“I’m sorry, Kek. I guess I blew your deal. I don’t mind for myself, though I sure as hell could have used the rest of the dough, but I hate to be the cause of your losing out on the deal. I should have used my head. I should have admitted to myself I don’t know anything about robbing a museum. But I did want to see you and Anita again, and I did want that trip to the States...” His voice slowed down and stopped.
Huuygens studied the lined, craggy face with the sad blue eyes. It was obvious that André did not clearly understand the mentality of a man like Girard. To be a good winner or a loser on a wager was one thing; Girard would take his beatings on that because it was a matter of pride. But to discover he had hired a man for an important job and the job had failed because the man had lied to him about his qualifications — that was quite different. To a person of Girard’s nature, the only answer could be punishment, both swift and dire; and even André’s enormous strength and courage would not avail against any of Girard’s gunmen if they were instructed to resolve the matter. A shot in the dark, or a fast car on a dark street somewhere. It also wouldn’t be too good for the man who had sponsored André. Maybe he would have been better off with a broken back.
Kek sighed. Well, he thought philosophically, if he had to turn professional thief at this late date, at least it would be in a good cause. He smiled to himself faintly. Don’t make yourself out to be such a martyr, Huuygens, he advised himself sardonically; there’s also the matter of your fifty-thousand-to-five-dollar bet riding on it. Let’s kid everybody but ourselves, he thought, and considered André thoughtfully.
“Tell me about this museum.”
André seemed surprised, but seemed to feel this was no time to question Kek on anything.
“Well,” he said, “I told you about the basement. The first floor has three main rooms, one big one and two smaller ones. The carving is in the biggest room. The main door is between the main room and a smaller one in front; the other small one is behind that.”
“How many floors?”
“Three. The floors upstairs are split up in more rooms than the ground floor, but the second floor is all there is to the museum. The top floor is for offices.” He looked at Kek curiously. “Why?”
Kek disregarded André’s query. “Tell me about the staircase.”
“Which one? From the basement to the first floor, or from the first floor up?”
“Tell me about all of them.”
“Well,” André said, mystified, “they all go up halfway to the next floor and there’s a landing, then they go up the rest of the way. They’re wide, made of marble from the first floor to the second, but plain wood from the basement to the first and from the second to the third. Oh, yes,” he added, remembering, “there’s an alcove at the landing on the basement floor; you can get a good view of the first floor from there — floor-level, of course — without being seen. The railing is heavy; all you have to do is look between the uprights.”
“Where are the toilets? In the basement?”
“No,” André said, his mystification deepening. “They’re on the third floor, where the offices are. Why?”
“And one last question,” Kek said, his face expressionless. “How did you get here? To Barbados from Ile Rocheux, I mean?”
“By boat.” André wondered where all this was leading. “Like Girard told me to.”
“I hope you didn’t steal it, like you were also told. They leave boats lie around fairly freely around here.”
André was insulted and his tone showed it.
“I know I’m not bright, but I’m not all that stupid! I don’t know these islands, but I know the Balearics, and I have a hunch all islands are alike. You can rob museums all day long, and they could care less, but steal a man’s boat? They’ll chase you until they catch you if it takes ten years.” He shook his head decisively. “That’s where half my money went. I rented it here in Barbados and took it to Ile Rocheux. In fact, I lived on it in Ile Rocheux for almost two weeks.”
“Well!” It was the first encouraging thing Kek had heard all day. “How long a ride is it?”
“A couple of hours. Why?”
Kek disregarded the question. “And where is the boat now?”
André’s mystification increased. “Now? I returned it, of course. What do I need a boat for now?”
“Go rerent it,” Kek said gently. “Do you have money?”
“I have enough for that, but rent it for what purpose?”
“To go back to Ile Rocheux, of course. Cap Antoine, to be exact. To get the carving you forgot to bring with you.”
For a moment André’s furrowed face brightened; then it fell.
“It’s impossible, Kek. If you’d have been with me the first time, you would probably have thought of something, and we might have pulled it off. But now it’s impossible. You read it yourself. They have two guards in the room, and floor alarms, and the army barracks right next door. There isn’t a chance.”
“Just go rent the boat. If worse comes to worst,” Kek said, “we’ll get in a few days’ fishing. Do you have a map of Cap Antoine? Good. If you left the boat without provisions, get some — enough for a day, at least. Where is the boat, by the way?”
“If I get the same one, it’s down at the yacht basin at Graves End beach. The one I had was called Beachcomber. I’d like it; it’s a good boat.” He frowned. “But aren’t you coming with me?”
“I’ll meet you there in an hour or so. I’ve something to do.”
“Okay.” André came to his feet. The gloomy look on his face suddenly brightened as he contemplated the matter. “Hey! It’ll be like old times, won’t it, Kek?”
“I certainly hope so,” Huuygens said sincerely. “At least in the old times we came out of our little adventures alive and in one piece.”
He watched the huge André drain the last of his cognac and start for the door. Then he switched smoothly from the French he and André had been using to English, raising his voice a bit, speaking to the bartender.
“Could I have a telephone here, please?”
The bartender brought one over and plugged it in. Kek thanked him with a nod and a smile, and got through to the operator. He placed his call and hung up, returning to the cognac while he waited. A means of getting the carving was forming in his mind; he hoped the planning of his first burglary would be as successful as his usual schemes for bringing things through Customs in various countries of the world. He checked his idea carefully. There were dangers, of course; a pity, for example, that the architects who designed the museum for Ile Rocheux had been so non-American-oriented as to put toilets on the third floor. Still, overcoming obstacles was the reason man was given intelligence. It was a possibility at best, but without choice one took whatever chances he had to. Maybe, he thought with a smile, if this thing works I may become that “professional thief” I was decrying to Girard such a short time ago. Girard was right: every man has the right to name his own vices. I suppose, in the long run, the only thing that makes a thief professional is experience... He went back to his planning.
His call was finally completed; a moment later Girard had been called to the line.
“Allô!”
The husky voice was instantly recognizable. It was an interesting fact, Kek thought, that Victor Girard’s “Hello” was always a statement, never a question.
“M’sieu? This is your purchasing agent. I am calling from Barbados. As per instructions.”
“Ah!” Girard sounded pleased. “You have it!”
“Not exactly.”
Girard’s voice changed, hardened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that to date our requisition has not been filled.”
“What! You mean he has not appeared?”
“Oh, he appeared,” Kek said. “Only he was alone.”
A blast of pure venom exploded into the receiver.
“That idiot! The incompetent! I was told he was the best in the business! He told me—” There was a sudden pause. When Girard spoke again his voice was deadly. “I hope nobody is playing any tricks, here, M’sieu.”
“M’sieu! Nobody is playing any tricks. And your man is the best. When I saw him here in Barbados I recognized him instantly.” Kek’s tone brooked no nonsense, especially from someone several thousand miles away. “After all, M’sieu, one can scarcely call ‘incompetent’ the man who managed to — well, obtain one of the most valuable pieces of merchandise in the world, can one? From one of the most prestigious shops in the world?” His tone almost answered the question. “Obviously not.”
“Then what happened?”
“One of those things—”
“And why isn’t he calling me? Why you?”
“He has laryngitis,” Kek answered evenly. “He’s been sleeping on a boat for the past two weeks. In any event, M’sieu, the matter isn’t closed. Far from it—”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, if M’sieu will listen, that the matter isn’t closed. Your salesman merely asked me to get some additional information from you. With it he feels sure he will be able to complete the transaction to your complete satisfaction.”
“He had better,” Girard said. The very lack of emphasis in his voice constituted a greater threat than violence. “Time is running out. Well, what information does he want?”
“An address in Cap Antoine is all, M’sieu...”
“An address?”
“We are wasting time, M’sieu.” Kek asked his question and marked down the answer on a table napkin. He tucked it into his pocket. “Thank you. That should be enough.”
“I hope so. You’ll be in touch?”
“Without fail, M’sieu. Good-bye.”
Kek hung up the telephone, made a small grimace at it as if in memory of the man at the other end of the line, and came to his feet. He carried his bill to the bar, paid it after adding a substantial tip, and then paused. The bartender looked at him expectantly.
“Sir?”
Kek came to a decision. He unwrapped the candy dish and put it on the bar.
“Here. A present for your wife.” The bartender stared at him. Kek looked concerned. “You have one, do you not?”
“Oh, yes, sir.”
“Then give her this with my blessings. It was meant for my fiancée, but she preferred another. Man, that is, not candy dish.” Kek sighed and carefully folded the paper, putting it in his pocket. “I shall keep the wrapping in memory. With luck, I may be able to use it soon...”
He nodded to the bartender and left the bar. Behind him the bartender examined the candy dish a moment, shrugged, and then slid it along the bar to serve among the other ashtrays.