“Lepski! Stop making an exhibition of yourself!” Carroll exclaimed, sliding out of the car and joining them. “Do what the man says!”
The guard turned to Duvine.
“Please tell the gentleman that we have instructions to check all luggage owned by Americans. We regret the inconvenience, but those are our instructions.”
“I understand,” Duvine said, his shirt sticking to his back with cold sweat. “Do you need to search my baggage?”
“That will not be necessary.”
“What’s he say?” Lepski demanded.
Duvine explained.
“It won’t take long, Tom. Just go along with them.”
“Do it!” Carroll snapped. “Why must you always make a nuisance of yourself?”
Lepski clenched his fists, choked back an expletive, then said in a strangled voice, “Okay, okay, so let this jerk go through our goddamn bags! Why should I care?”
Duvine lifted out the two blue suitcases belonging to the Lepskis.
“Just these two?” the guard asked.
“The rest is mine,” Duvine said. He handed the cases to Lepski. “Take them in, Tom. It won’t take long,”
The guard handed Lepski back his police warrant, then leading the way, he conducted Lepski, carrying the two suitcases, to the customs house.
“He’s forgotten my vanity case!” Carroll cried.
Duvine very nearly slapped her.
“Forget it!” he whispered urgently. “Your perfume could cause trouble.”
“If you say so.” Carroll got back into the car. “Oh, I do wish Tom wasn’t so difficult!”
“He has so much character.” Claudette said, forcing a bright smile. “These Swiss! I do wish he hadn’t all this bother.”
“He really loves it,” Carroll said. “Don’t worry, honey, about him. It’ll be something he will bore his friends with when he gets home.”
Duvine joined Lepski in the customs house. He found him shaking hands with the Head official who spoke English.
This man, introducing himself as Hans Ulrich, was profuse with apologies.
“Mr Lepski,” he was saying, “it is this Russian icon affair. All our frontier posts have been instructed to search the luggage of all American visitors. My man was only doing his duty. Of course there is no need to check your baggage. I can’t remember when we ever had an American police officer pass through our frontier. Let me tell you it is a great privilege.” He turned to the guard. “Take Mr Lepski’s bags back to the car.”
Duvine closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath of relief.
Leaving Lepski, now beaming, to talk to Ulrich, he followed the guard, took the two suitcases from him and put them in the boot, slamming the lid.
“What is happening?” Carroll demanded.
“Tom’s getting the VIP treatment. No problems,” Duvine said as he slid under the driving wheel.
He and Claudette exchanged quick glances.
The last hurdle had been crossed. The icon had arrived in Switzerland.
Now for Lu Bradey. Now for the switch. Then Radnitz.
eight
During breakfast, served in their room, Lu Bradey explained to Maggie what he wanted her to do. He sat in a chair while Maggie, lying in bed, munched a crisp roll, smothered with black cherry jam.
“I am expecting people to arrive sometime this morning,” Bradey said. “I don’t know exactly when, but it will be in the morning. I have business with them. I don’t want you to be around while I’m with them. I want to talk to them in this room. Are you following me, baby?”
Maggie reached for another roll and began to butter it.
“You want me out of the way? Right?”
“Yeah. First, I want you to pack. Then I want you to take all the things out of your vanity box. I want the box empty. Are you still with me?”
Maggie spread a layer of black cherry jam on her roll, her pretty face slightly contorted with concentration.
“What shall I do with the things from my box?”
Bradey sighed.
“Put them in one of your bags.”
Maggie nodded, her face relaxing. She began to munch again.
“I love this jam!” she exclaimed, her mouth full. “I know I shouldn’t be eating all this bread. I’ll be getting fat!”
Bradey sighed again.
“Enjoy yourself, baby, and listen.”
“I’m right with you, pet. I empty the box, pack all my things and... what else?”
“Once you have packed, you take the elevator down to the basement, go through the tunnel to the swimming pool.”
“But I will have packed my swimsuit, or won’t I have?”
Bradey ran his fingers through his hair.
“Forget your swim suit. You won’t be swimming. You will sit by the pool in the sun and wait until I join you. Got it?”
“I just sit and wait?”
“I’ll get you a book. There’s a new Harold Robbins just out. You dig his books, don’t you?”
Maggie’s face brightened.
“I adore them! The sexy bits turn me on.”
“Okay. So you sit by the pool and read, and I’ll join you as soon as I can. Right?”
Maggie finished her roll, poured more coffee, then nodded.
“If that’s what you want, honey.”
Bradey sighed with relief.
“Fine. After my business talk, we’ll leave. Now, Maggie, it is very important I should find you at the pool. I haven’t the time to look for you if you wander away. As soon as my business talk is over, I want to leave. Understand?”
“I just sit by the pool and read Harold Robbins?”
“That’s what you do. Now, if you have finished breakfast, please pack.”
Maggie examined the breakfast tray, was surprised there were no more rolls, sighed and got reluctantly out of bed.
The time now was 09.15.
“While you are packing, baby, I’m going down to settle the check. Don’t forget to empty the vanity box.”
Leaving her, Bradey took the elevator down to the reception lobby.
Sergas Holtz was sitting in the lounge where he had a clear view of the reception desk. Sure that the Hall porter would be puzzled as to why he was always sitting in the lounge, never going out, Holtz had taken the precaution to explain to both the Hall porter and the reception clerk that he was expecting an important telephone call and had to wait until it came. This explanation satisfied the curiosity of the hotel staff.
He watched Lu Bradey pay the bill. He wandered over to the reception desk and began to study one of the travel folders while he listened.
“I will be leaving shortly,” Bradey was saying to the reception clerk. “Mr Willis will be arriving around two o’clock. Send someone up for my luggage in half an hour.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Bradey then left the hotel and hurried to a bookshop just up the street and bought a copy of the new Robbins novel. Then returning to the hotel, he entered his room. He found Maggie, having had a shower, leisurely dressing.
“Get moving, chick!” he said, a snap in his voice. “They’ll be up in half an hour for the luggage.”
This statement immediately threw Maggie into a panic. She began to stuff anything she could lay hands on into her suitcases.
“Not the goddamn bath towels!” Bradey shouted. “Oh, for God’s sake! Get dressed! I’ll do it!”
By the time the porter came tapping on the door, Bradey had emptied the vanity box, packed the suitcases and put the vanity box out of sight. By this time, flustered, Maggie was dressed. He told the porter to put the bags in his car.
“Now, baby,” he said firmly, “here’s your book. Go to the swimming pool and wait. Right?”
Maggie nodded.
“You will really come for me, honey? We really are going to get married?”
“Just wait,” Bradey said, his patience nearly exhausted. “I’ll come for you and we’ll get married.”