“Oh, darling, it’s so wonderful to be alone at last,” Hortense murmured when the kiss was over. “I’m sure everything will come back to you now.”
“Huh?”
“All the details you forgot about our honeymoon. Now that the hectic part is over, I’m sure you’ll remember them.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, my poor darling, you really are under a strain. Don’t you remember how worried you were about not recalling—” Hortense was interrupted by a discreet tapping at the door. “Who can that be?"
“Probably the Captain,” Stevkovsky told her.
“Oh, darn it. Look, I’ll just go into the bathroom and slip into something comfortable,” she whispered insinuatingly. “You get rid of him quickly, will you, darling?"
“All right.” Stevkovsky waited until she was gone and then opened the door.
“Pardon, sir. I was wondering about that crate you had in the hold,” the Captain said apologetically. “One of the crew said he heard some strange noises coming from it."
“Tell the crew to keep away from that crate. That’s an order, Captain.”
“Very well, sir. Is it all right if we lift anchor now?”
“Yes. Let’s get under way.”
The Captain started out, then paused in the doorway. “I saw you drive up, sir,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Went to fetch her yourself, did you? Well, that’s the ticket. Have to cater to them at least until the honeymoon’s over, eh?” He nudged Stevkovsky in the ribs and left.
As he closed the door behind him, the look of puzzlement was still on Stevkovsky’s face. He stood there a moment, scratching his head. His expression seemed to say that nobody was making any sense today.
Watching him, I decided to make my move. Cromwell was undoubtedly inside that crate. It would be best to rescue him before the yacht started down the river. There was no point in adding the possibility of a swim to the other dangers involved.
Pistol first, I pulled myself out from under the bed. I got to my feet fast, while Stevkovsky was still stunned by my sudden appearance. As he recognized me, he went as white as if he’d seen a ghost. From his point of view, I suppose that’s what I was.
“Is the Captain gone, darling?” Hortense’s voice called from the bathroom.
I shoved the gun against Stevkovsky’s belly and indicated that he should remain silent “Not yet,” I called back. “Take me to Cromwell.” I pushed the gun harder against his gut.
“Don’t be silly. Cromwell is dead,” he bluffed.
“I know better. Remember? Now take me to wherever you stored that crate.”
“What about her?” He jerked his thumb towards the bathroom door.
“I have to see to some things with the Captain, darling,” I called out. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Well, for Pete’s sake, hurry!” Hortense sounded annoyed.
I nudged Stevkovsky with the gun, and he preceded me out of the cabin. We went up the stairway and across the deck without seeing anyone. Finally we were down in the hold.
Spotting a crowbar, I picked it up and handed it to Stevkovsky. “Get to work,” I told him, motioning toward the packing case. ‘
He got to work prying off the boards in which the case itself was encased. I could hear movements inside it as he worked. Taking a closer look, I saw that air holes had been drilled in it.
At last Stevkovsky was finished. He stood back and lifted the cover of the case. When I saw the way Cromwell had been crammed into it, I was really shocked and angry. “You bastard!” I cursed my double. “You could have given him more room. You didn’t have to torture him.” I reached out my hand and grabbed Cromwell under one arm to help him sit up.
It was a mistake. I’d taken my eyes off Stevkovsky for just a brief instant. He was still holding the crowbar. I sensed rather than saw him swing it straight for my skull!
Flinging myself sideways, I managed to catch the blow on my shoulder. The bone snapped under the impact. Luckily, it was my left shoulder. I still had the gun in my right hand, The pain was excruciating, but I aimed it by reflex and pulled the trigger.
My face—the face of my double—-contorted with shock. A hole appeared in the forehead and blood spurted from it. Stevkovsky pitched to the floor. He was dead.
I helped Cromwell out of the packing case. He was so weak his knees kept buckling under him. My shoulder hurt like hell, but I supported him with my other arm and helped him up to the deck.
All I wanted to do now was get him off the boat. There was always the chance that Stevkovsky had accomplices among the crew. I was reasonably sure that the captain was clean, but as for the other crew members, there was no telling who might be a Russian agent.
We made it down the gangplank with no trouble. I got Cromwell behind some packing cases alongside the ship and we rested there a moment. From this vantage point, I had an up-from-under angle view of the deck as Hortense appeared.
She’d thrown a coat over the nightgown she’d donned. “Steve,” she called.
I couldn't see the Captain, but I heard him answering. “If you’re looking for your husband, I caught a glimpse of him going down to the hold with another gentleman,” he told her.
“Oh. Thank you. The hold—where is that?”
“Over there.” He must have pointed.
Silence as she vanished from view. Then a scream— loud, shocked, grief-stricken. Footsteps on the deck above. Commotion. Then the Captain supporting Hortense as she stumbled blindly back up the deck.
“Dead,” she sobbed. “I can’t believe it. On our wedding day. We didn’t even—- We had no chance to-—” She collapsed into tears.
When the commotion died down, I hustled Cromwell out of the vicinity. I didn’t know where to take him, and my shoulder hurt like hell, so I found a taxi stationed beyond the yacht basin and gave the driver the address of the cheap hotel where I’d been holing up for the past few days. The first thing I did when we were safely in my room was call Putnam and tell him to get up there with a doctor right away. The second thing I did was pour two stiff drinks for myself and Cromwell.
“Thank you, no. I never imbibe,” he told me stiffly.
“It’s for medicinal purposes,” I assured him. “Go ahead. Drink it down.”
“All right.” He drank it and made a face. I hope my wife Carrie doesn’t find out about this,” he said. “She's very active in temperance work.”
I thought back to the last time I’d seen Carrie. She’d been lying stretched out naked on the bed at the Institute, the picture of the well-satisfied woman. There sure hadn’t been anything temperate about her.
“Don’t worry. I won’t snitch,” I promised Cromwell.
"In that case -- " He held out his glass and I refilled it. “It’s just that Carrie’s such a prude,” he said apologetically as he downed it.
“I know just what you mean,” I assured him soothingly.
“Wonderful wife, though. Takes an interest in my work. Takes an interest in my hobbies. My inventions. My campaigns to eradicate vice.”
“Well, you and she will be back together again soon. Then you can go through life wiping out vice to your heart’s content.”
“Oh, I don’t know. To tell the truth, it’s too time-consuming. And sometimes Carrie can be too helpful. I mean, I wouldn’t have gotten into this whole mess if she hadn’t tried to help me by doing some investigating on her own.”
“Well, maybe this cured her. Maybe—”
There was a knock at the door. Putnam entered. He had a small crowd with him. He took charge right away. Cromwell was hustled off by two of the men. They were taking him to the Pentagon where his “better mousetrap” alloy would be turned into a formula for a metal that would greatly expedite our space program. After they’d left, Putnam had the doctor set my shoulder.