Kek waited a moment and then spoke. “Unfortunately what, m’sieu?”
Gruber appeared to change the subject. “From your conversation of yesterday, m’sieu, it occurs to me you are undoubtedly planning on transporting the — ah, the merchandise — on a carrier that might not have proper accommodations for a lady.” He coughed diffidently. “Also, of course, Friday is a bit sooner than we had originally thought. I’m afraid my wife will not be able to... to—”
“You mean, will not be able to accompany us?”
“Exactly! She could join me — us, that is — later. There are many things she could find to do around the house.” A further thought struck Gruber, an argument possibly even more convincing. “I also imagine it might ease your problem somewhat if fewer people were involved in your travel arrangements—”
“Changing my plans every five minutes scarcely eases my problem!” Kek made no attempt to hide his irritation. He waited a few seconds and then went on, making a concession. “However, I haven’t gotten along so far that it seriously upsets anything. If that is the way you prefer it—”
“Fine! I appreciate your cooperation, m’sieu. I honestly think it would be much better this way. For all of us. I’ll call you on Thursday, then. Until then, m’sieu...” The telephone was disconnected with a soft click.
Huuygens hung up slowly. He could almost see the other man leaning back in his chair in the dim library, a wolfish grin of satisfaction on his lips. The thought brought a similar smile to his own; the smile grew to a laugh. In his mind he mentally crossed off the first item on the list he had just burned. Thanks to Gruber, it would not be necessary for him to devise some argument to prevent Jadzia from accompanying them. That had been part of the scheme, a necessary part to clear his conscience, and Gruber — dear, jealous, stupid Gruber — had been kind enough to do it for him. He came to his feet and reached for his jacket, winking at himself grimly in the mirror as he pulled it on and walked to the door with a smile.
If our friends cooperate with me as well as our enemies, he thought, and if I handle my part of the scheme properly, this thing may work out very well indeed...
The afternoon, as he had anticipated, was a busy one. To begin with, he stopped at a stationer’s shop and bought a large pad of red-edged gummed labels, all blank, a roll of transparent tape, a metal rule, and also a small bottle of marking ink, a fine brush, several packages of tissue paper, and a plastic bag of the type used for airplane travel in which to carry the other items. After the stationer’s shop, he next visited a small job-printing house in the neighborhood, where he had the gummed labels printed to his direction. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked the man to print him some business cards.
The legend that Kek produced for the printer to copy indicated that his name was Sr. Enrique Echavarria, and that he enjoyed the position of managing director of the Banco Internacional Económica of Madrid. The printer, a young man with far more important matters on his mind, gave no particular thought to the routine request, but set the type and went to work. Huuygens, waiting at a window and watching the traffic go by, considered with pride the name of the bank he had chosen. If there isn’t a bank with that name, he thought with an inner smile, there certainly should be; it sounds so beautifully substantial!
His next stop was at an automobile rental agency in the Avenida da Republica. The business cards he had just had printed — together with his distinguished appearance — worked their magic, and in a short while the necessary papers had been signed, a suitable deposit given, and he drove from the agency in a carefully selected sedan of demonstrated power. It was not, he realized, as flashy a car as Jadzia’s, but he was sure it would probably excite far less notice.
His next move was postponed until he was well away from the agency; had he made it there it might well have aroused curiosity. He drove into the park across from the hotel, selected a rather deserted drive, drew to the curb, and descended. He walked to the rear of the car, opened the trunk, and measured it carefully; to any passing driver he appeared to be merely a man checking his spare tire. Huuygens knew he could always exchange the car on one pretext or another if the measurements were not to his liking, but fortunately there was no need. The trunk was of a size that would serve perfectly.
There were still many things to do that day, and he got right to them. A hardware store nearby furnished him with a hammer, a box of nails, a screwdriver, and a pair of pliers. The owner of the store would have been amazed had he watched his customer once he was back in the car, because the first thing Kek did was to use the hammer and screwdriver as levers to twist the pliers until they were useless. He tried the jaws several times, failed to close them, and grinned as he tossed the tools into the plastic bag together with his stationer’s supplies.
His last chore for the day was to locate a small carpentry shop and order a packing case made to the dimensions he carried in his head. The cover, he explained to the owner, was to be made separately, and he would nail it shut once the box had been packed. The two hovered over sketches until Kek was sure the man knew exactly what he wanted; a price was established, a deposit given, and Kek left the shop with the assurance that the box would be ready by the next afternoon.
It was past six o’clock by the time he left the carpentry shop, and he drove back to the hotel with a feeling of accomplishment. It was the same good feeling he always had when a job was well under way, and the time schedule was being properly respected. He parked the car in the hotel garage and took the elevator up to his floor; even the ancient lift seemed in better spirits, or at least to Kek’s ears the usual metallic complaints were less strident.
In his room he tossed the plastic bag onto the bed, slipped out of his jacket, loosened his tie, and walked to the table before the windows. He had done a good day’s work and deserved a drink; he poured himself a stiff brandy and sank down in the easy chair, sipping it, and then glanced at his watch. Still a good hour and a half before André showed up for dinner — plenty of time to make his call to Anita.
He reached for the telephone and placed the call, leaning back idly, drawing his glass beneath his nose, appreciating the aroma. He could hear the exchange of operator-talk, and then at long last the ringing of a telephone at the other end. He frowned as the telephone continued unanswered, waited for several more rings, and then slowly depressed the lever, thinking. It was essential that he contact Anita as soon as possible, but he couldn’t leave the call in, since he had no idea where he and André would be dining. The best thing, he decided at last, would be to contact his answering service and have them keep trying Anita’s number. And have them leave a message with her to call him at midnight at the hotel.
He released the lever and placed another call for his own number in Paris. There was the usual delay; he finished his brandy and leaned back comfortably, waiting. At last he heard the number ring; the telephone was immediately picked up. His frown deepened; his answering service never responded until the fifth ring. He spoke cautiously.
“Hello?”
“M’sieu Huuygens’s residence. Who is this, please?”
Kek sat up straight in the chair. “Anita! What are you doing in my apartment?”
“Kek! It’s lovely of you to call.” She sounded delighted. “How have you been? How are things in...”
“Anita! Answer me — what are you doing in my apartment?”
“Well...” Anita paused as if arranging things in her mind so as to be perfectly accurate. “This morning I moved your desk over to the other wall — the one nearest the door, and — You know, Kek, I don’t believe that elevator man is from the police. He was very sweet. He helped me move the desk. I gave him five francs. And do you know?” Her tone became severe. “I’m sure Marie never moved that desk since you’ve been in this apartment. The dust under it!”