“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.”
12
Under the watchful eye of the first officer perched on a wing of the bridge and directing operations with a radio microphone, two squat tugs fore and aft skillfully nudged the MV Andropolis to its berth between an old rusty freighter and another cruise ship, whose early-morning passengers lined the rail and waved cheerfully across the water. In the background the gentle slopes of Barbados could be seen, rising evenly behind the low buildings of Bridgetown, reflecting the light from thick stands of palm and cane, with the brilliance of bougainvillea scattered among them. The first officer substituted megaphone for microphone as the tugs withdrew; under the shouted direction hawsers were thrown ashore, looped over stanchions, and the ship winched firmly to the dock. A dock crane bent down like some curious prehistoric bird, peering into the open hatchway that had appeared at the purser’s square; it picked up the gangplank in its steel beak and angled it accurately from the ship to the pier.
Anita had forgone breakfast to be on deck for the arrival. She scanned the dock closely for some sign of Kek, but the bare concrete held only a lineup of minibuses, the only passenger vehicles allowed on the dock, waiting patiently to carry shoregoing passengers to the customs shed and the long queue of waiting taxis beyond. Her young red-haired companion, for a welcome change, was not along; a physique such as his required refueling at regular intervals, and he was in the dining room just completing his third helping of breakfast.
A minibus had detached itself from the distant shed and was approaching the ship. It slowed to a stop at the foot of the Andropolis gangplank and Anita bent over to see who might emerge, certain it would be Kek. He had definitely promised to rejoin the ship here, and she would have thought he would have been as anxious to see her as she was to see him; and if there had been any change in his plans, there would have been a cable in some form or other she would have understood. But only one man emerged, dragging a heavy suitcase behind him while his other hand, with an iron grip, clutched papers that could only be passport and passage. It obviously was not Kek, and Anita was about to turn away in disappointment, when the man happened to look up. Anita’s eyes widened in surprise. It was impossible! But there he was, as large as ever, his face as battered as ever, and looking as good to her as ever. She leaned over the rail and screamed.
The face looking up found the source of the scream and frowned in complete nonrecognition. Then, the huge shoulders raised in a Gallic shrug of incomprehension and the large man lumbered up the gangplank with practiced ease. Anita turned and bumped into the red-haired youth. He grinned at her.
“What were you screaming about?”
“I thought I saw an old friend, but I was mistaken.”
“Well, don’t look so sad about it,” said the youth, pleased that no new friends were to be added at Barbados, the last stop before four lovely days of sailing home. He tilted his red thatch toward the shore. “How about going into town?”
“No,” Anita said slowly. “You go ahead, Billy. I think I’ll stay on board today.”
“Then I’ll stay here, too. Pool’s open. We’ll go swimming.”
Anita smiled; it was a smile that made Billy her slave. “You go ashore, the way you were planning. You’ve been talking about the lenses you wanted to buy here.” She put her hand on his arm. “You go get them.”
“Well … All right. But I’ll see you when I get back?”
“I’ll be here.”
“We’ll have dinner together? Separate table? I can arrange it with the dining room steward before I go—”
“If you want.”
“I want,” Billy told her, and disappeared, in a hurry to do his shopping and return as quickly as possible. Anita went back to the railing, pondering. Below, the minibuses were being crowded with shoregoing passengers, intent on spending money. A pity, Anita thought, that the beauties of the island would pass unnoticed by the huge majority, and that they would later proudly point to a bit of crockery as proof they had visited Barbados and were experts on its problems. She saw Billy join the others; he looked up, grinned, and waved. She smiled back and watched him climb inside.
Anita’s smile disappeared at once. She glanced down at the dock once more and then made her way inside. She walked down the steps to the dock below and the purser’s square, determination in her movements. There was no sign of the large man and his suitcase, but Anita had not expected there would be. Nor did she intend to ask the assistant purser, busy with papers as always in port, for any information. Instead, she walked to the bulletin board, noted the single name under the legend “Embarking At Barbados,” also noted the cabin number, and went back to the stairwell.
Deck B, Cabin 48. She walked down the corridor, but now in casual fashion, and paused outside Cabi
n 48 to search her purse for a cigarette. She pulled one out and then looked about as if to ask any approaching person for a match. There was no one in sight. Anita moved quickly to the door and rapped. There was no answer. She glanced about once again, still found herself alone, and rapped again. Again there was no answer. She paused to light her cigarette from her lighter and then walked on.
One deck above she turned into the starboard corridor, came to her cabin, and dug out her key. She unlocked the door and went in, not at all surprised to find the room occupied. André was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking a bit apprehensive.
Anita closed the door behind her, locked it, and went to sit on the small chair before the vanity. She crushed out her cigarette and crossed her arms, a danger signal to anyone who knew her well.
“If you want my honest opinion,” she said quietly, “both you and Kek have been reading too many spy stories lately. A little bit of intrigue goes a long way with me. And when I can’t even say hello to an old friend without getting the ‘cheese-it-the-cops’ sign-off, then I think we ought to rewrite the script.”
André looked unhappy. “Kek didn’t want us—”
“And, by the way, where is our friend Kek?”
“Oh, he’ll be here, don’t worry. When we came to the shed back there, he said he wanted to stay back for awhile. He said he wanted to wait and meet somebody.”
“Who?”
“All he said was it was a man in a white suit.”
“Someday,” Anita predicted grimly, “he’s going to meet two men in white suits and they’ll also have white jackets and they’ll take him and put him away. And I’ll visit him on weekends and look at him through a little window.” She sounded half-angry, half-hurt. “Why didn’t he tell me he was going to meet you?”
“Because he didn’t know,” André said honestly. “He’ll explain it to you.”
The Wager Page 13