“None.”
“Which will save it being either searched or impounded,” Morell said and came to his feet. He hesitated a moment and then shrugged, a small dapper man with a frozen face and an erect, soldierly stance. “Sorry, Kek. I know the miniatures had nothing to do with it. As for my actions today, I hope there are no hard feelings.”
“I suppose everyone has to do his job as he sees fit,” Huuygens said sententiously and opened the door for Morell. “Well, we still have five hours. Let’s go downtown and have a drink.”
“I suggest you do your drinking alone,” Morell said with no expression, “and in the terminal.” He motioned Kek to precede him from the small office and closed the door behind them. He led the way past the customs gate to the main lobby of the terminal, Kek keeping pace with him. Morell paused in the center of the large room. For the first time he appeared a bit unhappy at his actions. “Good-bye, Kek.”
“Good-bye.” Kek put out his hand; Morell shook it hard. Huuygens put out a hand, claiming the other’s attention for a few more moments. “By the way, Michel, you said André dropped in to see you for several reasons. What were the other ones?”
“Just one other one. He was robbed,” Morell said. He sounded impatient with André.
“Robbed?”
“Yes. Can you imagine?” Morell shook his head. “I tell you, old André isn’t the man we used to know, believe me. In town five minutes, not even out of the airport proper, and somebody takes his suitcase away like candy from a baby! He says his back was turned for a second and the man — or woman, or whatever — must have picked it up and ran. He didn’t see a soul, but he still expects us to catch whoever did it and get his things back. André robbed like a child! Can you imagine?”
“Hardly...”
“Well, we all get old, I suppose.” Morell sighed, thought a moment, and then came from his reverie. He raised a hand. “Well, take care, Kek.”
“I shall. And you too,” Huuygens said softly and watched the military carriage of the dapper policeman as Morell walked out to his car. So André had been robbed of his suitcase, eh? My, my... He heard a small voice at about the level of his hip pocket and turned.
“Senhor?” A small boy was pushing an envelope in his direction.
“Yes?”
“A man said to give this to you. He said—” The boy swallowed; it seemed hard to believe now. “He said you’d give me” — the sum was really too much! — “fifty escudo...”
“He did, did he?”
Kek bit back a smile. If he was being watched, as he sincerely hoped he was, amusement was not indicated at this point. He took the envelope from the boy and handed him a fifty-escudo note; the lad scampered away before minds could be changed. Kek slit the envelope, removed a key, and pointedly searched the empty cover for a note he knew would not be there. He frowned at the number on the key and started toward one side of the large room. A loudspeaker suddenly exploded, announcing the final call for the continuation of his flight to Amsterdam. Kek paused to listen, his face expressionless, and then continued on toward the lockers, his senses keyed.
From his vantage point on the narrow balcony overlooking the main chamber of the airport terminal, Hans Schneller had seen Kek emerge from the customs in company with a small, dark man; he had seen them exchange a few words, shake hands, and part. He did not understand the role of the small, dark man in the nature of things, but he didn’t care. Huuygens was here before him, and that was all that was important, because where Huuygens was, the suitcase was sure to be. He continued to watch, peering about the edge of his opened newspaper; the revolver he had carried in the false bottom of his overnight bag was now in his jacket pocket ready for use, lost in the mountainous folds; its pressure against his heavy thigh was reassuring.
He saw the boy approach Kek with the envelope and saw Kek tip the boy and tear the envelope open. Schneller frowned. What was this? He saw Huuygens study the key as if surprised to see it; Schneller suddenly smiled. What an actor! Even at that distance he no longer had any doubts as to what he was seeing; he didn’t know how in the devil Huuygens had managed the legerdemain, but there was no doubt in his mind that the key was for one of the luggage lockers lining the walls of the chamber. Nor was there the slightest doubt as to what the locker contained. How the devil had Huuygens done it? No matter... He came to his feet, prepared to move swiftly down the flight of steps to the main floor. Huuygens was striding purposefully toward a stand of lockers almost directly beneath him. The newspaper was laid aside. It was time to act.
He came down the steps with surprising lightness in a man his size, walking up behind Huuygens. His hand was in his pocket, smothering the gun. Huuygens was fitting the key into the door of the locker. The stocky man paused in the act of opening the door and then spoke over his shoulder.
“You should stop smoking, Schneller. That wheeze of yours can be heard a block away.”
Schneller smiled grimly. His voice was little more than a whisper and he kept his lips rigid, prison-style, but it carried clearly to the other. “There’s a gun on you, Huuygens.”
Huuygens turned around slowly. His face was expressionless. He saw the bulge made by Schneller’s hand dug into the pocket. His eyes came up, curious.
“Why?”
“You know damn well why! Playing games still, eh? Still being cute, eh?” The smile seemed engraved on the large, flat face. “I saw the boy give you the key. Well, use it. Open the locker.”
Huuygens shrugged, a shrug of defeat. “If that’s what you want...”
“It’s what I want.”
Huuygens turned back. He twisted the key in the lock and pulled the door open. From behind him Schneller chuckled.
“A suitcase cover! I didn’t know they made them in these days of plastics. Not exactly the best disguise in the world, but I suppose my combination lock did attract attention.” His voice sobered. “All right. Take it down. That’s right... Now, set it on the floor. That’s right... No suspicious moves. Now turn and face me. That’s right... We’re just old acquaintances having a word with each other. Can’t you smile every now and then? Well, maybe not... All right, that’s enough conversation. Now we say good-bye. You will walk ahead of me; I will pick up the case and be a few paces behind. And no tricks. If you try to make a run for it, I’ll shoot you here and now...”
The proprietor of the newsstand had been watching the two but with no undue interest; now he turned to service a customer. Kek had the suitcase down and had straightened up.
“Very good,” Schneller said approvingly. “When you get outside you will turn left. I have a car in the parking lot. I’ll point it out to you outside. You will drive, I’ll be in the backseat. I’ll give you the keys when we’re in the car...”
Kek looked toward the door. A policeman there yawned and turned to stare into the driveway leading to the building. Did Morell leave word that he was to be stopped and turned back if he tried to leave the terminal building? Let us hope not, Kek prayed; it could ruin a fine plan.
“Let’s go...”
They were moving across the terminal now, Schneller carrying the suitcase easily in one hand. Kek walked ahead of him leisurely, approaching an exit. Time, he thought, and almost glanced at his wristwatch, though the actual hour had nothing to do with it. Come, come, André; let’s not cut it too fine! He need not have worried, for at that moment there was the sound of a scuffle behind him. He swung around and was not too greatly surprised to see André, with one huge hand gripping the suitcase handle. André’s face was indignant.
“Hey! My suitcase!”
Schneller was almost taken off guard; he managed to maintain his grip and tugged angrily. “Who the devil — Get your damned hands off my suitcase!”