Oddly enough, the fact that the building was lit up like a hospital ship in a war zone seemed to dispel Kek’s displeasure with the way things had been going that evening. He stared up at the lighted building, a smile beginning to crease his lips.
“Well, well!” he said winking at André. “How’s your island French?”
“My what?”
“Can you do the accent they’re afflicted with down here? After all,” Kek pointed out logically, “you’ve been here two weeks, and all I’ve had to practice on was Girard’s few words.” He considered his statement and amended it. “Well, not exactly few.…”
“Not me,” André said positively, and shook his head. “They talk as if they were eating at the same time. Why?”
Kek disregarded the question. “Well, in that case keep quiet and let me do the talking.”
“Talking to who?”
“To anybody. Try to merely look intelligent, or at least prosperous.”
Things were getting confused as far as André was concerned. “What do you mean? How do you look prosperous?”
“By not looking poor, of course. Let’s go.”
He started across the street. André stood a moment, wondering what their conversation had been all about, and then realized where Kek was heading. He sprang after him, grabbing his arm.
“Kek, Kek! Where do you think you’re going?”
Huuygens surveyed him companion calmly. “Into the building, of course. That’s why we came here. Up to the third floor.” He looked up at the building and sighed. “Probably by foot. I doubt they have elevators.”
“But there are people up there!” André sounded as if any building infested with people should call an exterminator.
“Of course there are people up there—it saves us the trouble of breaking and entering, which is against the law.” Kek paused, thinking. “I wonder if merely entering is against the law? I shouldn’t think so. I’ll have to check that some day. The things one has to know if one is to become a successful professional thief! Frightening!” He smiled at André in kindly fashion. “Ah, well. Let’s go.”
André stared at Kek a moment, shrugged philosophically, and followed. Who was he to question Kek Huuygens? Although he would have sworn that breaking into an office that had people in it was basically a poor operation, at least in theory.
They crossed the street, pushed into the empty lobby, discovered—as Kek had anticipated—that elevators were a needless luxury in the edifice, and began to climb the stairs. At the third floor Kek consulted a small directory mounted at the landing, and led the way to the office they wanted. Through the frosted glass brilliant illumination could be seen. Kek winked at André and turned the knob, nor did he appear at all surprised to find the door opening under his touch. André swallowed and followed.
The outer office was empty, the receptionist’s desk abandoned. Still, they could see lights pouring from the various offices into a central corridor. André looked about nervously and then bent down, whispering into Kek’s ear. He tried to be as silent as he could about it, but to his own ears he seemed to be shouting.
“Kek, this is insane! Let’s get out of here!”
Huuygens smiled at him and pushed through the little swinging gate that separated the waiting area from the offices proper. He walked down the hallway, poked his head into the first doorway, shook it in disappointment, and marched farther along the corridor. André, more convinced by the moment that his old friend was dealing from a short deck, followed, prepared to at least save the other from his own folly, if hitting someone on the head was enough to do it.
At the third office Kek apparently found what he had been looking for, which had to be the people André had so correctly stated were on the premises. André saw a big smile light up Kek’s face, and heard an unbelievably correct imitation of the island accent issuing from the other’s lips.
“Ah, madame—working hard, I see. Well, I shall not disturb you. It is simply that M’sieu Paquet wishes me to show this client the plans for his new home. We outside salesmen have no hours! No, no, that’s perfectly all right. Go right ahead with your cleaning. If you finish before we’re through, you can leave. I’ll lock up.”
He smiled and continued down the hallway, with André on his heels. As the big man passed the small office he saw an elderly woman on her knees, scrubbing the parquet floor; she didn’t bother to raise her head at his passage. Kek came at last to the room he wanted, a large drafting room with wide drawing-files in one corner. The cleaning woman had obviously done the room, for the entire arrangement was incredibly neat, with dust covers on all tables, all drafting machines at precisely the same angle, all gooseneck lamps arched to the same degree. Even the wastebaskets, now empty, occupied equivalent locations beneath each table. Kek nodded.
“Let us hope their filing system is equally neat.”
He walked over, studied the lock on the first drawer, tried it, and smiled as the drawer slid open. “My, my! What security! On the other hand, I don’t suppose many people go around stealing architect’s drawings. The resale market must be rather limited.…”
André let out the breath he had been holding, it seemed to him, for several hours. “Kek, you’re incredible! How did you know it would just be a cleaning woman up here?”
Huuygens looked up from the file, surprised.
“Who else would account for all the lights being on in the whole building? One light here or another there could mean someone working late, or a meeting, or something on that order, but all the lights on in all the different offices? They probably have women working in the other offices in the building right now; when they finish they’ll go to another building.” He stopped to frown. “That wouldn’t be a bad method of robbing a place,” he said thoughtfully. “Break in and instead of stumbling around with a flashlight, turn on every light in the place. Ah, well, maybe another time.…” He turned back to the file. “Museum, museum …”
“Gallery,” André said, wanting to contribute at least something to the evening’s endeavor.
“That’s right, I forgot. Here we are. Well, well. One full drawer, just for the security system. And I would be willing to bet,” he went on, “that the duplicate copies of these security drawings held by the army in their barracks are in a safe inside of a safe inside of a safe!” He shook his head humorously. “How it goes! Well, let’s hope most of these are detail drawings; I’d hate to have to wade through all of them to find what we want. We don’t have all night.”
He leafed through the vellum sheets, noting the titles in each bottom right-hand corner; then, with a nod of triumph he pulled one out.
“Here we are. ‘Basement Electrical—General Layout.’ Let’s have some better light on it.” He carried it to one of the drafting tables, laid it flat, and pulled the gooseneck lamp over, flicking the switch. “That’s better. All right, André, where are we?”
André bent over the drawing.
“Let’s see. Yes. This must be that little room I came into first, where they have the junk and the repair shop. And this is the corridor, and here are the steps.” He looked at Kek. “We ought to have the first-floor plan, too, to see where the floor alarms are.”
“We know where the floor alarms are,” Kek said reasonably. “All around the carving case. What we want is the power source, and that should be on this drawing.”
They bent over the vellum again. André checked the list of symbols neatly printed on the edge of the drawing and then returned to his study. His heavy finger came down.
“Here we are. These are the mains coming in from the street. They go to this box, here. If this thing isn’t just schematic, it would be in the basement corridor. Those would be the main fuses.”
Kek nodded. “Fine! That’s what we want. Is there anything there indicating telephones?”
“They wouldn’t be on this, but it ought to be easy enough to trace those from the nearest telephone pole.”
“True. By the way, do you remember
seeing that fuse box in the corridor when you were there?”
André grinned. He was feeling better.
“On the way in I wasn’t looking, and on the way out I didn’t have time for any sight-seeing. But if it shows on the plan, there isn’t any reason why it shouldn’t be there.”
“True enough.” Kek carried the drawing back to the cabinet. He replaced it in its proper numerical position, closed the drawer, and returned to the drafting table. The gooseneck lamp was arched into its original position and Kek stepped back.
“Good enough. Step one completed, more or less. Shall we go?”
“For a beer?”
“Later!” Kek said firmly.
“All right,” André responded with remarkable tractability. The fact was that after the incredible ease with which they had entered the architect’s office and gotten the information they wanted, André had been convinced that robbing the museum—gallery, that was—would present no great problem. Although he had no idea of what Kek planned to do, his faith was high; now all he wanted was to get it over and get back to the brandy aboard the Beachcomber. He looked at Kek admiringly. “How come you never went in for this sort of thing before? You have a flair for it.”
Kek looked at André soberly.
“I’m not so sure I have,” he said quietly, “and I sincerely hope I don’t find out I don’t before tonight is over!”
9
“It is the height of simplicity,” Huuygens observed. There was an assurance to his voice he was far from feeling. “If the idiots who designed the building had simply put the toilets in the basement, where they are in any other self-respecting museum, all we’d have to do is wait for one of them to visit the place. But since they didn’t, we’ll have to do it this way. We make enough noise to make the guards suspicious. One comes to investigate—” He raised his shoulders. “Voilà.”
The two men were strolling along the main street, their words lost in the cacophony about them. André’s interest in the conversation was such that even the soft calls from the bar doorways did not register on his consciousness. He listened to the words of his old friend and found them highly dubious.
“And if both guards come down to investigate our little noise?”
“All the better,” Kek said positively, and mentally crossed his fingers. “We simply take them, tie them up, lift the carving, and trot back to our little boat. Without, I might mention, stopping for any beer. Fini.”
André retreated. “And if only one comes downstairs?”
“As I said, we disarm him—”
“And if he yells?”
“We do our best to see he does not yell.” Kek held up his hand at once. “I don’t mean that the way I have a feeling you might think I do, if you know what I mean.”
“No,” André said honestly.
“I’m not surprised. It wasn’t well put. I mean, you hold his mouth and then we tape it up. Or, if absolutely necessary to prevent an outcry, I suppose you could knock him out, or something. But only as a last resort. And as gently as possible.”
“Gently?”
“I said, as possible. The less violence the better. I don’t want anyone hurt, that’s rule number one.”
“Including us.” André was in complete agreement. “Let’s make that rule zero. Or even minus one.”
“Fair enough. However,” Kek pointed out, “since we’re the aggressors, the burden of being careful falls on us. I don’t mind becoming a burglar—well, I do, but never mind—what I mean is I don’t want to end up being anything beyond that. Is that clear?”
André nodded. “So we have the first one tied up and gagged—because we don’t have any tape—and his partner comes down to find out what is taking the first one so long. And then we take him, too. Is that the idea?”
“In general, yes. And we do have tape. I have it in my pocket.”
André considered him admiringly. “You think of everything!” His face shifted to a small frown as he returned to considering the night’s work ahead. “But what if, when the first guard doesn’t return upstairs, instead of coming down to find out what happened, the second guard simply calls for reinforcements?”
“We intend to cut the telephone wires first, remember?”
“But what if he calls by walkie-talkie?”
“Then we run as fast as we can,” Kek said sourly. “You keep going on and on about walkie-talkies. What makes you think they have walkie-talkies? Did you see any on the daytime guards when you were in there?”
“No,” André admitted. He had been pleased with his role as devil’s advocate, but he was ready to be quitted of it. “Anyway, even if they have them we’ll be able to see them before we start anything. Like I told you, you can get a perfect look at that room through the railing from that alcove on the stair landing. You’re in the dark and they’re in the light. If they’ve got walkie-talkies, we’ll see them. Worse comes to worse, we can revise our plans—”
“Worse came to worst a long time ago,” Kek said shortly. “What the devil are we doing here, anyway?”
“Saving my neck,” André said quietly. “Or did you think I didn’t know?”
Kek glanced over at his large friend, surprised as always at the sharp insight André exhibited at times.
“Only partially. There’s still the matter of my bet with Girard.” He changed the subject. “Anyway, it’s the best idea I can come up with. Also the only one. I admit it lacks finesse. As a matter of fact, it’s a terrible plan, an awful plan, and I don’t like it at all. The only thing is I don’t have a better one. Do you?”
“No.”
“Then let’s get on with this museum-breaking, shall we? It’s late and I’m getting tired.”
“Gallery-breaking,” André said, always the stickler, and led the way in the proper direction.
The Ile Rocheux Gallery of Art, pride of the island and home of the Chang carving, “The Village Dance,” was located at the end of a narrow park on the opposite side of the city from Sucker Street, but since Cap Antoine was not all that big, the distance was not all that great. It was, however, far enough from the harbor hubbub to save it from the raucous noise, as well as from many pedestrians at that hour of the morning. André and Kek, approaching circumspectly from the path which the rear wall of the gallery faced, were suitably impressed by the deserted area, lit only by a lone streetlight, as well as by the welcome silence; nor did their rope-soled deck sneakers disturb it.
André paused, looked about, and a moment later had pushed through the tall bushes that formed the rear boundary of the gallery grounds. Kek waited only long enough to note no objection to the surreptitious entry into the grounds, and then followed.
André was standing in the deep shadows of the side wall, looking up. Above his head a telephone cable looped itself gracefully from a street pole, clung to the wall by means of a clip, and then dropped down on cleats to disappear through a small pipe into the building. The point of entry was well within André’s reach. He looked about and then reached upwards swiftly. One powerful snip and he was back in position, all in one motion. They waited tensely for several minutes to see if anyone might burst from the building to investigate. No one did. Kek nodded, pleased that nobody had been talking to his girlfriend on company time; he liked to see dedication to duty. On the other hand it was very possible they were so used to having the phone service cut off that they assumed it was normal. He tapped André on the shoulder, pointed toward the back, and nodded.
André looked around and then edged his way to the rear corner of the large edifice. He crouched, peered carefully about the edge, and then straightened up, motioning to Huuygens. Another second and he had disappeared.
Kek made the corner in a quick, silent sprint, turned it, and almost fell down the steep stairwell André had described. He caught his balance and edged downward, glaring at André. In the faint light of the streetlamp angling into the areaway, Kek could see the look of embarrassment on the big man’s face.
&
nbsp; “I forgot to tell you it was so close, didn’t I?” André whispered.
Kek put his finger to his lips and pointed to the lock. André nodded and turned. He brought out his flashlight, flicked it on, held the beam on the lock for the briefest of moments and then flicked it off. A smile appeared on his face.
“It’s that same lock,” he said in a pleased whisper. “I can open it blindfolded.”
Kek nodded, agreeably surprised as always when confronting economy in government; a more profligate administration might well have changed locks after a suspected burglary attempt, but not those in charge of the Ile Rocheux Gallery. He hoped it might indicate equal inattention on the part of the guards to other criminal possibilities.
There was a light scraping of metal on metal, then silence for several moments. Kek was about to suggest that André put on a blindfold if that would help, when the large man tested the knob and then swung the door wide to disappear inside. Kek followed, closing the heavy door behind him. In the complete blackness of the windowless room he was suddenly aware of his breathing; it seemed to his sensitive ears to sound like a subway train on an express run. He was sure that the guards had to hear it, even through the heavy door, the fifty feet of corridor, and the thick floor that separated them.
He brought out his flashlight and switched it on. To his surprise his breathing no longer seemed to be making such a deafening racket. He promised himself to investigate this phenomenon some day, but not tonight. He swung the light about. As André had indicated, the area seemed to combine the services of storage room with workshop. Large stone figures were placed haphazardly about in the crowded space, making it look like some street scene in an ancient Arawak village. A bench along one wall was apparently used either to make repairs or for assembly of the large statues. A torso reclined on it, patiently awaiting legs and arms, the stone eyes staring calmly at the ceiling. On the far side of the room the door to the corridor was closed.
“The first thing we do,” Kek said quietly, “is to move these figures out of the way. I want a clear straight line between the two doors. If we have to leave in a hurry—and in the dark—I don’t want to run head-on into one of these stone giants. I’ve had enough of that sort of thing tonight as it is.”
The Wager Page 10