Chapter Thirty-one
They found themselves at the same table as the previous evening. From his place at the piano, Sam caught Christine's eye and gave her a small, polite nod.
From across the room, Major Hetzner narrowed his gray eyes and watched as Raoul de Chagny leaned close to whisper something in his wife's ear.
Such a lovely little thing. And he'd heard she had a pretty voice, too.
He wondered how she would react to the sight of her husband lying dead with a bullet lodged in his forehead.
Or perhaps...before they executed him...they'd deal with him the way they'd treated that nightclub owner in Paris...the one who had escaped.
In his office, Erik glanced indifferently over the night's reservation list. He paused only for a moment when he saw the name de Chagny
He would not watch her from the mirrors tonight. He adjusted his mask again and went down the stairs into his club.
He saw two German officers pausing in the door of the gambling room and saw Daniel's eyes narrow at the sight of them. Like some many of his emplyees, Daniel was a refugee who had his own unfortunate encounters with the Nazis.
Erik had never asked Daniel...or any of them...what they had endured, what they had lost to these animals.
No...not animals...and that is the evil of this...they are humans who lack humanity.
He knew, too, that many of his employees were involved in organizations that met in secret. He never questioned their clandestine meetings. So longs as they did not endanger Belle Reve.
He saw a third officer seated at a table with Inspector Giry. He felt a sickening shock of recognition as he remembered a tall, thin officer with thick blonde hair and almond-shaped gray eyes.
He clenched his fist in the pocket of his dinner jacket to keep himself from checking to make sure the mask was really there. Then he saw what...no...who Major Hetzner was staring at.
Madame de Chagny...the shawl shimmering around her shoulder's...the soft light of the club like a veil over her...
He felt a rage surge up through his already tense body. He falling to his knees, hammered down with pain, but still coherent enough to see the smirk on the Major's face. And now Hetzner was here in Casablanca...here in his own nightclub...watching Christine.
Six days...don't forget...you were hardly cold in your grave when she rushed in to de Chagny's arms.
He avoided passing her table as he made his way to the bar.
"Evening, Monsieur," Daniel said, offering his boss a flute of the house's best champagne as usual.
Erik did not answer him and, though he accepted the glass, he did not touch the sparkling drink.
"Monsieur," Daniel said in a conspiratorial voice, "there's a meeting tonight at..."
"I have no interest in your meetings, Daniel. You know that. It's a dance of fools."
"Begging your pardon, Monsieur, I'm surprised to hear you say that. You of all people have reason to join us."
Erik silenced his bartender with a frown.
"I have no desire for revenge. It takes too much effort. I want only to survive. Now, will you leave me in peace, damn it!"
Daniel shook his head as he moved to wait on an Hungarian businessman and his wife at the far end of the bar. His boss was a difficult man to deal with, but beneath the hard veneer, beneath that awful mask, Daniel was certain the man had a good soul.