even the Baron was impressed.

"My God," Adolph cried.

"It is the easiest, most profitable deal we will ever
make," Rudi said. He had finally taken out a handkerchief and swept his
face. Then he settled back and poured himself a cup of coffee, his
self-satisfaction fully revealed.

"You are to be congratulated," Wilhelm said. Rudi
flushed a deep red, indicating his further pleasure. But the broad clues of
conflict between the brothers were not lost on the others. All eyes turned to
Albert, who seemed to emerge slowly from a deep trance. Eyes narrowing, his
lips tightened, and although his color did not change, a nerve palpitated at
the edge of his jaw.

"It is my deal," Rudi snapped, drawing their
attention back to him. "Albert was against it."

The Baron felt his old heart churn, a brief flash of pain.
Noting this, Karla proferred a pillbox. I am all right, his eyes said, as he
put two tablets on his tongue and waited for the effect. It was a conflict that
had to be resolved one way or another, he told himself. In his mind, he totally
agreed with Rudi. Indeed, the once embattled Rudi was rising swiftly in his
esteem. Perhaps if he were leaner, less like Helga, the Baron mused. Rudi
raised his eyes to his father who nodded deliberately. It was a private
gesture, but Albert had seen it, turning his eyes away swiftly as if the
knowledge was stolen.

"Against it?" Adolph asked.

Albert nodded coolly.

"I acted on my own," Rudi interjected. He had
received courage from his father's affirmation.

"True," Albert agreed.

"Everything is in place. All we need now is
permission." Rudi caught himself. "Affirmation."

"I am against it," Albert said. He did not look
at any of the faces in the room, staring straight ahead, finding knowledge or
courage from some source known only to himself. There was no need to ask
"Why?" It simply demanded an answer. They were all waiting for it to
be forthcoming. Albert, after all, owed them an explanation, although he had
never been compelled to explain before.

If the Baron's youngest son felt surrounded, he showed no
sign. This was not a business issue. On the face of it, one had to accept
Rudi's assertions of minimum risk. The modus operandi was no different in
concept than in the days of his grandfather, and before. Weaponry was weaponry.
He was sure that the others sitting around the table could define the issue
clearly in their own minds. The only criterion was potential profit, and that
had been resoundingly met. So why refuse to deal, they might be asking
themselves, suspecting, as he did, that something profound had altered or was
altering Albert.

The gestures of the men, even the air and the smoke
expelled from burning cigarettes seemed frozen, instantly etched, as Albert
gathered his thoughts.

"I was against it when Rudi first broached it. I am
against it now," he said, lifting his head slowly to observe the alert eyes.
Again he paused. "It opens an entirely different path."

The Baron felt the pain begin again, but it seemed beyond
the physical. No medicine could anesthetize the pain he felt now watching his
younger son.

"Von Kassels are not immune to destruction," Albert
said, his mind groping for the required nuance. He, too, the Baron knew, had no
illusions about his position. The argument was, as it should have been, aimed
at himself.

"If you traffic in doomsday weapons, you court your
own doomsday," Albert continued, a flicker of animation showing on his
face. "Once you move those ingredients, the heart of the doomsday weapons,
out of the mainstream of political stability, you tempt fate. Some crackpot
will order their use." Albert paused.