The Wager

11

Ralph Jamison, late of Worcester, Mass. and Fort Lauderdale, Florida, but most recently of Washington, D.C., sat on the edge of his bed in his room at the Barbados Hilton, nursing a swollen jaw which four hours of ice pack had done little to reduce in size; his other hand held a telephone receiver to a puffy and painful ear, waiting for the completion of a call he had been advised was coming in. As he waited he looked back in time. It was his fond hope that that idiot corporal from the museum be taken out and shot, following which Jamison hoped he be given the lash, reduced in rank, and put to work on the roads for the rest of his life. It would serve him right, and the roads could probably stand it, too. The affair with the crazed, freckled-faced maniac in Fort Lauderdale, which had permitted Huuygens to get out of sight in the first place, was explainable at least; the man was simply insane. But the corporal had been under orders and supposedly used to discipline. Why he had suddenly gone berserk and started to hit him was something Jamison simply could not understand. Maybe if he had been able to understand all that gibberish in French or Spanish or whatever language everyone had been shouting at the time—

His bitter thoughts were interrupted by the telephone operator, informing him that his party was on the line. Jamison wet his lips and closed his eyes, imagining the conversation that was about to commence. He opened his eyes suddenly; it would probably be even worse in the dark.

“Hello, sir,” he said weakly.

“Jamison!” The ice-cold voice managed to emphasize the name without being raised one decibel above normal. Jamison could almost see the narrowed flintlike eyes, the jutting jaw, the thin bloodless lips, the Hoover collar, and the twiglike fingers restlessly twiddling a pencil.

“Sir?”

“What happened?” Jamison could also see the pencil being tossed aside and the hatchet face brought closer to the mouthpiece. “The morning newspapers report there was a burglary at the Ile Rocheux museum last night, and that a valuable carving was stolen. Is that the carving you’ve been raving about ever since this business began?”

“That was the one, yes, sir. It was a Chang Tzu T’sien—”

“I don’t care what it was! I thought according to your latest orders you were supposed to have Wilkinson there precisely to prevent the robbery! Were those or were they not your orders?”

“Yes, sir, they were, but—”

“Then where was Wilkinson?”

“He... he got sick in San Juan.”

“He what?”

“Yes, sir. Lobster thermidor. So I took his place.”

“So where were you, then, during the robbery?”

“I—” Jamison swallowed. “I—”

“Well, man, speak up!”

“I was there, sir...”

There was a moment’s silence. Then a Gargantuan sigh came across two thousand miles of cable. “You are telling me that a museum was robbed under your very nose? With two guards there, as well? Is that what you are trying to tell me?”

“What happened, sir—”

“Just answer the question! Is it true that a museum was robbed while you were there, and a carving stolen you were supposed to protect? With two guards there as well? Yes or no!”

“Well, yes, sir, but—”

“And you want me to believe it was just an accident?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Jamison answered fervently. “It wasn’t an accident. It was a gang, sir—”

“A gang?”

“Yes, sir.” Jamison felt his confidence returning as he pictured the events of the previous evening and went on to explain them, sure he could convince his superior. “You see, sir, the lights suddenly went out; we later found the fuse box in the basement had been tampered with, knocking out the floor alarm system as well. And we found where we think the gang went out, too, sir. It was downstairs, in the rear. There must have been three or four of them, from all the yelling. No, sir!” Jamison said positively, now almost recovered. “It was this man Huuygens, sir, without a doubt.”

Disbelief marked every word of his superior. “I thought the poop sheet on Huuygens says he always works alone?”

“Well, sir, it’s true that’s what the sheet says, but he must have changed his modus operandi—”

“Will you stop using those words! Ever since you were stationed in Port Everglades and caught that one single woman with heroin in her earrings, you consider yourself a detective! You also know the sheet says that Huuygens does not resort to burglary. Or to violence.”

“There’s always got to be that first burglary for every crook,” Jamison said stubbornly, and thought with bitterness that so far the only violence that had occurred had occurred to him, which wasn’t fair. “This has all the earmarks of Huuygens, sir. It—”

“What earmarks?”

“Well, sir, the whole gang spoke French. I think—”

“Eighty million Frenchmen speak French,” the cold voice pointed out and considered. “Probably a lot more, now. I was thinking of a few years back.”

“Yes, sir.” Jamison plowed bravely on. “But in Port Everglades Huuygens didn’t come back to the ship, and the things in his cabin had been left intact. He didn’t take anything, not even his toothbrush, which you have to admit looks suspicious—”

His superior snorted. “He missed the ship, is all.”

“Yes, sir. I know he did. But he did it on purpose, I’m sure. And he didn’t catch it again in San Juan, like I did—”

The voice at the other end of the line was totally unbelieving. “You missed the ship in Port Everglades, too?”

Jamison mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t meant to admit that fact.

“What happened, sir, is I came back to the ship and looked all over for Huuygens, and I couldn’t find him. The man at the gangplank didn’t remember him coming back aboard and it started to get dark, so I went back down to the pier to see if maybe he was coming—”

“And the ship sailed out from under you!” The sigh came again, a bit despairingly. “You know, Jamison, I think you’d better come home. To face departmental charges, probably.”

“Charges, sir?”

“Exactly. Let me tell you what I think really happened.” There was a brief pause as the owner of the cold voice marshaled his facts. Jamison waited, miserable. Damn that Huuygens; this was all his fault! “All right, then, Jamison,” the cold voice said, “let me refresh your memory. One month ago our department received a tip from a man who needed some money, a man who worked for Victor Girard as a bodyguard. Correct?”

“Yes, sir. He went broke in a gin rummy game. We paid him fifty dollars—”

“Don’t interrupt! I know what he got paid; you signed the voucher. If anything untoward happens in this case, that amount comes off your next paycheck. Now, according to your report, that tip told you that this Kek Huuygens was planning on bringing a stolen carving through Customs. Correct?”

“The informant said he thought that was what was being arranged—”

“He thought?” It was unbelievable! “What kind of informants do you have, anyway? Don’t they even listen to the information they’re trying to sell?”

“He said he was still thinking about the gin rummy game, sir—”

“What about the second time Girard met with Huuygens?”

Jamison swallowed. “My informant was reading a magazine, sir—”

“Good God! Well, in any event, you’ve told me repeatedly you believed Huuygens meant to smuggle the carving into the States, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Jamison said firmly. “I still do. More than ever.”

“We’ll come to that later. And at the time you received this so-called tip, I believe you were in favor of the burglary being allowed to take place, so you could catch this Huuygens in the act of smuggling and be rid of him once and for all. Right?”

“Yes, sir!”

“And I told you at that time that the Department does not operate that way. To begin with, it would have been entrapment, and in the second place—”

“But, sir,” Jamison said pleadingly, “it wouldn’t have been entrapment at all! We didn’t ask Huuygens to bring stolen merchandise into the country through Customs, Girard did—”

“I don’t want to warn you about interruptions again, Jamison! As I was saying, I told you at that time the Department does not condone burglary, just to be able to catch the thief trying to smuggle something in later. I explained to you that it would be immoral, and probably wouldn’t work in the first place. I then instructed you to use Wilkinson on the case with you. I told you, if you insisted, that you could follow Huuygens and keep an eye on him, but that Wilkinson was to go to Ile Rocheux and warn the authorities there of the plot — or of what you conceived to be the plot — and to make damn sure nobody stole the carving. Or anything else.” The voice, if possible grew even colder. “And now you tell me Wilkinson, quite by accident, happened to get sick on fish in San Juan and that you had to take his place!”

“It was lobster thermidor, and it’s the truth, sir! Honest! Wilkinson will verify it. Ask him if I didn’t tell him to have the shrimp—”

“And as a result of these changes in my instructions,” the cold voice went on accusingly, “the carving has been stolen and in my estimation you think you can satisfy your overweening ambition by catching this man Huuygens trying to bring it through Customs.” The sniff from Washington was audible on the line. “And you want me to believe you did not purposely allow that robbery to take place? You must take me for a fool.”

“Oh, no, sir—”

“Don’t interrupt!”

“I thought you were through, sir—”

“Jamison! Jamison, do you realize what could happen if State ever got involved in this? Can you imagine the repercussions here in Washington if the story came out? Practically perpetrating a burglary against a friendly nation?”

“Honest, sir! I swear! On my life! On— on—” Jamison searched frantically and finally came up with the answer. “On the honor of the Department, sir.” It was said with simple dignity.

That was a show-stopper. There was a long pause. “Well; if you want me to believe it was just sheer stupidity on your part...”

“Oh, yes, sir! Please let me stay on the case and finish it!” Jamison put the full weight of his sincerity on the line. “Sir, I’m positive that Huuygens has the carving and will try to bring it into the States. Let me catch him at it. Please, sir?”

There were several moments of contemplation on the part of the man in Washington; then his gigantic sigh could be heard again. Jamison could almost see the other scratching himself in contemplation.

“It’s true we’re short of capable men,” the man in Washington said at last. “And I suppose it would be a feather in our caps if we were to bring this Huuygens to his heels...” A decision was reached with the rapidity and solid thinking that comes from true Washington executive ability once minds are made up. “All right! Stay with it!”

“Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you!”

“Don’t slobber. And don’t thank me, just bring it off. Now, what are your plans?”

“Well, sir,” Jamison said, almost as if he had given much thought to the matter, “I don’t think there is any doubt that Huuygens will be in touch with Girard again. Now, if we get in touch with that bodyguard and tell him this time to pay attention—”

Washington interrupted. “Our computers already thought of that. Unfortunately, the man seems to have gotten into an argument with somebody in an alley the other night. At the moment he’s in the hospital with a broken arm and several cracked ribs.”

“Oh.” Well, at least he wasn’t the only one to suffer in the affair, Jamison thought; somehow it made his jaw ache less. “Then I suppose I’ll have to pick up the ship again—”

“Ship?”

“The MV Andropolis, sir. It docks tomorrow here in Barbados. I’m sure Huuygens had a very good reason for coming on the cruise, rather than coming down here by air, and I intend to find out what it is. I’m sure it has something to do with his plan on smuggling the carving past us in New York!”

“You think he’ll go back to the ship? To the whatever-it-is? Why would he join it in Barbados when he didn’t rejoin it before in any of the other ports? San Juan, or St. Thomas?”

“The carving hadn’t been stolen before,” Jamison said craftily. “I’m sure he’ll join the ship here.” He thought of a further argument. “And he left three suits and his luggage on board, and—”

“And a toothbrush. I know. But just to be sure, I’ll notify the airport personnel to be on the watch for him.”

“Oh, he’ll be on the ship, sir.”

“I hope you’re right,” said the man in Washington, “and I hope you catch him with the goods, because if you don’t, then the past two weeks are going to come out of your accumulated vacation time.” He thought a moment. Jamison could see the thin fingers reaching for the pencil again. “I’m not sure about the expenses. How much money do you have in your retirement fund?”

“It won’t come to that, sir. Don’t worry. We’ll nail him!”

“I sincerely suggest you do.” The other voice was frosty, “For your own sake.” The number in Washington hung up.

Jamison placed the receiver back in its cradle and stared at the telephone triumphantly. Not only hadn’t the confrontation been nearly as bad as others in the past — actually, in comparison to the last time, his superior had almost seemed jovial — but the opportunity of a lifetime had just been presented to him. To be the man who finally caught Kek Huuygens with the goods! The name Jamison would become a household word among Customs officials throughout the world. He might even get a raise in grade. He rubbed his painful jaw; it would even be worth the beatings he had taken at the hands of those two maniacs to bring Huuygens, at long last, to justice! Not only an international smuggler, but a man who had left him to be manhandled by a young bruiser in Fort Lauderdale. Jamison twisted his lip aristocratically. The fact was that this Huuygens wasn’t even a gentleman!

Oddly enough, to the profit of ITT and to the confusion of those who do not believe in coincidence, at the same time that Ralph Jamison was speaking with his superior, Kek Huuygens was also making a telephone call to the United States. There, however, the comparison ceased, for Huuygens was calling New York City, rather than Washington, and while he waited for his call to be completed he did not worry at all. Instead, he watched André model a newly purchased wardrobe to augment the meager amount of apparel with which he had come to the islands. Since neither Bajans nor tourists were anywhere near as outsized as André, the selection had been quite limited, and the shirt he was now displaying would have frightened a designer of Hawaiian patterns. André considered his image in the mirror, smiled his approval, and stripped it off to replace it with one equally exotic. Kek returned his attention to the telephone, which was making noises.

The familiar “Allô!” came on the line.

“Good afternoon,” Kek said pleasantly. “This is—”

The raspy voice contained anger. “I know who you are! What took you so long calling? The papers—”

“Ah, yes, the papers,” Kek interjected smoothly. “You will be pleased to know that all the papers have been signed, M’sieu.” The idiot, Girard! Was he attempting to advertise their part in the burglary? “The transaction is complete, M’sieu.”

Girard recognized his near-error and dropped his voice, but his irritation could still be heard. “Still, why the delay in informing me?”

“Completing the purchase was no simple matter, M’sieu. The bargaining took most of the night. Then there was the matter of sleep, and a few other chores we wished to do—”

“We?”

“Your salesman and myself, M’sieu.”

“But I thought you wanted no contact with him?”

“As I remarked the last time we spoke, when I saw your salesman I recognized him at once. He is a man of great talents, M’sieu, possibly even meriting a bonus. And now that I find he is returning on the same ship as myself—”

There was a subtle change in Girard’s voice.

“I want to speak to you about that. I strongly suggest you do not return on that ship. You, I mean.” One could almost hear the shrug come into the harsh voice. “How the other returns is unimportant. His money is waiting for him here.”

“But—”

“Please, M’sieu. Let me speak. Do you remember your curiosity as to how anyone might know we were bidding on that particular item? And might be keeping an eye on you to — ah, possibly outbid us?”

Kek frowned. “I remember.”

“I’m afraid it was one of my clerks, as you suggested.” Girard’s voice took on a sudden viciousness. “For a paltry bribe of fifty dollars! Fifty dollars, can you imagine? The fool!”

“He told you this?”

“He told me several things,” Girard answered harshly. “He was most contrite — in the hospital.”

“Oh — the poor man had an accident? Not too serious, I hope.”

“A broken arm and two cracked ribs. He’ll recover.”

“Very good,” Kek sounded, relieved. He certainly didn’t want to be the cause, consciously or unconsciously, of Girard’s full revenge being visited on anyone. He stared at the telephone thoughtfully. “Then I imagine he also told you which one of your competitors bribed him?”

“No, M’sieu.” There was a certain amount of satisfaction in Girard’s tone. “He told me it was your competitor—”

“My competitor?”

“Exactly, M’sieu. Your perpetual competitor.”

“I see.” So the bodyguard had gone to the United States Customs, and the result was Ralph Jamison. One would think for the amount of taxes the American citizen paid, he would get better protection from his government. Well, better the devil one knew than the devil unknown, although to call Jamison a devil seemed to be building him up in stature. Imp, possibly? “Precisely what did your clerk tell my competitor? That I intended to make the purchase? Because originally I did not.”

“No, he simply told them you intended to make the delivery. It’s all he heard, the fool. On the other hand, if he had heard more and told them more, his accident might well have been more serious.”

“Then it was fortunate all around he did not hear more.” Kek shrugged philosophically. “In any event, my competition usually assumes the worst of my business practices, so any special knowledge on their part really makes little difference.”

“I still think discretion is the better part of valor,” Girard said stubbornly. “A change in schedule seems to me definitely to be indicated. They will be expecting you to return on that ship, and after all the trouble we’ve been to—”

Kek’s eyebrows rose humorously at the “we.” Victor Girard and Lindbergh. He looked up to see André watching him carefully. He winked at the large man and went back to his phone call.

“The existence of my competition, and their knowledge of my activities will definitely be taken into consideration in determining my future plans, M’sieu. Thank you for the information.”

“Good, good! I’m glad you agree. Then you’ll be back sooner?”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit early to say,” Kek said regretfully. “To be on the safe side, why don’t we stay with our original plan and meet on the first of next month at your apartment?”

Frustration crept into Girard’s voice. Kek could see him seething; it was a pleasant sight. “But what will you be doing in the meantime?”

“Keeping busy,” Kek said gently. “With this and that. Is there anything else?”

“No,” Girard said sullenly, and then woke up. “Yes! When will I hear from you again?”

“On August first. As scheduled. If you wish a more exact point in time, make it exactly noon.” Kek paused, then added coolly. “And please be prepared to honor the exact terms of our agreement, M’sieu.”

“I’ll be prepared. Just see that you’re prepared!” Girard said grimly, and slammed down the receiver.

Kek hung up and smiled at André.

“M’sieu Victor Girard would prefer that I do not return by way of the Andropolis,” he explained. “It seems my old sight-seeing friend from Fort Lauderdale, the man in the white suit from our little adventure last evening, is really from the United States Customs service, and Girard is afraid he might return to the ship and — as they used to say in the Saturday afternoon serial — Discover All!”

André’s face fell. “So you won’t be coming back with us on the ship?”

Kek smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He came to his feet and studied André critically. “I have to do some shopping, so I suggest you come along. Maybe we can find some wide neckties to hide a bit of those horrors.”