He stopped at a pôsto and filled the car with gasoline, checked the oil and tires, and then set out on his last errand. He turned the car about and drove to the carpentry shop.
The packing case was ready, and the owner of the shop helped him load it into the trunk. He seemed a bit dismayed that its size did not permit it to be completed engulfed by the trunk, fearing for the chrome of the bumper, but Kek assured him that this fact had been known, and that — after all — the proper reason for the size of a case was to accommodate its contents, and not necessarily to fit into any previously prescribed space. It is doubtful if the owner agreed with him, or even understood him, but he accepted his payment, and Kek left with a slight grin. A cord tied between the handle of the trunk and the bumper prevented any undue rattling, and Kek drove back to the hotel garage and parked his car for the night.
At the desk, he picked up the suitcase André had left for him, and went up to his room. He set the suitcase aside, took off his jacket, lit a cigarette, and wandered to the window, staring out over the city, considering each step he had taken so far in the scheme. Each item on the list checked off; as far as he knew, everything had been dealt with, the time schedule beautifully satisfied. Still, he felt a twinge of restlessness, and he knew it was different from the disquiet he often felt when the final stages of a complex scheme were about to be launched. There was a certain foreboding in it; an unusual sensation for him. He turned to crush out his cigarette when the telephone rang. He reached over, picking it up.
“Yes?”
“Mietek?” Jadzia sounded a bit breathless. “I only have a minute. I left the house on the pretext of getting cigarettes.” She paused a moment, and then went on. “Willi says that you and he are leaving Friday. Is that true?”
“I’m not sure of the exact time; it isn’t settled yet.” Even as he spoke, Kek wondered at his own circumspection, and the hollow feeling he had inside him. “It’ll be soon, though.”
“And what are your plans? What do you plan to do?”
He stared at the rug, his face a mask. “I can’t tell you yet, Jadzia. You’ll have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” Despite herself, her voice rose sharply. She brought herself under control, speaking more quietly. “Of course I trust you, Mietek. You gave me a promise.”
He closed his eyes momentarily. Jadzia, Jadzia! You gave me a promise many years ago, and then promptly forgot it. I’ll be more honorable than that...
“Mietek? Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything you want me to do?”
“No.” He took a deep breath. “Whatever happens, stay out of it.” He thought a moment, and then smiled a bit bitterly. “Do whatever Willi tells you to do.”
She didn’t seem to think the instruction odd. “All right, darling. If you say so.” She paused another moment. “I’ve got to go, now. Good luck, dear...” The telephone was softly disconnected.
He stared at the silent receiver in his hand a moment, and then slowly placed it back on the hook. The brandy bottle beside the instrument gleamed invitingly in the lamplight. He took a deep breath and reached for it, drawing the cork...
13
By eight o’clock the following morning his borrowed suitcase had been packed and taken down to the car to be arranged in the trunk beneath the packing case. He stopped for a pot of coffee in the small restaurant attached to the lobby, took a few minutes to check out of the hotel and pay his bill, and then moved to the public telephone in one corner. He shut the door behind him, dropped a coin in the slot and dialed a number, staring out of the glass panel as he waited. His feelings were now completely under control, his mind checking off, one by one, the few steps still to be taken.
Hans eventually answered the ring at the other end; the request to speak with his master brought no comment either on the unusual hour or the unexpected call, but only a silence that was broken a few moments later by Gruber coming on the line. Huuygens suspected that his call had wakened the other, but aside from a nervousness that was normal under the circumstances, Gruber’s voice was controlled.
“Yes? What is it? Is anything wrong?”
“No.” In the booth Kek smiled faintly and then straightened his face, as if Gruber might have been able to see him. “It’s simply that there’s been a slight change in plans. Everything is ready now. We have to leave today.”
“Today?” Gruber paused a moment, as if to gather together arguments; the best he could do was weak. “But you said Friday — tomorrow...”
“I don’t arrange sailing schedules, m’sieu.” Kek’s voice was cold. “The ship we take sails at noon; I only received notice myself a few minutes ago. We have to be at the dock at eleven.” He paused. “I hope you have your passport with you.”
“Of course I have. But a few hours? It doesn’t give me...”
“I’m sorry,” Kek said brusquely. “We’re wasting time we honestly don’t have. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes.”
He hung up, pulled back the door of the booth, and quickly trotted down the steps leading to the garage. He slid into the car, revved up the motor and listened in satisfaction to its purring protestation of power, then drove to the street, turning from the ramp in the direction of the park and his destination. The early morning sun was low, blinding, and he pulled down the visor to protect his vision, smiling as he realized that after leaving Gruber’s house, at least, the sun would be at his back. A bit of luck, that; he hadn’t even considered the position of the sun. His smile faded. Let’s hope there aren’t many other things you forgot to consider, he said to himself sternly, and concentrated on the winding avenue he was following.
At the Bairro da Boa Vista he slowed down, drove through the swank neighborhood to the street he was seeking, and turned down it. At the end of the winding avenue he stopped, swung about to turn around, and then backed the car so that the trunk was almost touching the wrought-iron gate. Beyond the gate he could see both Gruber’s ancient car and the beige convertible, parked side by side. He switched off the ignition and stepped down, leaving the keys in the ignition.
Hans had apparently been waiting for him; he appeared on the top step even as Kek was untying the cord that held the trunk lid in position. The taciturn servant trotted down the steps and pulled open the gate; he accepted the empty crate and carried it into the house while Huuygens closed the trunk and followed along at a leisurely pace with the small plastic traveling bag.
In the hallway, Huuygens stood in bored fashion while Hans patted his sides, ran his hands impersonally down his legs, and checked the innocence of the contents of the small bag. This routine accounted for to his satisfaction, the stocky servant picked up the case again and led the way to the library.
Gruber was waiting at the already opened vault; there was no sign of Jadzia. The tall thin man was in a dressing gown, his hands plunged deep in the pockets, extending them. He stood aside as the two men entered; Kek nodded to him impersonally and indicated to Hans where he wanted the packing case set on the floor. The servant placed it down and then straightened up, awaiting further instruction. Gruber frowned at Huuygens.
“Just how is this thing going to work? What are you going to do?”
“You’ll see,” Kek said curtly, and looked about the room. His eyes returned from the gallery spread on the walls, contemplating the table thoughtfully. He nodded as he made up his mind. “Those small sketches first, I think. We’ll get them out of the way, and then tackle the larger ones on the wall.”
Gruber hesitated a moment; Kek waited with exaggerated patience. The tall German finally shrugged and unlocked the drawer, taking out the envelope and placing it on the table. Huuygens checked the tiny squares of vellum within, nodded, and then opened his small plastic bag, rummaging through the contents to finally unearth the tissue paper and the transparent tape; he looked like a surgeon preparing to operate. Gruber watched him curiously as he wrapped the entire envelope with tissue and then placed strips of tape carefully across the folds.