The Wager

13

Young Billy Standish sat at the table for two he had arranged in the dining room and glowered. It was not simply that the captain, at the last moment and without even a written invitation, had invited Anita to be his guest and dine in his quarters, thus depriving Billy of a meal he was positive might lead to something, but what on earth had ever induced the man to ask that Jamison along, too? And nobody else? Billy knew, because he had stood sulking outside the door to the captain’s quarters for fifteen minutes, divided between a desire to break in and demand the truth, and plain hunger. Hunger had won, but Billy still didn’t like the setup. He chewed moodily, scarcely aware of the quantities, wondering what on earth they could be talking about in the captain’s cabin.

The trio he was thinking of so glumly had finished their dessert; the captain’s orderly had cleared away the dishes and was bringing out the coffee when the captain cleared his throat in a manner that indicated that unfortunately the time had come to get on with the silly business to be discussed.

“Miss—”

Anita smiled brightly. “Call me Anita, Captain.”

“Thank you. With pleasure.” The captain beamed, pleased by the interruption. It seemed to him a rather shoddy business to involve a lovely young lady like this in Jamison’s scheme, but it was either that or the strong possibility of a few days on the carpet in New York. He sighed and motioned the orderly to bring cigars and brandy, and then turned back to the girl. Best to get on with it and get it over with. “Well, Anita, the fact is this gentleman here, Mr. Jamison, is with the United States Government. He... well, he would like your help.”

Anita looked at Jamison curiously. Throughout the dinner she had felt there was something faintly familiar about the man, and now it came to her. This was the man in the perfectly awful clothes who had been sitting with Kek in the 66 Roof when Billy Standish, for reasons never disclosed either at the time or since, had walked over and hustled the man around a corner, to return a few moments later dusting his hands. This could be very interesting. She looked at the captain.

“The government? My help?”

“Yes,” said the captain, pleased that the first step in the nasty business was over with. He poured himself a brandy and then suddenly remembered his manners, offering it to Anita. She shook her head and waited. The captain didn’t bother to offer anything to Jamison, but drank his drink. “Well,” he said, “you see—” He paused, sighed, and turned to his left. “Possibly you’d better explain...”

“I think it would be best,” Jamison said coldly, and looked at Anita in his most official manner. In his evening clothes he knew he cut a distinguished figure, and he wanted his voice to be equally impressive. “Anita, I am with the Treasury Department of the United States Government. There is, on this ship, a man who is an international smuggler—”

“No!” Anita’s eyes widened in alarm; her hand automatically went to her throat, as if to protect the small, heart-shaped locket there. Had Billy Standish seen the gesture, it is almost sure he would have instantly abandoned his charcoal-broiled sirloin, medium, with mashed potatoes and peas on the side, to go to her rescue, but fortunately for his appetite he was unable to.

Jamison smiled a fatherly smile; had Billy seen it he would have called it wolfish

“No, no! There’s nothing to worry about. It’s simply that you can be useful to us in helping to trap him. And/or his accomplice.”

Anita sounded more horrified than ever. “He has an accomplice?”

“We’re not positive, but we’re fairly sure.” Jamison made it sound as if there were files upon files of proof merely awaiting someone’s inspection. “However, with your help—”

“My help?” Anita repeated. She had never looked or sounded so helpless in her life.

“Yes,” Jamison said firmly, and got down to business. “This man — his name is Huuygens, by the way — and a second man who boarded here at Barbados just this morning — his name is André Martins — are the two we are talking about. They stole a valuable carving — a Chang Tzu — but never mind — from the National Gallery on the island of Ile Rocheux the night before last, and they intend, one or the other, to take it past Customs in the United States when we dock.” Jamison’s jaw tightened in manly determination; his eyes became as steely as he could make them, challenging John Wayne at his best. “Or, rather, they intend to try. I intend to stop them.” He added, a bit weakly, “With your help, of course.”

“Terrible people,” Anita murmured and looked at him wonderingly. “But what can I possibly do to help?”

“It is necessary to have their cabins searched—”

“You are suggesting that I—”

“No, no!” Jamison wished he could remember exactly how he had practiced this conversation. “What I mean is,” he said patiently (after all, this was just a young woman who had little experience of life), “we need someone to keep these two men occupied while the security officer of the ship, together with myself, go through their things.” He hastened to correct any possible misapprehension. “It isn’t that I have any physical fears of the consequences of being interrupted, but we have gone to great lengths to prevent these men from knowing we suspect them at all, and we don’t want their suspicions aroused at this stage of the game. Do you understand?”

“I... I think so. You wish me — to act — how do you say? As a decoy for these men?” If Jamison could speak in fits and starts, so could she, Anita thought.

“Not a decoy,” Jamison explained, trying not to sound testy. “All you would have to do would be to allow one or both of them — both of them, preferably — to buy you drinks. Would that be so hard?”

“If they were decent, upright people, no,” Anita said, and looked him evenly in the eye. “But what you are suggesting is not nice. You have already told me these are hardened criminals.”

Jamison bit his lip. “They are not hardened criminals! They are—” A thought came. “Well, actually you know one of them. He’s the man whom you stumbled against the second day out, remember? The day we were passing Cape Hatteras? The one who bought you a drink.”

Anita’s finely chiseled nostrils flared with contempt. “That one! The things he said!”

“Then all the more reason for helping us put the man in prison, where he belongs,” Jamison said reasonably, pleased with his argument and already phrasing it in his mind for his final report together with his other acts of brilliance.

The captain felt he ought to say something; he wanted to get the whole silly matter finished and done with. “It’s for the government,” he added simply. He had a sudden feeling that if he explained to Anita about the green peppers and the tomatoes, she would understand and be only too willing to help, but it was doubtful if Jamison would have considered the argument consistent with governmental dignity.

Anita considered the matter carefully, a slight frown on her face.

“But you see,” she said, “I slapped him. Very, very hard. And with good reason. How could I now explain to him why I would allow him to buy me a drink?” She suddenly smiled and clapped her hands. “I know! I will tell him I am very sorry I lost my temper. I will tell him a pleasure cruise is no place to carry a grudge.” Her newly acquired animation faded; she looked at Jamison anxiously. “Do you think he’ll believe me?”

“He’ll believe you,” Jamison said confidently, and poured himself a carefully measured brandy.

The captain remained silent, his large hand twisting his empty brandy glass against the smoothness of the table linen. He was not overly pleased that a lovely young lady such as this should be involved in the first place, but once this objection was overcome, he had to admit that Jamison’s choice of a decoy was excellent. Anyone refusing to spend time with Anita had to be very sick, indeed.

“And this other one,” Anita went on brightly. “This—”

“Martins. André Martins.”

“If you point him out to me I will stumble into him, too. But this time on purpose.” Anita suddenly giggled. Jamison was pleased to see her getting into the spirit of the adventure. Suddenly the girl looked anxious again. “But wouldn’t it be better if I handled them one at a time? After all, two men...” She smiled modestly. “One of them might feel chivalrous and leave...”

“True,” Jamison admitted. This girl had brains as well as beauty; it was a pity that whoever hired the Department’s personnel in Washington never seemed to hire anyone like her. “On the other hand,” he went on, considering the matter from every angle, “if the two men are confederates, as I feel sure they are, one might come visiting the other’s cabin while we were searching it. No, I think it best that you keep the two of them hors de combat at the same time.” His French pronunciation was terrible. “Can you do it?”

Anita looked at him earnestly. “I can try.”

“Good!” Jamison said heartily. He had no doubt of success. “Shall we say just before lunch tomorrow? Eleven o’clock? You see” — he dropped his voice conspiratorially, although the orderly had long since gone down to watch the movie — “I’ve made a study of my cabin to detect the possible hiding places for an object the size of the one our man stole. There are remarkably few, so that I should say thirty minutes per cabin should be ample.” He glanced at his watch; for a moment Anita thought he was going to ask her to synchronize hers with his. “I shall take the Martins cabin first; say, from eleven to eleven thirty; then this Huuygens’ from eleven thirty until noon. If you can keep them occupied for that hour?”

“I’ll do my best,” Anita promised.

“I’m sure your best will be more than ample. Well, we’re all set, then. Captain, thank you for your cooperation. I’ll be in touch with your security officer in the morning.” He glanced at his watch again. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go down and study my cabin once more. In my line of work, one leaves nothing to chance.” He smiled at them both paternally, and rose to his feet.

André Martins was far from unfamiliar with cruise ships and their general characteristics; he had carried thousands of pieces of luggage aboard, delivering them to hundreds of staterooms, in his days as a porter on the Barcelona and Lisbon docks. Nor was he unfamiliar with the other niceties of shipboard life. True, this was the first time he had been on the stool side of a shipboard bar, and the night before had been the first time he had pulled down a bedspread for the end purpose of climbing between the sheets and going to sleep in all that luxury. But in his day he had made enough of those beds and served enough of those drinks. And as for tips, that ever-present bugaboo of the traveler, André could have taught the most experienced. He had received the smallest and the largest in his time, and was prepared to outstare any shipboard employee who doubted his judgment.

His large fingers dwarfing the glass in his hand, he sat swiveled about, looking out at an extraordinarily calm sea, glistening peacefully beneath an azure and cloudless sky. Beneath his feet the steady faint vibrations of the engines driving them steadily forward felt comfortable and familiar. He smiled to himself, pleased with life, and raised his glass to his lips; then choked as someone bumped into him, dashing brandy up his nose. He sneezed mightily and then turned, prepared to deal with this rudeness in the only way, he felt, some people understood. And found himself facing an extremely apologetic young lady.

“I’m terribly sorry!” Anita said, and picked up a napkin, dabbing it at the damp red face before her. André took it away from her and completed the job of drying himself. The girl looked at him solicitously. “You must let me buy you another drink to take its place.”

André merely stared at her. She knew very well she shouldn’t be speaking to him, and Anita usually knew what she was doing. Bumping into him like that on a day as calm as this one certainly was no accident. Anita accepted his silence as agreement, and nodded to the waiting bar steward.

“Another one for the gentleman, whatever he was drinking. And an orange juice with vodka for me.” She smiled apologetically at the speechless André. “I’m going to take my drink at a table. Perhaps you would like to join me there?”

“Now, look—” André began in a low growl intended to avoid the steward’s hearing, but Anita had already moved to a table far from the bar and seated herself. There was nothing to do but follow. He climbed down, walked over, and sat across from her. “This is very foolish. Kek said—”

“Oh,” Anita said brightly, “speaking of that, do you know where he is?”

“He was out by the pool a few minutes ago, but I wouldn’t—”

“Hold my seat, will you? And don’t go away.” It was said with a touch of demureness, but André, looking into those steady eyes, read the message. He sighed and watched her get up and head for the outside area.

The poolside was crowded with bathers, either paddling as best they could in the restricted space of the pool, or draped about the deck soaking up as much sun as possible, almost as if New York in July had no sun. Kek was lounging easily at the railing, watching several men with shotguns trying to bring down clay pigeons being mechanically ejected from a lower deck, a sport he was sure all of them would consider childish on land. At an entrance to the main saloon, Anita caught a glimpse of Jamison, looking rather worried; beside him a large, uniformed man gazed stolidly out to sea. Jamison relaxed at the sight of Anita and tapped his companion on the arm; the officer swung about and also watched the girl’s progress through the crowd. Anita stopped before Kek and looked up at him with an enticing smile, speaking under the noise about them.

“Hello.”

The slightly questioning frown that appeared on Kek’s face disappeared in almost the same instant. “Hello. What are you doing here?”

“I’m apologizing for having slapped you — when was it? Last week? And in return for my apology you can take me into the bar and have a drink with André and me. I bumped into him, too, but he didn’t say anything improper, so I didn’t slap him.” She took his arm. “Come along quietly, darling. We’ve already ordered.”

Kek forced himself to remain calm, although at the moment there was nothing he would have liked to do as much as turn Anita over his knee and spank her. He walked beside her quite casually. Anita noticed that Jamison and his uniformed companion had disappeared. The two came into the bar, appearing to be chatting about inconsequential matters, and then were seated at the table where André had been waiting. Kek ordered a drink and went through the fiction of introducing himself to the other man while it was being prepared. Then, with a small brandy glass in hand, he raised it. To anyone watching it would appear he was offering a toast, but his words and tone would have dispelled that notion quickly.

“Just which one of you two is responsible for this ridiculous meeting?” he asked, his smiled fixed, his voice dangerously quiet.

“Not me—” André began hastily.

Anita touched her glass to his. “I am, darling. I’m merely following orders. You see, I’ve become a government agent.”

Despite his iron control, Kek could not help but stare. “A what?”

“Keep smiling, darling. Drink your drink. I said, I’ve become a government agent. A spy of sorts, you might say. Of course I don’t get paid for this job, but in the future I imagine I could ask for a fee. This is more or less training, I suppose—”

“Will you please tell me—”

“Right now. You see” — Anita became serious — “last night I had dinner in the captain’s quarters, and there was a man there named Jamison who is — a G-man, I think they call him. Anyway, he told me there was a dangerous smuggler on board, with another man he was sure was the smuggler’s confederate, and he wanted to search their cabins, but in order to do so without being unpleasantly interrupted, he needed some way to keep them occupied while he went through their luggage and drawers and things like that.” She smiled. “My job is to occupy you from now until noon.”

André’s face had hardened. He threw his drink down his throat and started to rise, his huge hands opening and closing, but Kek put a hand on the large man’s massive arm and urged him back into his seat.

“Relax,” he said, and sipped his drink. He put it down and looked at Anita, his eyes twinkling. “Go on.”

“That’s it, darling. I thought you’d want to know. I’m supposed to keep you here drinking until noon, and time is passing, so if either one or both of you would like to get down to your cabins before he musses up all your clothes—”

“And be responsible for your failing on your very first assignment?” Kek sounded shocked. “They’d drum you out of the corps, and you wouldn’t get that raise, either. Besides,” Kek added, “what would Max say if he heard you couldn’t keep the attention of two men for a mere hour? He’d think your attraction was only a flash in the pan, and then what of all your hopes when Rose and I go off with the grandchildren?”

André was looking confused by the entire exchange. Anita was also frowning in surprise at Kek’s attitude. She went on slowly.

“Jamison also said he’s made a complete study of possible hiding places in shipboard cabins — he looks the type — and he’s sure he can do a complete search of each cabin in half an hour. André is scheduled first and then you’re next, from eleven thirty until noon.” She looked at Kek anxiously. “Are you sure neither one of you has anything you don’t want him to find?”

“‘My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure,’” Kek quoted a bit sententiously. “Tennyson.” He winked at Anita and sipped.

“I’m going down and show this character my strength!” André said fiercely.

“There’s a security officer with him,” Anita warned.

“Good! I’m in the mood—”

“Sit down, André,” Kek said, and pushed the other back. He smiled. “Let the boys have their fun. After all, if a man’s profession is searching, he has to take his practice wherever he can find it. Besides, you don’t have anything to hide, do you?” He thought a moment. “Except those shirts you bought yesterday?”

“But—”

“Besides,” Kek went on, “the poor man has been manhandled so often on the case so far, I’m beginning to feel sorry for him. And he’s only been manhandled by amateurs so far. Let the poor soul alone.”

André sank back, confused. Anita looked at Kek ruefully.

“And I thought I was being so clever about the whole thing.”

“You were, sweet, you were. And deserve another drink for your successful efforts. The one thing I hate to see,” Kek admitted sadly, “is a thirsty spy. And, of course, the thirsty victims of a thirsty spy. So why don’t we all have another round of drinks and wait calmly for noon to come around, when we can have lunch? Just in case Mr. Jamison isn’t quite as rapid as he thinks he is?”

He raised an arm for the waiter.