The young lady smiled proudly, aware of a job well done. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”
“Just one thing,” Kek replied. He tapped his package of brochures. “How much actual notice would be required to be sure and get the exact accommodations at the exact time for any particular ship? I mean, on any particular cruise? Or cruises?”
“Cruises?”
Kek chose not to explain. “That’s right.”
The young lady, having no choice, let the matter go. “It would depend on the time of year, sir.”
“This month.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about this time of the year,” the young lady said with assurance. “Especially if” — she noted the suit and went on confidently — “especially if one were to book one of the higher-priced staterooms. A lot of people travel in July, but the more expensive staterooms are usually booked more solid in the winter. But July is a very good time to travel; it’s warm from the very first day, while some of the winter cruises are pretty chilly the first few days out of New York.”
“Thank you.” Kek turned to leave.
“There’s nothing else you need?”
“No, thank you,” Kek said. He rewarded the young lady with a bright smile, shouldered his mountainous load of brochures, and managed to get through the door before the hurrying young lady could get around the counter and open it for him.
Behind he left a young lady who thought what a pity it was that her own vacation didn’t come until November!
“July twenty-first, in Barbados,” Kek said to the swarthy man.
The two were occupying chairs in one corner of the reading room at the Quinleven Club; the cardroom was too active this night for conversation, even though the men spoke, as always, in French. The pair of bodyguards restlessly shuffled through the magazines on the long mahogany table in the center of the room, wondering what gave the management the idea that Business Week was more interesting than Playboy. At least you didn’t have to understand English to enjoy Playboy.
Girard frowned unhappily. “July twenty-first? This is only the fifth! That’s more than two weeks! Why so long?” A more important question intruded on his thoughts. “And why Barbados? Why not Ile Rocheux itself?”
Huuygens sighed inwardly at the other’s lack of imagination; he would have assumed it would have been a necessary adjunct of any successful dictator’s makeup. On the other hand, Girard was not a sucessful dictator. Maybe that explained it.
“M’sieu Girard, picture it: the museum of Ile Rocheux is burglarized; I gather it is not something that can be kept from the police indefinitely. Any strangers on the island are going to be the first ones to be suspected. As a matter of fact, July twenty-first is particularly convenient; it not only suits my plans, but there will actually be a cruise ship in Ile Rocheux from the nineteenth until the twenty-second. That ship will, I assure you, be held up, searched from one end to the other, and its passengers made extremely uncomfortable. I try to avoid such discomfort where possible.”
“But Ile Rocheux is always full of strangers! The gambling brings them from the entire area! Two more—”
“No,” Kek said, quietly but firmly. “They will have to do without this particular stranger. Let it be my way. The presence of a cruise ship in Ile Rocheux will keep the staff of local police occupied while we — your thief and I — transact our business quietly and efficiently in Barbados, and then go our respective ways.” He watched Girard accept the answer, albeit not with complete happiness. “Now, as I was saying: I shall be a passenger on the motor vessel Andropolis, which docks in Barbados on July twenty-first. My passage is all arranged.”
Girard grimaced. “Damn it, my man is already on his way to Ile Rocheux! I had no idea you would delay like this! And why are you planning on returning to New York by ship rather than by plane?”
“How I return to New York is both my business as well as being highly unimportant as far as our — ah, wager, is concerned,” Huuygens said quietly. “When the Andropolis docks on its return from that trip — which will be July twenty-fifth, if you want to come down to the dock with flowers — I shall not, repeat not be taking any carving from the ship, whether I am on the ship or not. If that answers your question.”
“But—”
Kek studied the other man steadily. “Yes?”
“Well, damn it,” Girard said angrily, “then when will you be bringing it through Customs? And what’s the purpose of this trip by ship, if you don’t plan to use the ship?”
“The cruise,” Kek said gently, “is for my nerves, which are on the verge of being unraveled, mainly by a lot of unnecessary questioning.” He shrugged, “In any event, our wager said nothing of dates—”
Girard’s face hardened. He sat a bit more erect. At the table the two bodyguards looked more alert. “Now you see here! Just remember to whom you are speaking! We made a wager, and I live up to the terms of my wagers, but I take that tone from no one!”
“I apologize,” Kek said calmly. “And, if it will relieve your mind, we’ll settle our little bet on the first of next month. That makes it less than one month from today, so I see no reason for complaint.”
There was a dangerous silence. Girard’s face was a rock. “Why so long?”
“I’m slow,” Kek said apologetically. “Your contacts in Paris should have explained that to you.” He looked at the other man expressionlessly, in no way intimidated by the stocky man’s dislike. “May I continue?”
Girard would have enjoyed nothing more than stalking off and forgetting the matter, but he had made a wager and intended to stay with it. And he also knew there was no question of changing horses in midstream. He bottled his temper and prepared to memorize the program about to be given to him.
“All right,” he said harshly. “On July twenty-first your ship, the Andropolis, will dock at Barbados — at Bridgetown, of course, since there is no other place to dock. My man will have the carving in his possession by then. He will bring it to Bridgetown—”
“Not by BWIA, nor by the Cap Antoine-Bridgetown ferry,” Huuygens interrupted. “Let him rent — not steal, even though he’s such a marvelous thief — a powerboat of some sort. For a few weeks’ fishing, let us say; he has to do something with his excess time. On the twenty-first he can land it in Barbados anyplace between Bridgetown and Holetown. Just beyond Paradise Beach are several good deserted spots. He can anchor there, bring the dinghy in to shore, and catch a bus into town.”
“It’s an idea,” Girard said grudgingly. “All right. He comes into Bridgetown without any hue and cry. He’ll do it fine; he’s good. The best, in fact. He’ll come aboard the Andropolis—”
“He will not come aboard the Andropolis. In fact, there is no need for him to know the name of the ship, or the fact it will be docked there.” Kek’s voice was definite about this. He leaned toward the smaller man a trifle, as if for emphasis. “He will have nothing to do with the ship, and no more to do with me than is necessary for this operation.”
“Then, how—”
“What he will do,” Kek went on, leaning back again, “is the following: He will go shopping at Harrison’s, in the Broad Street, and he will buy some object the same size as the carving. He will then go someplace private — the men’s room at the nearest bar might serve — and use the wrapping paper to rewrap the carving. He will not go into Harrison’s and ask for the paper, nor will he try to steal it. He will buy something. Harrison’s paper is quite distinctive.”