Kek turned his head obediently, staring at a picture on the wall. It was an Ada Peacock original, a bright watercolor of a Peruvian girl striding barefoot down a mountain road, her shoes dangling from her neck, leading a burro on which her derbied bridegroom sat holding the baby. Despite the chill he had received listening to the exposition on the suitcase and its invulnerability, Kek was forced to smile at the warm colors and the happy look of fulfillment on the girl’s face. It did not take a suitcase full of cocaine to make everyone in the world happy, he thought, and then had his thoughts interrupted by the sudden sharp ring of a bell. He turned back.
“You see?” Schneller was quite pleased by the cleverness of his invention. He spun the combination; the sound ceased at once. “Separate batteries,” he said in proud explanation. “Otherwise one could let the bell ring until the main batteries were dead and could not spark the detonator.” He set the suitcase down and pushed it away from him with one foot and then leaned back smiling genially. His pale eyes dared Huuygens to find something he had overlooked. “So, as I say, care should be taken in playing with my suitcase. Because should anyone be so foolish as to disregard the warning of the bell, and should this person continue on to the final number—”
He winked jovially, as if he were in the midst of a risqué story coming to the final punch line, and then suddenly flung his hands up in the air dramatically. His twinkling little eyes widened in comic exaggeration.
“Blooey!” he said and settled down. His smile became gentle, almost childlike. “You understand?” he asked quietly.
Kek understood all too well. His voice was even. “I understand.”
“You are not surprised?”
I should not have been, Kek thought, but I am. “No,” he said.
“I expect not.” Schneller sighed, a gargantuan sigh, like a magician whose best trick has failed to impress. “I imagine it’s the sort of thing you would think of yourself if you needed to ensure privacy to the contents of a case...”
There was a slight touch of disappointment in the accented voice; the full lips were turned down a bit at the corners. Kek felt there was no harm in reassuring the man; somebody should feel reassured, he thought, and he certainly didn’t.
“Except I should not have been able to build it.”
Schneller took heart from the statement.
“It is unusual,” he said, and now he was speaking honestly, not trying to impress but to explain. “Since the first combination lock in the early sixteen hundreds they have used bar tumblers and pin tumblers. A child could open them. My case has steel ball bearings under springs. To open it the ball bearings must each be in its proper socket, like those aggravating toys where one must roll little tiny balls into tiny depressions without dislodging the others. Only mine can’t be dislodged. And all four must be put into place in proper order, or first the bell rings and then—” He sighed. “Someday I shall patent it...”
“Quite successfully, I’m sure,” Kek said politely. He wished the big man would go so he could start thinking. He glanced at his watch and looked up. “That’s all then?”
“Yes.” The large German seemed reluctant to leave, or possibly it was reluctance to part with his suitcase. He reached into his pocket for tobacco and paper, beginning to roll another of his thin cigarettes. “Tell me, m’sieu...” He paused, watching his thick fingers at work.
“Yes?”
Schneller seemed to be making up his mind about something. He licked the cigarette and smoothed it and then considered Kek strangely.
“Tell me, m’sieu. You had trouble entering Argentina?”
“Trouble?” Kek seemed more amused than disturbed by the question. “Nothing more than usual. What makes you ask?”
“There was a search?”
“There’s always a search,” Kek said easily and wondered what the other had on his mind. “But, as I said, nothing more than usual. Why?”
Again there was that hesitation. Schneller looked down at the small yellowish tube in his fingers as if surprised to discover it and then shoved it in the corner of his mouth, but he did not light it.
“What I’m getting at is this: M’sieu Huuygens, you have a reputation for being the most adept smuggler in the world. I know you are searched wherever you go, and I know you use your own passport and refuse to consider using a false name. I am sure a Telex has gone out to all major airports everywhere saying you are here in Argentina, and they will all be wondering why you are here — and, of course, what you plan to smuggle in from Argentina...” He ended his statement on a rising inflection, making it a partial question.
“Unless, of course,” Kek said easily, “they think I was bringing something into this country.”
“No.” The large man shook his head decisively. “You were searched, were you not? And nothing was discovered?”
Kek laughed. “I am always searched. And nothing is ever discovered.” His laugh faded, replaced with a frown. “Just what are you getting at, Herr Schneller?”
Schneller finally selected the right words. “M’sieu Huuygens, as I’m sure you know, that suitcase is very valuable. Should you fail to deliver it in Barcelona for any reason at all, whether it was your fault or not, I doubt if either Señor Sanchez or Duarte would be very forgiving.”
“I’m sure they would both be very nasty,” Kek agreed pleasantly, but his sharp gray eyes were studying the big man closely. “However, since I have no intention of failing...” He shrugged, his meaning clear.
“Still,” Schneller said stubbornly, it never does any harm to have some form of insurance. For example, you obviously have some plan for getting into Spain. You probably feel it best to do so alone. However, it’s my opinion you would be much better off with a companion—”
Kek’s eyebrows went up. “You mean a woman?” His eyes were joking.
“No, no! I mean—”
“You mean a bodyguard.” Kek shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I can’t work that way.”
“Then at least let us know your plans. You’ve been assured of payment; I understand it’s in an escrow account merely requiring Sanchez’s signature. So it seems to me the need for secrecy is past. I feel we have a right to know how you plan to get it into Spain—”
Kek looked at him. “We?”
“We. All of us with a stake in the matter.”
“I’m afraid it’s impossible.”
“Then at least let us have people at the various places you will be passing through. For protection...”
“Against what?” Kek asked curiously. “The danger is from customs, and how do you propose to protect against that?”
“No, no,” Schneller said and removed the unlit cigarette from his lip. He looked at it a moment and laid it aside, bringing his attention back to the stocky man. “The question is how you propose to protect against that.” He leaned forward, oozing respectability and good intent. “Believe me, m’sieu, the time for secrecy is past. You have the suitcase; you are guaranteed payment. There is no need for secrecy at this point.”
“You honestly believe that?”
“Quite,” Schneller said as convincingly as he could. His eyes had narrowed. Despite his best efforts, his fingers showed the strain; they curled slightly along the crease of his trousers.
“Fair enough,” Kek said lightly. “You start the no-secrecy bit. Give me the combination of the lock — and stay here while we open the case — and I’ll be happy to tell you my whole story.”
The look of anticipation on Schneller’s face disappeared as if wiped away by a huge hand, replaced by a cold glare of fury. The pale eyes considered the other man for several moments. He came to his feet slowly and moved toward the door.