"That's O.K. for them," he said shortly. "What about me?"
Carl turned to face him. "You will be operating in the same area, Louis, among the female lonely-hearts. You will make it clear that, though love has blossomed like an orchid in the sun, you are, like all young men, perennially short of money. Apart from money, I dare say you will be given trinkets—jewellery, cuff-links, cigarette cases—for your trouble. Middle-aged women can be very grateful. You might even take trinkets. What woman would confess that the only time her ear-rings could have disappeared off her dressing-table was when she was drowsy after saying good night to Mr. Scapelli? What woman would care to say that to her husband?"
Carl paused again, while Kathy found herself, for the hundredth time, marvelling at the pure hypnosis which he could inject into discussions like these. It was really extraordinary how he was able to make such propositions sound normal and acceptable. His sardonic recital had conjured up, not a picture of evil intent but only the farcical dilemma of some forlorn matron, stunned by domestic complication at breakfast time. Even Louis Scapelli, whose role had been spelled out as some kind of bedside sneak-thief, with overtones of sexual blackmail, was not surprised thereby; he was now smiling, as the girls had smiled, at the inverted theme of Carl Wenstrom's prize sculpture—Self-indulgence Caught in the Toils of Social Pressure.
After a moment, seeing that they had no comments, Carl went on:
"The Professor's job I have already outlined—he is part of my business set-up, and of our family background." He looked across at the old man, dozing in his armchair, and raised his voice slightly. "Professor!"
The Professor opened his eyes instantly. "Yes, Carl?"
"You are not to get drunk on board in public."
"No, sir!" The ancient head inclined gravely, as if assenting to some broad proposition in moral philosophy. "I will not. Rely upon me."
"And no—" Carl's hand rose and fell delicately, milking the air, "—no light-finger stuff. That's Louis's job, and then only in special circumstances."
"Agreed, sir, agreed."
"Very well. . . . For myself, I shall be playing poker, as I told you. That, again, will be practically legaclass="underline" if I am good enough to win, I shall win; if I am outclassed, I will take precautions. And—" he smiled, "—if the game turns out to be crooked anyway, I will join in, with added enthusiasm. Apart from that, I am there to apply pressure— family pressure—if it ever becomes necessary. The outraged father, the jealous uncle—there are various ways in which I can give you all necessary support. Which reminds me____"
He took a slow sip of his drink, while they continued to watch him. He was going through the drill of giving them confidence, Kathy realized; this was the coach, telling them to get in there and hit the bastards hard, assuring them, before the vital play-off, that he would be up there pitching with them, every second of the game. Presently, as he still kept silent, Louis asked:
"You mean, like we're all related?"
Carl nodded. "I think that's the best way to do it. We've got to produce passports, and passports have names on them. Of course—" he looked at Louis Scapelli, "—you could tag along as a fiancé or a friend, but that might put the customers off—the girls have got to be absolutely free to operate, with no strings attached. The same is true for you. So we'd better be one family, more or less; all cousins, let's say. Kathy is my stepdaughter, my dear wife's child by her first marriage." Carl's tone and look as he said this were steeped in an almost terrifying cynicism. "We have always been very close, particularly since my wife passed away so tragically. . . . Diane is a niece— my sister's child. And Louis is my nephew, the son of another sister."
"Jesus!" said Diane inelegantly. "How did she go wrong?"
Louis scowled at her. "Cut out the cracks! If you can be a niece, I can be a nephew."
"You can be a niece if you like."
Carl broke in, stemming the incipient clash. "You should all refer to me as Uncle Carl, except for Kathy, who will call me Carl."
After a pause, Louis said: "But how are you and Kathy going to fix—I mean—" he gestured round the suite, "you know, like this?"
Carl surveyed him bleakly. "You can leave that to us."
Louis shrugged. "O.K."
"We'll have a stateroom—a day cabin—for all of us to use. My own cabin leads out of it, Kathy's is on the opposite side." His tone was factual and without special emphasis. "Yours and Diane's are just across the corridor, next door to each other. We could have saved money by sharing, but we shall undoubtedly make a great deal more if we're all in single quarters. The whole idea, of course, is that though we constitute one family, each member can lead his own life in isolation. I fancy the customers will come to appreciate that."
Diane said: "Carl, have you actually picked out the customers?"
"I have done some home-work, certainly." There was such confidence in his tone, such controlled certainty, that it was like a loving father saying: Santa Claus is reading your letters at this very moment. "I've seen the preliminary passenger-list, and it's extremely promising. There will be at least a dozen people on board who are exceptionally vulnerable, for one reason or another; people who have made these mistakes before and can afford not to learn from them, couples who have agreed to loathe one another, women who have always had to buy it, men who have never experienced any other sort of transaction." His voice now was in the full flower of contempt, scorning these weaknesses, loving the chances they offered, hating the delay which kept him a full week away from punitive action. "But I don't want to finalize any of our plans, at this stage. These people should only be names, until we actually meet them; when we do meet them, we can then look up the file and see what the basic form is. The Professor already has a notebook full of such helpful information.... Remember that we don't need to hurry anything. We have three months, twelve weeks, eighty-four days. Ideas will flow, opportunities will happen, quickly enough; a man who is just a dull face on Tuesday morning can become a pair of drunken, mauling hands by nightfall. He can also be a terrified cheque-signer by Wednesday midday. None of us need choose without forethought. None of us should do so. And the fewer cheques we take, the better."
"How do we get round that?" asked Diane.
"Ships' pursers cash cheques," answered Carl, "for the people who sign them. Especially travellers' cheques. You should always be ready to point that out."
He was communicating more than enthusiasm, Kathy realized; he was communicating his own sense of power. Now they all saw themselves as small and large dictators, able to say to any man or any woman: "The terms are cash, by six o'clock this evening." Carl was a wonderful coach, there was no doubt about that; she knew it because she was totally subject to his mind and body, the others knew it because he could hammer home his quality of ruthlessness with a few key words, a few special inflexions. When they were on board ship, he would be conducting this small specialized orchestra; and they would be glad of his all-embracing control because they might be lost without it.
The Professor awoke to their silence, opening his eyes with practised wariness, raising his glass unhurriedly as if the time between sips had been a matter of a few moments. His eyes fell first on Louis Scapelli, whom he did not like, and then on Carl, his last and longest ally in a world lately grown hostile and scornful. He asked:
;;Do we all meet again, Carl? Before going on board?"
"One more meeting," answered Carl readily. "A week from today —that is, the day before we sail. Of course, you can call me up at any time, if there are questions or problems. I don't see why there should be; we won't be starting anything until we have scouted the market, until our fellow-passengers have fallen into place." He sat up suddenly, tall in his chair, and looked round him with steady, almost baleful concentration. "I'm paying for this trip," he said, with crude emphasis.