“How did you do it, Kek?”
“How did I do what?”
“You know damn well what I mean! How did you—” He paused abruptly, glancing at the driver, then lowered his voice, even though they were speaking French. “You know!”
“Oh, that?” Kek laughed. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over a drink at the apartment.” He looked at André, a twinkle in his eye. “How did you enjoy the search?”
“I was going to object. Strenuously,” André reported honestly, “but I figured they’d take away my visa—”
“For breaking an inspector’s back? Or even his arm? Very likely,” Kek said dryly.
André considered his friend with respect. “You go through that all the time? And keep your temper?”
Kek shrugged. “It’s part of the game. Usually I’m the only one to suffer, but this time, because of that damned bodyguard of Girard’s and his big mouth — and because Jamison, for all his faults, was smart enough to figure out that if I had a confederate, it could well be whoever joined the ship in Barbados, and you were the only one who did — you and the rest had to suffer with me. I’ll try to be more careful in the future and not make verbal deals before third parties.”
He leaned forward, directing the driver. The cab swung in an illegal U-turn, coming to rest before a large apartment. Kek paid the man and climbed down after André. The large man picked up the four suitcases with ease, refusing help, and followed Huuygens into the building. In the elevator, the doorman behind him, André looked around, smiled at the luxury, and said, “Tomorrow I’ll get the rest of my money from Girard and find myself a small hotel for a few months.”
“You’ll pick up the money and then come right back to the apartment,” Kek said firmly. “Anita would never let me hear the end of it if you ever stayed anywhere else. And, after all, I have to live with the woman.”
André grinned. “In that case—”
The elevator door slid back silently. Kek led the way down the hall, dug out his apartment key, opened the door, and ushered André inside. “Put down the bags and let’s have that drink.” He raised his voice. “Anita?”
“Yes?” The voice was faint, coming from a bedroom.
“Come in here and have a drink with us. What are you doing?”
Anita poked her head around the sill of the hall entrance. “I’m unpacking, darling.”
Kek looked at her in surprise. “Unpacking?”
“That’s what people usually do when they come back from a cruise,” Anita answered reasonably, and came into the room.
“Ah!” Kek saw her point at last, and also her mistake. “But I promised you cruises, not a single cruise, don’t you remember? And this time we’ll have adjoining staterooms, and a flaming shipboard romance, and everything that goes with it, to make up for the last one.” He moved behind the bar and started to set out glasses while André and Anita stared at him. Kek reached for a bottle of brandy. “We leave at seven o’clock this evening, sweet. For Philadelphia, by train. The Andropolis sails from there at midnight.”
Anita settled on a barstool with an unbelieving look on her pretty face. André sat down beside her, staring at Huuygens.
“You’re going to take another cruise? On the same ship?”
“Of course,” Kek said, and poured. He slid glasses over the countertop, retaining one for himself. “I have to. The carving is there on board.”
“What?”
“Yes — behind a dresser drawer in my stateroom. I figured Jamison wouldn’t look there again, not after he found that lovely-wrapped package missing from the air-conditioning duct.” He laughed. “That was the carving, at the time. The candy dish was where it belonged, on the vanity, full of caramels. One thing I’m pleased about — I won’t have to keep wrapping and rewrapping anymore.”
There was a lot about this that André didn’t understand, but one thing was quite clear.
“Yes, but when you come back this time, they’ll be twice as suspicious!”
Kek smiled. “Not quite. As the young lady at the travel agency said, this one is just a Cruise to Nowhere, three or four days on the ocean for people who just like the sight and sound of the sea, and — although she failed to mention it — each other’s company.” He smiled genially at the two people staring at him. “And they don’t even open the ship’s shop, because, you see, passengers on a Cruise to Nowhere aren’t bothered by the nasty Customs when they return...”
He smiled more widely, winked, and raised his glass.
“And if nobody else does it this time, I’ll do it myself. To a bon voyage.”
16
André Martins sat at ease on the sofa, feet elevated and a beer in one hand, doing his best to understand the mentality that could find pleasure in an early-morning game-show. The sound of a key in the lock was lost in the greater clamor from a correct answer to an infantile question on the television, for what reason André could not say. He looked up at the opening door and then jumped to his feet to help Kek with the luggage. Anita followed, looking tanned and happy, closing the door behind her. André, glad that his four days of lonely exile were ended, turned off the television set and went back of the bar, reaching for glasses.
“How was the trip?”
“Wonderful!” Anita said. “A lot better than the last time.”
“I always told you cruises should be taken in doses,” Kek said, and started to shuck his jacket. “There are just so many red-haired young men in the world, and fortunately the supply ran out before this cruise, so we were able to enjoy ourselves.”
“Don’t say anything about Billy Standish,” Anita said with mock severity. “He was thoughtful, and kind—”
“And courteous and helpful, and everything else Boy Scouts should be,” Kek conceded. “The one thing he forgot was that Boy Scouts shouldn’t lust after beautiful young ladies.”
Anita laughed. “If that was lust, give me — well, give me this last trip.”
André cut into the conversation, looking at Kek. “What about—”
“On schedule.” Huuygens put aside his jacket and bent over his small briefcase. He opened it and brought out a bulky package. The carving had been protected by several thick folds of cardboard, then further cushioned with a pair of Kek’s pajamas. He carefully unwrapped it, put aside the cardboard, and set it on the bar. Anita shook her head.
“I’ve seen it daily on the trip. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I know,” André said, and grinned. “Even if I never saw it except through a glass case.” He glanced at his watch and reached for the brandy. “What time do you have to be at Girard’s?”
“Noon.” Kek swung himself onto a stool. “Plenty of time.”
André pushed the bottle over. “Want me along? Just in case Girard changes his mind about the odds, now that the carving is actually here, and not there? Or tries to get cute in any other way? I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s not a nice man.”
Kek shook his head and poured himself a drink.
“I agree that Girard is not a nice man, but you don’t understand his mentality,” he said, and sipped. “I wouldn’t buy a used car from him, and if he handed anyone a pistol to start a game of Russian roulette, three to one all chambers would be loaded. But welsh on a gambling wager? He’ll live up to every comma and period on any bet he makes, if it breaks his heart. His pride wouldn’t allow him any other choice.” André didn’t look too convinced. Kek set down his drink, frowning. “You received the rest of your fee, didn’t you?”
“Oh, sure,” André said, waving that aside. “But that was peanuts. Your case is a lot different—”