“Which is where I come in,” I guessed.
“Which is where you come in.” The Baron nodded. “I want you to sail on a three-rnonth, ’round-the-world luxury cruise aboard the S.S. Lascivia, flagship of the Monaco Line. On the surface, you will simply be one of twelve hundred very rich passengers. Not super-rich, understand. When the super-rich want to go around the world—Hughes, Onassis, Getty, people like them -- they make the trip on their own private yachts. Still, the passengers aboard the Lascivia must be quite wealthy to afford the cruise. The average stateroom costs eleven thousand dollars. The cheapest is over five thousand. The grand suite costs almost one hundred thousand.” He paused abruptly.
“This cruise is the gamble you mentioned?” I prodded him.
“Twelve million dollars rides on the cruise.” For the first time Baron Duvivier’s wrinkled face showed strain. His years peeked through his poise. “But there’s more to it than just the cruise itself.” A quaver of age crept into his voice. “Mr. Victor, can I rely on your discretion?”
“That depends on the size of my fee,” I told him bluntly.
“Do you have a figure in mind?”
“How can I? You haven’t even told me yet what the job is.”
“You must have a rough idea of what your time is worth.”
I had a rough idea. On the beach at Nassau, it was worth exactly nothing. On a luxury liner for three months with all my needs taken care of, it was worth whatever the traffic would bear—and not a penny less. “I don’t work by the hour.” When in doubt be arrogant. That’s my motto.
“Then allow me to name a figure.” He named it.
It was twice as much as the figure I would have had in mind if I had a figure in mind, twice as much as any legitimate traffic would bear. It made me suspicious. “Whom do I have to kill?” I inquired.
‘I’m not sure.” His tone was dead serious.
“Who’s going to be out to kill me?” Which was more to the point.
“I don’t know that, either.”
“I can’t decide whether I’m being underpaid, or overpaid,” I told him with complete honesty.
“Neither can I.” The Baron’s smile was on the grim side. “On the other hand, you may not be paid at all.”
Whoa! I knew there was a hitch. Now I inquired point-blank what it was.
“If the Monaco Line is still in existence at the end of this cruise,” the Baron explained, “then the Duvivier Foundation will pay the fee I mentioned to O.R.G.Y. But if the Monaco Line dies, then the Foundation will die with it and your fee will not be honored.”
“You expect me to work for three months for nothing?”
“I expect you to gamble, just as I am gambling. I shan’t mince words, Mr. Victor. I don’t wish to be discourteous, but I have only to look at you to know what your circumstances are. You are, as they say, ‘on the beach,’ Mr. Victor. You can’t afford to turn down my proposition. Even if you forfeit your fee, you will still have had a three-month luxury cruise at no cost to yourself. And you can keep the clothing and luggage I will provide you for the voyage. If all goes well, the fee is quite generous, isn’t it? What do you say, Mr. Victor?”
I said yes, of course. “You’ve bought yourself a big chunk of my discretion,” I told the Baron. “Now let’s hear the rest of it.”
“The round-the-world cruise of the Lascivia is no mere pleasure trip,” Baron Duvivier told me, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. “It will also be a race, the likes of which hasn’t been seen on the high seas since the days of sailing schooners.”
“A race against what?”
“Against the Queen William, flagship of the Gaylife Line, an ultra-modern ocean liner of Swiss registry.”
“Swiss registry? I thought Switzerland was land-locked. Doesn’t that make it a little difficult for the Queen William to dock?”
“Yes. She has to lay at anchor about twelve hundred miles offshore,” Baron Duvivier told me with a perfectly straight face. “But the registry of the Queen William is the least of the perfidies practiced by Captain Igor Grabass.”
“Who’s he?”
“Sole owner of the Gaylife Line, and skipper of the Queen William. He’s also my chief competitor. But this race will be more than merely a business competition.”
“What are the stakes?”
“The Monaco Line against the Gaylife Line. The winner gets sole ownership of both fleets. Including whatever profits accrue from the current cruises.”
“Everything!” I whistled. “What are the rules of the race?” I asked.
“The two vessels leave the Port of New York at the same time. The Lascivia departs from Pier Ninety-two, North River, the Queen William from a berth in Staten Island. Parallel routes have been worked out between Captain Crabass and myself. Each liner makes the same number of tourist stops, although not always at the same ports. Each spends the same total of hours in port. The in-port time must be confirmed by the harbor-master at each stop to insure that the minimum time is spent there. If one of the ships is in the harbor longer than called for, however, that time is not credited against any other layover; in effect, it’s simply time lost at sea—which could be disastrous.”
“Why would one of the ships stay in port longer than required?” I wondered.
“Necessary repairs. Passengers late in getting back on board. Crew members over-staying their liberties. Any number of reasons.”
“I see. Go on.”
“Basically, it’s the speed made at sea that will determine the winner of the race. Both vessels will sail around the world and return to New York—their final destination. The Lascivia will dock at the Queen William’s original berth in Staten Island, the Queen William at Pier Ninety-two, North River, from which the Lascivia will have sailed. Two sets of papers have been deposited in a strongbox in the Bank of New York on Park Avenue. One set gives me sole ownership of the Gaylife Line. The other turns over the Monaco Line to Captain Crabass. We each have a key to the strongbox. The first one to reach the bank gets sole ownership of both companies. I am turning my key over to you, so that you can act in my behalf, Mr. Victor. You are to get to that strongbox as soon as the Lascivia reaches New York, and claim the stakes for me.
“Why don’t you do it yourself?”
“I’m not going on the cruise. I’m getting on in years, Mr. Victor, and I have a weak heart. I couldn’t stand the strain. The first time an engine failed, or weather forced a detour, or the ship was held up in port, the aggravation would endanger my life. I’m just too old to put myself through it. Not to mention the chicanery I might be the target of from Crabass’s agents if I were on board.”
“You think he’ll put agents on the Lascivia?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“And they’ll try to sabotage the voyage?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Why are you hiring me, Baron?” I put the question bluntly. “I’m not a nautical engineer. I’m not a sailor. I’m not even a detective. I’m only a sex investigator.”
“Your role as the man from O.R.G.Y. will serve as a cover story to disguise your real purpose for being aboard. Should your activities in my behalf bring suspicion upon yourself, they can be explained away as having to do with an investigation you are conducting under the sponsorship of the Duvivier Foundation. You can admit to your involvement in a survey of the sexual practices of the upper classes.”