The Stronger Sex (43 page)

“Good heavens!”

He apparently wanted to keep up his pretence of knowing nothing. I felt like telling him to drop it; he knew all about it, and I knew who had told him. But I said nothing. I took Klofft's letter out of my pocket and handed it to him.

He read it very fast, and refrained from pretending to be surprised. With a nod, he gave me the letter back. “Make a copy for me, please.” He settled in his chair and said, “Hm, well, then you'd better get in touch with Dr Gladke. I assume he'll have no objection to this proposal. Still less his client.” He laughed. “That's a lucky young woman!”

“Yes, you could say so. But what do you make of the offer? I mean, why is he suddenly showing all this generosity?”

“Because he wanted to get in ahead of Pandlitz, of course! Wanted to pay him out, get his own back.”

“I don't entirely understand.”

“What's so difficult about it?” He seemed to be annoyed. “As soon as he knew what Pandlitz had cooked up, he put that thing” – he pointed to Klofft's letter – “he put that thing down on paper. So that everyone would think he was in control again.”

“But he wrote it last week! He specially mentions the date.”

Hochkeppel smiled and shook his head pityingly. “Fell for all his tricks, did you?”

I almost lost control of myself in the face of such obstinate dislike. Such steadfast hatred. I said, raising my voice a little, “Have you thought that he could only have heard about Pandlitz's proposal from me? And he certainly didn't write that letter then and there, in front of me!”

He smiled. “You have something yet to learn, Alexander, no offence meant! Have
you
thought that he very probably had someone planted in the courtroom? Someone who was also to spy on you. Someone who rang him the moment Pandlitz had announced his proposal and told him about it, straight from the horse's mouth?”

I felt hot. I had just remembered Manderscheidt. I said, but it was only a feeble attempt at contradiction, “Dr Hochkeppel, it's just not possible that in the three-quarters of an hour, no more, that it took me to get from the court to
him, your friend Klofft, a layman, had managed to formulate the complicated text of his proposal – no, do his research
and
then formulate it!” I put my hand to my forehead. “Oh, and type it too! Can you tell me how he's supposed to have done that, the way his fingers tremble?”

He dismissed that airily, saying with a smile, “Never mind all that, Alex! I know him rather better than you do! I know how devoured by ambition the man is. By his craving for recognition. By a mania to be always the first, the best, the most able. Cleverer than the rest. And how obsessed by fear that he might lose face. Might find the man who can get the better of him.”

He stopped, as if this enumeration had exhausted him, took his glasses off and rubbed his face. Then he said, “OK. Make sure you get in touch with Gladke as soon as possible. And show him this… this capitulation on Klofft's part. The sooner it's dealt with the better.”

I felt a certain secret pleasure in having another little problem for him. I said, “There's one more point I'd have liked to clear up with you.”

He looked at me. “Oh yes.” It sounded as if he himself had just remembered the problem. Well, of course Cilly had told him
that
too. And asked for his help.

I said, “Frau Klofft wants me not to tell her husband about the proposal made by Pandlitz. She thinks he could get so agitated that he might… come to some harm. Or even die.”

He looked out of the window. Then he nodded. “Yes, that's a tricky one. On the other hand: there are no cuts suggested in what Pandlitz wants. Klofft's offer is even more generous than Pandlitz's proposal.”

He said nothing for a while, and then looked at me. “OK. Do as she wants. If anyone finds out, I'll say I told you to keep it from him. I can be sure of your discretion. Can't I?”

46

His attachment to Cilly must still be strong, stronger than I'd thought until now. If that were not the case, he'd have dismissed her bizarre proposition with raised eyebrows and an indignant shake of the head. And he would have thought it wrong of me to pass the idea on to him at all. He would have reminded me of the duties of a lawyer and asked whether the lectures and seminars on ethical aspects of the profession that I had attended had failed to sink in.

I had once been almost sure that he had had an affair with Cilly, or even a relationship lasting some time. He had been her father's lawyer, acting for the industrious Gherkin Gehrke, and had probably known her when she was a very young girl. Perhaps he hadn't thought it right to court her yet, and then, when he thought she was old enough, along came handsome Herbert Klofft, with his inventive mind and broad shoulders, and stole her from him. Bruno Hochkeppel had given way and married his nice blonde wife.

Absurdly, he had his rival to thank for the fact that he was still thrown together with Cilly: the uncouth Klofft, I thought, had probably got his marriage into a crisis soon for the first time, and after there had been three or four such crises, she had sought advice and comfort, and naturally a little love, from her old friend. And Bruno Hochkeppel, carried away, had plunged into the first great adventure of his life – the first and at the same time probably the last. Of course he was clever enough to keep the liaison secret from the dangerous Klofft. And everyone else. Cilly, naturally, was clever enough for that too.

Yes, and so they all lived happily ever after, and so on and so forth! Was I really going to explain Hochkeppel's deviation from the path of professional duty with a trashy story, the sort you find in the popular magazines? No. More likely she would have kept him short, giving him her love
in careful doses. Disappointing his desire again and again and thus keeping it alive. The way I'd noticed her playing games with me.

No, and no again. What nonsense. I didn't think Hochkeppel had any sexual needs left. The man was seventy-seven! Klofft, of course, was a year older and still so greedy for it that he had forced the beautiful Frau Fuchs into a situation that she would rather forget. And he acted as if he would sooner have it off with his sturdy maidservant right away rather than in five minutes' time.

Never mind, that was another matter. And what was Hochkeppel's close attachment to Cilly really like? So close that he was ready to do something not quite right for her sake, in addition sparing the “friend” he hated pain?

I thought of what Klofft had said about the difference between sex and love. But it went very much against the grain to regard him, of all men, as an expert on relationships between the sexes. Time to put off puzzling over all this guesswork.

When I called Gladke's chambers, they put him straight on the line. “Well, your client's not best pleased, I suppose?” he said. “He's not going to accept Dr Pandlitz's wise words, is he?”

“No, certainly not. But for once you have the wrong end of the stick, Dr Gladke.”

“I can't wait to hear more. Would he rather appeal to the next court up?”

“No, not that either. You can have one more guess.”

“Sorry, but your tactics are beyond me. Come on, tell me, what
does
he want?”

I said, “He wants to propose a settlement to your client.”

Gladke said mirthlessly, “Ha, ha, ha.” Then he added, “Sorry, but you really make me laugh.” He produced the mock laughter again, and went on, “He surely doesn't
seriously think my client is going to accept some shabby offer with one less zero than the settlement our wise judge Pandlitz thought proper, does he?”

“Never mind what Herr Klofft thinks, that's not the point. I would at least like to discuss my client's proposal with you.”

“And you can promise me that it's not just a waste of time?”

“I'm not promising anything. When? Tomorrow? Or do you have time this evening?”

I cursed myself when, after a moment's thought and leafing through some papers, he said, “OK. Seven p.m. here in our chambers?”

But my call seemed to have put him in hospitable mood. He had sent out for sandwiches and chilled some beer. He skimmed through Klofft's document, still standing, looked at me once in total astonishment and read it again. By the time he sat down with me at the little table in his room, however, he had recovered his composure. He was grinning. “Does he really think he can get her back into his clutches?”

I said, “I've only just told you, what my client thinks is neither here nor there. It's obvious that he's offering her alternatives: she can stay with the firm or she can go.”

He nodded, and said nothing for a moment, before asking, “Did you induce him to do this?”

“No. As you can see, he puts it on record that he wrote it
before
the hearing.”

“Yes, yes.” He thought for a while again, shook his head, took a sandwich and bit into it. I poured myself a beer and took a sandwich too.

With his mouth full, he said, “If I put this alternative to her – that she can stay on at the firm – she'll go for my jugular!”

“Is she really so wound up?”

“Wound up? Well, if that's what you like to call it, yes, she is.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I can try to get him to withdraw this offer. He meant well.”

Gladke went, “Ha, ha, ha,” again.

He tried changing details of Klofft's document, this time with a brazen demand. When we came to the compensation, he thought for a little while and then said, “He's multiplied the gross salary figures by 1.9, right?”

“I don't know, but that's what it looks like, yes.”

He shook his head. “Isn't that rather low? I mean, why not go the whole hog? Let's say the factor is not 1.9 but 2.0, only right for a big businessman like him! So that would amount to…” He moved his lips silently and then said, “One hundred and thirty-two thousand euros. Well, is that an idea?”

“No, it is not an idea. I'm afraid I'd call it outrageous.”

He wasn't going to stop grinning. “Why are you losing your temper like that? You don't have to copy Herr Klofft in everything, even if you
are
representing him.”

I said, “Right, let me make this clear. I didn't come here to haggle. I consider the compensation proposed by my client a generous offer, very generous. And I shall advise him against making any alteration designed to squeeze even more money out of him. I shall advise him against it very strongly.”

I stopped to take a deep breath. Then I said, “And let's get something else clear: I will not confront my client with your request for him to strike out the alternatives that he is offering Frau Fuchs. She has the option of staying on in her position in his firm if she likes. He had something in mind with that. Even if it was only to let her know how much he wanted a… a cessation of hostilities.” I shrugged my shoulders. “And then, Gladke, you'll just have to accept the risk that she may go for your jugular. I'm sure you can stand up to that, can't you?”

He said, “Hey, hey, hey!” It was probably meant to express both surprise at my outburst and sardonic appreciation.
But one way or another Gladke did seem impressed. He probably also knew that he couldn't decline this gift of a settlement without getting himself a reputation for being downright deranged.

We agreed on a form of words incorporating all the essential elements of Klofft's proposal, and he said he would get Katharina Fuchs's approval that same evening. Next morning I drove out to the Kloffts' villa after calling Cilly first.

She said, “He isn't up yet. He asked for breakfast in bed, and the newspapers. He's asleep now. I've just looked in to see.” She laughed. “But you know where his bedroom is. I'm sure he will want to see you.”

He did want to see me, but he hardly opened his eyes when I came in. He got me to read him the text of the agreement, and I wasn't sure whether he was listening with his eyes closed or had fallen asleep.

When I had finished, he did open his eyes. “That's all really what I wrote, isn't it?”

“Pretty well exactly, yes. And nothing of any importance has been added.”

He laughed. “That'll floor friend Pandlitz!”

Friend Pandlitz must indeed have been floored, but he didn't let it show. The settlement was put on record as agreed, and everyone went happily home. Before Herr Schmickler took her in his arms, Frau Fuchs even returned my nod of farewell. A day later the pair of them went off to Switzerland, as a phone call from Leo Manderscheidt told me. And a little later she gave up her apartment here.

When I went to tell Klofft about the conclusion of proceedings, he was still in bed. Before he fell asleep again, he said, “But we must have another game of chess. We have time for that now, don't we?”

I said, “Yes, that's a good idea, we must. But it probably won't be possible this week. Just call me after that if you feel like it. And then I'll see whether I can make it.”

“OK,” he said. His eyes were closed. “I'll do that.”

But he didn't call. I did keep calling Cilly to ask how he was. She almost always said, “No change.”

Early in November, just before I went skiing for a week with Frauke, I brought myself to ask Cilly, “You know… I don't mean to try advising you, but I think it's rather worrying that he keeps just sleeping.”

She said, “Yes, so do I.”

“Well, but…” I cleared my throat. “Shouldn't he be having medical treatment?”

“He should indeed.” She said that since the disastrous hearing in court she had kept trying to get him to see the doctor, but the mere idea always got him so agitated that she feared for him. So last week she had called the doctor without telling him first.