“I’ve been eating better than I did in the Midi,” Huuygens said lightly, and then frowned. “By the way, how did you know I had a reservation here? I didn’t know myself until the day before yesterday.”
Michel shrugged to indicate the answer was too obvious to require voicing. He sipped his drink a moment and suddenly remembered his manners. “Would you like a drink?”
“Very much.” Kek came forward, poured some brandy into a glass, and then paused. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“You look very well,” Michel said, and then cocked his head. “You find Lisbon to be as beautiful and charming as you have heard?”
Kek abandoned the question; he dropped on the bed and sipped his drink. “Lisbon seems lovely, so far. I had a good cabdriver from the airport...” He paused, looking at his drink. “You know? This brandy isn’t bad.”
“Bad?” André was stung. “This is excellent. I selected it from the bar list myself. Charged to your room, of course.”
“What about your cabdriver from the airport?” Michel said idly.
“Oh. Only that he was unusual. He showed me the city without a lot of chatter. Quite rare.”
Michel smiled. “Who? Archimedes? No chatter? Normally you can’t shut his mouth with a truck-jack.” He shrugged. “I’m glad he’s finally learning to obey instructions.”
Kek’s pleasant manner disappeared. He leaned over, placing his glass carefully on the table, and then raised his gray eyes ominously, studying the smaller man. There were several moments of silence; when Huuygens spoke, his voice was steely.
“All right. I think we’ve had enough reunion. Maybe it’s about time we clarified certain things. I know you aren’t in favor of my being in Lisbon, but the fact is that I am here, and mostly with your help.” His eyes bored into the other’s. “And I don’t think I care to be spied on every minute I’m here.”
Michel’s expression did not alter in the least; his fixed smile merely became slightly derisive. “My dear Kek, my old friend, you still suffer from impetuosity. It was your trouble years ago, but I had assumed that age and experience would have cured you.” He shrugged. “Yes, Archimedes is a police driver — assigned to me, as a matter of fact. And yes, I had asked certain hotels to advise me when you cabled for reservations, this being one of them. I felt you wouldn’t want to stay at the Ritz, or the Tivoli, but rather at a smaller and more — select, shall we say? — hotel.” His eyes remained sardonic. “But what you failed to take into account was why I did it.”
Kek’s jaw remained hard. “And why did you do it?”
“Merely to be sure others were not doing the same. I spied on you, as you put it, to be sure nobody else was spying on you. Does that make sense to you?”
Kek felt his irritation drain away, replaced by his old affection and respect. He grinned a bit ruefully. “You still have the ability to put me in my place, eh? And? Was anyone else interested in me?”
“No. And I’m sure I would know. I think the word is out to leave you alone, not to hamper you.” His voice was noncommittal. “Merely because it’s assumed you’re going to be helpful.” His eyes came up. “Once you give any indication that you are going to be anything else — well, then things are going to change.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“You’re welcome.” Michel glanced at his watch. “Well, I’d like to stay and relive the old days with you two, but I’ve got to be going. And I suppose you should call your friend, he’s expecting you sometime this morning.” He set his glass aside and reached into a pocket, bringing out a card already prepared. “Here’s the good Senhor Echavarria’s address and telephone number.” His black eyes came up, fathomless, staring through Huuygens. “Just one last word at the risk of being repetitious. Since you won’t forget this foolishness, just be careful. Believe me, this man is protected.”
“I’ll remember.”
“And don’t look to me for any more help. Because you won’t get it.”
“I’ll remember that, too.”
“Good,” Michel said in a matter-of-fact voice, and came to his feet.
André followed, pulling his huge body erect with ease. “I’ll go along, too, and let you get on with it, Kek. But how about dinner tonight? Unless, of course, you’re already across the border by then, with Michel, here, on your tail...”
Kek smiled. “I doubt if anything is going to happen that fast. Dinner’s fine, but let’s make it tomorrow night instead. Meet me here at six and we can eat somewhere around here.”
“Six? In Lisbon? I’ll be here at eight tomorrow, and we can drink until the restaurants open. At ten.” His grin faded; he placed a large hand on Huuygens’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “And take good care of yourself, Kek. I should hate to think I was the cause of any trouble for you.”
Michel was at the door, holding it open. “A little late to think of that,” he said ironically. He waited until André had preceded him into the hallway, nodded to Huuygens almost formally, and softly closed the door after him.
Kek frowned at the closed panel a moment and then slowly walked to the window, staring out over the city. Well, here he was. And in a short time he would be face to face with Gruber. The vital thing, of course, was that — much as he wished to see Jadzia — she must not be present when he first met her husband. Three, he thought to himself with a grin that was almost savage, would really be a crowd at this point.
He sat on the edge of the bed, dragging the telephone closer, asking the clerk for a line and then dialing. There was a brief ring, and then the telephone was answered; it was almost as if the other party had been waiting.
“Hello?”
“Hello. I should like to speak with Senhor Echavarria.”
“Who wishes to speak with him?”
“My name is Huuygens...”
“Ah! One moment, please...”
The thickly accented voice was quickly replaced by another equally accented, but much more suave. “Ah! M’sieu Huuygens! So you are here in Lisbon! And we shall see you when?”
“Soon,” Huuygens said, and paused for a few seconds. “But alone, I think.”
“Alone? You mean Hans? But he is my servant; he is always here.”
“I do not mean Hans, m’sieu. I understand you are married and — well, I do not care to discuss business in the presence of women...”
There was a sharp chuckle from the other. “It is easy to see that you do not know my wife, m’sieu. I know she wants to meet you, and I’m sure she eventually will. However, I agree that until we come to some arrangement, it might be best if we discussed the details privately.”
“I believe so,” Kek said.
“Which makes it even more convenient, since she is gone for the morning and will not be back until after lunch. So...?”
“So I shall be there shortly,” Kek said, bobbed his head at the telephone, and then winked at it for good measure. “Until later, then, m’sieu...”
He hung up, glanced at his watch, and then at his bag lying on the bed. Time to unpack before he left? He smiled grimly. No, my friend, he said to himself; no excuses for further postponement. Besides, Jadzia — being a woman and unpredictable — might return early. Let’s get on with the job. He grimaced at the leather bag and walked quickly to the door.
9
The cabdriver who drove Kek from the Ouro Vermelho to the house in the Bairro da Boa Vista was a far cry from Archimedes, and, Kek thought with a wry smile, “cry” was certainly the proper word for it. He leaned back against the worn cushions, trying to deafen himself to a long list of complaints, and finally paid off the cab with a feeling of relief. It was not until he was standing alone before the wrought-iron gate that he appreciated how much the garrulous driver had helped him to relax during the trip.