True, she had been equally pleasant with one and all in the lounge after the ship had sailed, but each man knew it would take an exceptionally brilliant approach to garner this flower for his personal bouquet. So, when the lovely lady suddenly and inexplicably lost her balance and caromed into the legs of the only man on deck who had not been paying her attention — since he seemed to prefer leaning on the rail and watching the huge waves fight each other — every other man within eyesight of the incident mentally kicked himself for not having been at that particular spot at that exact moment.
“You are careless,” Kek murmured, and helped Anita to her feet. He restrained an impulse to brush the perfect figure; the gallery might have misunderstood. “Did you want to see me about something?”
“You are a dog,” Anita said simply, and smiled brightly for the benefit of the doleful watchers. “It was about the only way to get your attention. How long did you think I was going to wait until you arranged a proper introduction to me?”
Kek smiled. “To be honest, I was going to trip you up on your next round of the deck. However, now that you so cleverly managed the affair, may I buy you a drink to calm your jangled nerves?”
Anita’s smile thanked him for his aid, but her voice was grim.
“I don’t know if you’re telling the truth or not, darling,” she said under her breath, “but you are going to be buying me drinks for the rest of the trip, if I have to jangle my nerves every hour on the hour.”
She allowed herself to be led helpfully to a table alongside the bulkhead that separated the outdoor pool area from the interior saloon where the cruise directoress was giving Italian lessons to a group of pale women passengers who were wishing they had foregone breakfast. Anita sat down and watched Kek take a chair across from her.
“You may have noticed,” she said conversationally, “that you are not the only man on board. With a little effort, I’m sure I could manage other company, if you prefer.”
“And break Max’s heart?” Kek shook his head sadly at this lack of constancy, and waved for a steward.
Anita smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Max could find a reason to join the ship at Miami, if I cabled him.”
“Without a doubt,” Kek agreed. “But with Rose.”
“You could have Rose.”
“Not without the grandchildren,” Kek said firmly, and then paused at the arrival of the steward. He started to order and then stopped abruptly, looking at Anita. “I beg your pardon, miss—”
“Call me Anita.”
“With pleasure. What would you prefer, Anita?”
“I’ll have a brandy, please.”
“Good!” Kek said in complete agreement, and turned to the waiting steward. “Two Dom Pedro Segundos, please. Not in balloon glasses.” He waited until the steward had noted the order and left and then shook his head with a slight frown. “I’m getting careless.”
“Careless?”
“I almost ordered for you without asking.”
A small frown creased Anita’s forehead, instantly erased. She smiled widely for the benefit of the audience. “What difference does it make? Actually, why all the mystery of our knowing each other?”
“A hunch that it’s better this way,” Kek said pleasantly.
Anita was aware of Kek’s hunches, and of the fact that usually they were based on more than mere presentiment.
“Do you think somebody may be watching you?”
Kek laughed, as at a joke.
“I have no idea; just a feeling.” His smile changed to a normal expression of a man doing his best to put across a line with a pretty girl. “I honestly can’t see what Girard would gain by putting a tail on me; he knows very well I’m not going to run away with his precious carving. And as far as I know, nobody else is even aware that I’m on this cruise.” A second thought followed the first, this one more logical. “He might, of course, put someone on me for what he considers my own protection — or, rather, for the protection of the carving. Another in his corps of bodyguards, to make sure nobody taps me on the head and takes it away from me.”
“I like the idea of a bodyguard better,” Anita said, and smiled her relief.
“Except I don’t particularly like being watched by anyone, including those with friendly motives.” Kek smiled and leaned back. “Well, enough of fantasy and worry. This is supposed to be a pleasure cruise. Why don’t we—” He paused as a steward approached their table, frowning slightly, since this one wore a white jacket rather than a blue one, and further because this one was not bearing drinks. “Yes?”
“Signore Huuygens? A radio-telephone for the signore. In the radio shack on the bridge deck.”
“Thank you.” Kek came to his feet. He looked down at Anita. All about them male faces evinced sudden hope at this sign of their rival parting so quickly; the faces fell again as the deck steward came up and deposited two drinks on the table. It appeared, worse luck, that the separation was only to be temporary. Kek, his broad shoulders masking his face from the audience, winked down at Anita. “Don’t drink mine while I’m gone.”
“Then don’t be too long. Trouble, you think?”
“I have no idea. More likely just a checkup; Girard seems to be the nervous type. And he’s the only one who knows where we are — I mean, where I am. I certainly hope he doesn’t know it’s we.”
“But, why?”
“Because I wouldn’t like it,” Kek said flatly. “Well, I’d better go up and see what the little man has on his mind.”
Anita watched him walk away, admiring his athletic stride as always, thinking how happy she was with him, and then reached for a cigarette, her face reflecting nothing more than the normal friendly curiosity as to the handsome man who had been so kind as to forgive her clumsiness and to buy her a drink in the bargain. She managed to light her cigarette before any potential swains could leap to her assistance, suddenly conscious of the possibility that among them was one who might well be more interested in Kek than in herself. It was a reassuring thought that Kek might have a friendly bodyguard on board whether he liked it or not. She raised her cigarette and allowed the stiff breeze to take the ashes out to sea, resisting the temptation to study the faces watching to try and select which one might be also following Kek with his eyes. Interference, she knew, was one thing Kek would be slow to forgive.
On the bridge deck Kek easily located the radio shack by following arrows. The officer seated at the telegraphic console noted his name, mentioned the number of a booth, waited until Kek had wedged himself inside, and then started to fiddle with switches. As he waited, Kek thought how vulnerable a man would be in the tiny glass enclosure; memories of movies he had seen to that effect came unbidden, to be interrupted by the officer’s voice in his ear.
“Ready, Signore.”
Kek nodded, pleased to put the thought of machine guns away, and spoke into the instrument. “Hello?”
“Holà! Allô! Huuygens?”
“Speaking.”
“This is... well, you know who.” The husky voice in the accented French was identification enough, including the suspicion in it. There was a moment’s hesitation, then: “Where did we meet?”
“At the Quinleven Club in New York,” Kek said, and grinned to himself. This was the man who thought Kek’s ideas were cloak-and-dagger? “You had two friends with you, and you were wearing a bilious green suit with a blue shirt and a red tie—”
“Ah, so!” The tone was satisfied; obviously, after the first two words he had heard nothing. Kek’s grin disappeared; something must be on the man’s mind. The husky voice continued. “M’sieu, things have changed.”