The Wager

5

The MV Andropolis, 22,000 tons of luxury liner only two years out of the Yokahama shipyards, with Athenian ownership, Panamanian registry, and an Italian crew that spoke a far superior brand of English than most Athenian-owned vessels carrying Panamanian registry, was having a hard time of it. Cape Hatteras was in one of its moods. While the young lady at the All-Ways Travel Agency had been reasonably correct in stating that July days were superbly suited to sailings from New York, today the Cape had decided to make a mockery of her words. The stabilizing gyroscopes were working like mad to cope, lashing themselves silly, but Hatteras, even though almost behind them, was easily the superior to a few oversized power-driven tops.

As a result the pool was closed and netted over, the shuffleboard equipment locked away, and the sun had given up any attempt to penetrate the lowering steel-gray clouds. Those passengers who sought relief in the interior bars had to divide their time between trying to prevent their glasses from skidding down the bar, and dabbing at their neckties with napkins; those passengers on deck were slouched morosely in deck chairs, rolling with the ship, while blue-jacketed stewards tried to interest them in bouillon or apples, or brought stronger fare to the more discriminating or to those with fitter digestions.

The advantage of being on deck, of course — to any male passenger, that is — was the sight of Anita striding briskly along the tilted deck, keeping her balance with ease, the wind whipping her short hair and bringing a bright flush of health to the pert face. The wind also molded her loose blouse to her full figure to best advantage, and every man watching — or at least every man unattached, even if only for the trip — was wondering wondrous thoughts. The passenger list for the cruise had not left the print shop as yet, but each man knew, mainly from plying the assistant purser with drinks the afternoon before, that the lovely lady prefixed her name with “Miss” and that she was traveling alone.

True, she had been equally pleasant with one and all in the lounge after the ship had sailed, but each man knew it would take an exceptionally brilliant approach to garner this flower for his personal bouquet. So, when the lovely lady suddenly and inexplicably lost her balance and caromed into the legs of the only man on deck who had not been paying her attention — since he seemed to prefer leaning on the rail and watching the huge waves fight each other — every other man within eyesight of the incident mentally kicked himself for not having been at that particular spot at that exact moment.

“You are careless,” Kek murmured, and helped Anita to her feet. He restrained an impulse to brush the perfect figure; the gallery might have misunderstood. “Did you want to see me about something?”

“You are a dog,” Anita said simply, and smiled brightly for the benefit of the doleful watchers. “It was about the only way to get your attention. How long did you think I was going to wait until you arranged a proper introduction to me?”

Kek smiled. “To be honest, I was going to trip you up on your next round of the deck. However, now that you so cleverly managed the affair, may I buy you a drink to calm your jangled nerves?”

Anita’s smile thanked him for his aid, but her voice was grim.

“I don’t know if you’re telling the truth or not, darling,” she said under her breath, “but you are going to be buying me drinks for the rest of the trip, if I have to jangle my nerves every hour on the hour.”

She allowed herself to be led helpfully to a table alongside the bulkhead that separated the outdoor pool area from the interior saloon where the cruise directoress was giving Italian lessons to a group of pale women passengers who were wishing they had foregone breakfast. Anita sat down and watched Kek take a chair across from her.

“You may have noticed,” she said conversationally, “that you are not the only man on board. With a little effort, I’m sure I could manage other company, if you prefer.”

“And break Max’s heart?” Kek shook his head sadly at this lack of constancy, and waved for a steward.

Anita smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Max could find a reason to join the ship at Miami, if I cabled him.”

“Without a doubt,” Kek agreed. “But with Rose.”

“You could have Rose.”

“Not without the grandchildren,” Kek said firmly, and then paused at the arrival of the steward. He started to order and then stopped abruptly, looking at Anita. “I beg your pardon, miss—”

“Call me Anita.”

“With pleasure. What would you prefer, Anita?”

“I’ll have a brandy, please.”

“Good!” Kek said in complete agreement, and turned to the waiting steward. “Two Dom Pedro Segundos, please. Not in balloon glasses.” He waited until the steward had noted the order and left and then shook his head with a slight frown. “I’m getting careless.”

“Careless?”

“I almost ordered for you without asking.”

A small frown creased Anita’s forehead, instantly erased. She smiled widely for the benefit of the audience. “What difference does it make? Actually, why all the mystery of our knowing each other?”

“A hunch that it’s better this way,” Kek said pleasantly.

Anita was aware of Kek’s hunches, and of the fact that usually they were based on more than mere presentiment.

“Do you think somebody may be watching you?”

Kek laughed, as at a joke.

“I have no idea; just a feeling.” His smile changed to a normal expression of a man doing his best to put across a line with a pretty girl. “I honestly can’t see what Girard would gain by putting a tail on me; he knows very well I’m not going to run away with his precious carving. And as far as I know, nobody else is even aware that I’m on this cruise.” A second thought followed the first, this one more logical. “He might, of course, put someone on me for what he considers my own protection — or, rather, for the protection of the carving. Another in his corps of bodyguards, to make sure nobody taps me on the head and takes it away from me.”

“I like the idea of a bodyguard better,” Anita said, and smiled her relief.

“Except I don’t particularly like being watched by anyone, including those with friendly motives.” Kek smiled and leaned back. “Well, enough of fantasy and worry. This is supposed to be a pleasure cruise. Why don’t we—” He paused as a steward approached their table, frowning slightly, since this one wore a white jacket rather than a blue one, and further because this one was not bearing drinks. “Yes?”

“Signore Huuygens? A radio-telephone for the signore. In the radio shack on the bridge deck.”

“Thank you.” Kek came to his feet. He looked down at Anita. All about them male faces evinced sudden hope at this sign of their rival parting so quickly; the faces fell again as the deck steward came up and deposited two drinks on the table. It appeared, worse luck, that the separation was only to be temporary. Kek, his broad shoulders masking his face from the audience, winked down at Anita. “Don’t drink mine while I’m gone.”

“Then don’t be too long. Trouble, you think?”

“I have no idea. More likely just a checkup; Girard seems to be the nervous type. And he’s the only one who knows where we are — I mean, where I am. I certainly hope he doesn’t know it’s we.”

“But, why?”

“Because I wouldn’t like it,” Kek said flatly. “Well, I’d better go up and see what the little man has on his mind.”

Anita watched him walk away, admiring his athletic stride as always, thinking how happy she was with him, and then reached for a cigarette, her face reflecting nothing more than the normal friendly curiosity as to the handsome man who had been so kind as to forgive her clumsiness and to buy her a drink in the bargain. She managed to light her cigarette before any potential swains could leap to her assistance, suddenly conscious of the possibility that among them was one who might well be more interested in Kek than in herself. It was a reassuring thought that Kek might have a friendly bodyguard on board whether he liked it or not. She raised her cigarette and allowed the stiff breeze to take the ashes out to sea, resisting the temptation to study the faces watching to try and select which one might be also following Kek with his eyes. Interference, she knew, was one thing Kek would be slow to forgive.

On the bridge deck Kek easily located the radio shack by following arrows. The officer seated at the telegraphic console noted his name, mentioned the number of a booth, waited until Kek had wedged himself inside, and then started to fiddle with switches. As he waited, Kek thought how vulnerable a man would be in the tiny glass enclosure; memories of movies he had seen to that effect came unbidden, to be interrupted by the officer’s voice in his ear.

“Ready, Signore.”

Kek nodded, pleased to put the thought of machine guns away, and spoke into the instrument. “Hello?”

“Holà! Allô! Huuygens?”

“Speaking.”

“This is... well, you know who.” The husky voice in the accented French was identification enough, including the suspicion in it. There was a moment’s hesitation, then: “Where did we meet?”

“At the Quinleven Club in New York,” Kek said, and grinned to himself. This was the man who thought Kek’s ideas were cloak-and-dagger? “You had two friends with you, and you were wearing a bilious green suit with a blue shirt and a red tie—”

“Ah, so!” The tone was satisfied; obviously, after the first two words he had heard nothing. Kek’s grin disappeared; something must be on the man’s mind. The husky voice continued. “M’sieu, things have changed.”

Kek sighed. He had already had a feeling the call wasn’t after his good health, or to query the weather.

“Changed in what way?”

The rasping voice dropped momentarily and then came up in volume again, as if realizing that ship-to-shore connections suffered enough from static without adding to the problem by whispering.

“I have just read in the newspapers that the object we intended to purchase, unfortunately, will not be at the shop after the end of this week. After four more days, to be exact. On Friday next it is to be shipped out. A display of all the various models produced by the same manufacturer is to be sent around the world to all the trade fairs. Obviously, this fact changes our purchasing position. Do you understand what I am saying?”

It was quite clear that Girard had prepared his little speech well, and deserved a pat on the head for it, plus an apple after school, but that scarcely solved the problem.

“I understand perfectly.” Merde! So there was to be a traveling exhibit of the carvings of Chang Tzu T’sien and “The Village Dance” would leave Ile Rocheux obviously on loan, and equally obviously under guard. In just four days. “So we forget the entire matter?” Kek asked innocently. “Of course, in that case, M’sieu, you must realize that at least technically I have won our small wager. However, possibly a compromise—”

“M’sieu!” Ice, touched by that tone, would have frozen; diamonds would have shattered under its induration. “Don’t play games!”

“Sorry. I thought—”

“Will you be quiet and listen! I have checked with your shipping line. As you know, your ship docks at Port Everglades tomorrow morning fairly early. I have already contacted the salesman I spoke to you about. He will arrange, as a convenience, to withdraw this one item from the trade-fair display tomorow evening. Everything will remain as we discussed, except the salesman will be prepared to accept your offer the day after tomorrow, rather than on the day we originally planned. You will have to leave your ship at Port Everglades and fly to meet him.”

“Why can’t he merely hold it until my ship arrives on schedule?”

“Because I don’t want it that way. The salesman is — well, a salesman, after all...”

Kek smiled again. It was all right to use a thief, but don’t, for Heaven’s sake, trust him. Or at least no more than you have to. Well, it was a logical position, when one considered it.

“I understand.”

“Good. The meeting will take place, as arranged, at the same place.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I will arrange your plane flight from Fort Lauderdale,” Girard said. “Call me from there at one o’clock sharp. I’ll be waiting. It’ll give you ample time; your flight doesn’t leave until one thirty.”

“Good enough,” Kek said, and heard the receiver at the other end placed firmly onto its cradle. He hung up and sighed. Merde, again! There went half his holiday with Anita! Not to mention the discussion that undoubtedly would ensue when he told her of the change in plans. He sighed, nearly suffocating himself in the restricted space, and managed to squeeze himself from the booth. The radio operator, seeing the expression on Kek’s face, nodded in understanding.

“Bad news, Signore?” It was a rhetorical question. Seldom did good news come in by radio-telephone. He waited interestedly in anticipation of a proper answer.

“Terrible!” Kek said.

“Ah!” said the officer happily, and bent to his duties, while Kek started down the narrow companionway leading to the stairs.

He took the turn at the bottom of the stairs and paused. Through the glass of the door he could see Anita in profile, and the men at the rail and the men in deck chairs all eyeing her. It suddenly occurred to him that he should have asked Girard if he was being accommodated by a helpful assistant he didn’t want; then a more interesting question came to him. He thought about it for several moments, and then went out on deck.

The wind had dropped a bit by the time of his return, and the waves, while still battling, were doing so halfheartedly, like third-rate fighters in the final round of a club match. Kek dropped into his chair across from Anita and nodded approvingly, as would any man whose newfound date had not only waited for him, but who had also forgone her drink until his arrival. He reached for his glass, smiled at Anita both for her patience and her beauty, and raised his glass in a toast.

“Here’s luck.”

Anita crushed out her cigarette and reached for her glass, smiling brightly for the onlookers.

“What was the call all about?”

“I’ll tell you later. This is brandy time.”

“Fair enough,” Anita said cordially. She tapped her glass to his, to the extreme discouragement of the eyeing stallions champing at their bits. Obviously, the stranger had the winning ticket on an Exacta. “To a happy cruise,” Anita said, and added, “together.”

Kek had been about to sip. Instead he paused, studying Anita over the rim of his glass. “Well, you see,” he said a bit diffidently, “that’s rather difficult to drink to...”

“What do you mean?”

“You see, I’m leaving the ship at Port Everglades tomorrow...”

Anita sputtered. Into the hearts of the watchers, hope sprang anew. From the instant disappearance of the dazzling smile and from the look that replaced it on the lovely lady’s face, there was no doubt their rival had said something undoubtedly stupid and probably improper, and stood a good chance of being scratched from the race. Each man was also able to draw several secondary conclusions from the scene he was witnessing: one, that the lovely lady had a hair-trigger temper: and two, that the path to the winner’s circle was one to be ridden with great care — the track might well be mined. In fact, several of the more cautious contenders declared themselves out of the event at that moment, but that still left a sizable starting gate.

“I’ll rejoin you when the ship gets to Barbados,” Kek went on evenly, not at all intimidated by the storm signals. “You’ll only be alone for five days, and all of those are in ports. You can get some of your shopping done. You’ve never been to any of the free ports, and—”

“You just think I’ll be alone,” Anita said, steel in her voice. “Is there any reason you can dream up in exactly two seconds as to why I can’t get off the ship with you in Port Everglades? And rejoin it in Barbados with you? If it’s the extra expense,” she went on with savage sarcasm, “I can manage on my own, thank you! I’ve been saving from my household allowance!”

“A goodly virtue,” Kek agreed. “One never knows when a rainy day might come. But it really isn’t a matter of money. I still have most of your boy Max’s ten thousand.”

“I know you do. So that settles that; I’ll come with you.”

“It’s usually polite to wait until you’re asked,” Kek said gently, and waited for the explosion.

There was a moment’s silence. Every one of the breathless watchers knew that whatever their rival had said had not smoothed any ruffled feelings, and that the idiot had clearly asked for trouble. It came with a speed that no one — including Kek — had anticipated. Anita reached across the table and slapped Kek with all the force of an arm well tempered by daily exercise. The crack resounded over a startled gallery; two more watchers disqualified themselves on the spot. A deck steward started forward to prevent ship’s property from being damaged if further mayhem were contemplated by the lovely signorina, and then stopped, quite sure that any man who looked like Signore Huuygens undoubtedly could take care of himself.

Anita came to her feet with hauteur, looking down at Kek with loathing, and stalked off into the saloon. Kek shook his head, for his ears were ringing, and downed his brandy in one gulp. One of the watchers came hurrying up. He was a gangling, horsefaced man dressed in wild colors.

“Good Lord, man!” he said, barely able to keep from neighing with pleasure. “What on earth did you say to her?”

“I can’t imagine what upset her so. I merely asked her age,” Kek said simply, and reached for Anita’s untouched drink.

Through the porthole in his cabin Kek watched the edge of Florida creep closer, the startlingly white apartments along the beach of Pompano lined up evenly, as if at attention to pass the inspection of the MV Andropolis and the passengers crowding the rail drinking in the welcome sight of palm trees and flooding sunshine. And among them, Kek was sure, would be Anita, undoubtedly accompanied by one of the entries who had been so jumpy at the gate the day before.

He let the curtain fall over the porthole and dropped onto his unmade bed, frowning in thought. He disliked leaving Anita with a chip on her shoulder, but as he saw it there was nothing else to do. Only once before had he ever involved Anita in any of his jobs, and he had promised himself he never would again. Still, it was a shame when one considered it. If it hadn’t been for that call from Girard, it might well have been a most enjoyable cruise. He would have to see what he could find in Barbados that might serve as a peace offering. Something from Harrison’s, possibly?

There was a scratching at the door and he glanced over. The ship’s news, probably, being pushed beneath the portal. He came to his feet to investigate. A slim envelope carrying the ship’s crest lay at his feet. An invitation to one of the captain’s cocktail parties? Possible, since the purser’s office handled invitations, and Kek had expressly not told the purser of the planned hiatus in his trip, preferring to let them assume he had accidentally missed rejoining the ship after visiting Port Everglades. His baggage would assure them that he would eventually rejoin the cruise, and his passage was paid, so they wouldn’t really start any inquiry before their return to New York. And, of course, if anyone was keeping an eye on him, it would be good for their experience to find him missing once the ship was on its way to San Juan.

At any rate, he thought as he bent to pick up the envelope, it could scarcely be a bill. The one major advantage of traveling by ship was you didn’t get nagged by bills one at a time; they waited until you were well rested and then slugged you with them all at once.

He carried it to his bed and sat down, opening the envelope. He was actually not at all surprised to see it was in Anita’s scrawl. A final argument for going with him? Or one last verbal slap to accompany the physical one from the day before? He held it to the light from his bedside lamp.

Kek reread the note and laughed. He should have known that Anita would see through him; it was one of the many reasons he loved her. She was smart.

He took the note into the bathroom, tore it into small pieces and flushed them down the toilet. His smile disappeared as he went back into the stateroom to wait for docking, when he would leave the ship like any other cruise passenger investigating the beauties of Fort Lauderdale.

Yes, my darling, he said to Anita silently, I did want to get slapped — even though not that hard — but it was not to save you from the pawing herd. It was because I still have the feeling there is someone on board with his eye on me, and on my way down from the radio shack it suddenly occurred to me that person need not necessarily be one of Girard’s boys. In fact, it might well be someone who actively dislikes Girard, as well as those who do his chores for him. Which could well make me some sort of a target.

And I do not like you to be closely associated with targets, darling.