“Frank,” he said. “Call me Frank.”
“Frank,” Sassi said, “you saved my life.”
“If we expect to get repeat business,” Frank said, wiping the bar with a rag, “we got to have satisfied customers. You come in this joint often?”
“Every time I’m in the neighborhood,” Sassi told him. She pushed her glass toward him. “Put a little more sweet vermouth in that, will you?”
“Ugh,” he said, but he did it. Pushing the glass back, he said, “How come I saved your life?”
“Because you’re good-hearted, I guess,” she said. “Is there a radio around here?”
“You want to hear the news?”
There was a gleam in his eye. She pointed at him and said, “You do Walter Cronkite, I’m walking out.”
The gleam faded, but then he looked reminiscent instead. “You know who I, miss?” he said. “John Cameron Swayze. I could do a John Cameron Swayze to make you look for the picture, but what good is it now?”
“I’d look for the off switch,” she said.
“That’s the trouble with you big stars,” he told her. “Jealous of the talents on the way up.”
Sassi started to laugh, but then she thought, That’s ridiculous. I’m swapping jokes with a guy that kidnapped me. Then she thought, What the hell, and went on laughing.
It was midnight, and the Major and Miss Rushby were playing gin. The Major was dealing, till Miss Rushby said, “I saw that. Seconds. You gave yourself my card.”
The Major looked at the deck in his hands and shook his head. “I must be getting tired,” he said. “We’ll just play this hand, and then to bed.”
“My card, Alfred.”
The Major pushed a card from his side of the table to hers.
“Not that one,” she said, pushed it back, and selected another. “This one.”
He grabbed her hand. “Not that one either, and you know it.”
“The deuce of diamonds,” she said. “I’ll swear that’s the deuce of diamonds.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “Here’s the deuce of diamonds.” He flipped over a third card. Touching a fourth, he said, “This one’s yours.”
“Then I’m getting tired, too.” she said. “Enough of cards.” She pushed back from the table, got to her feet, and stretched in a restricted and ladylike way.
The Major, riffling the cards together, said, “The question is, what about these young men?”
“They do come in handy,” Miss Rushby said. “Guarding the prisoners and so on. And their ransom idea is brilliant.”
“The question remains,” the Major said. “What about afterward?”
“I should think,” Miss Rushby said, “they’ll be watching for us to do something to their boat. So perhaps we’d best do something to our own instead, and when the time comes, leave in theirs. We will have to give up Redoubtable in any event, after this.”
“That would mean,” the Major said, “getting the key from young Kelly. Not too easy, that.”
“It just might be possible,” Miss Rushby said. “The Jigger person is still somewhat confused about my status, and if anyone could slip the key away from Kelly it would be she. And if I were to suggest it to her, to help us escape—”
“Capital!” said the Major. “Just the ticket.”
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” The Major riffled the cards. “One more hand before bed?”
“Oh, Alfred,” Miss Rushby said, and sat down. “But mind your dealing,” she said.
(2)
Breakfast
Miss Rushby raised the meat clever high and brought it down with a clop on the chopping block. When she raised it again, the tea bag was in two sections. She discarded the section with the tag, the staple, and the empty end of bag, carefully picked up the full section and emptied it into the teapot on the counter to her left. She then took another tea bag from the package, placed it carefully on the block, and raised the meat clever again.
A voice said, “Wouldn’t it be easier—?”
“Oh,” said Miss Rushby, and jumped a foot. Dropping the cleaver on the counter, she looked around and saw Sassi Manoon standing there, just as startled as she was. She said, “My dear, don’t ever come up behind a person without a sound like that.”
“I’m sorry,” Sassi said. “I know how that is.” She looked past Miss Rushby. “I was going to say,” she said, “wouldn’t it be easier to do that with scissors?”
“What, this?” Miss Rushby looked at the bag on the block. “Yes, I suppose it would,” she said. “But there weren’t any in the utensil drawer. And besides, I do detest these little bandages so.” She picked up the clever again. “Not that the tea inside them is worth the effort,” she said, and decapitated another tea bag.
Sassi said, “Is there anything I can do? You’re making breakfast, aren’t you?”
“What there is,” Miss Rushby said. “No eggs, I’m afraid. But there was some bacon in the freezer downstairs, I have a package thawing in that warm water there. And we have powdered everything. Powdered coffee, powdered milk, powdered hotcake mix.”
“The way I see it,” Sassi said, “we add water to the powdered milk, then add that to the powdered hotcake mix. We add water to the powdered coffee, then we combine the watered powdered coffee and the watered powdered milk. Too bad we don’t have powdered sugar.”
“We have,” Miss Rushby said, pointing at a cabinet. “Confectioners’.”
“Never mind,” Sassi said, and Kelly came in. Sassi said to him, “You want pancakes?”
“Hotcakes,” said Miss Rushby.
“Flapjacks,” Kelly said. “But all I want is coffee.”
“There’s powdered,” Miss Rushby said.
“Instant,” said Kelly. “Do you need a match with this stove?”
“Yes,” Miss Rushby said, a trifle stiffly. She didn’t like having all her words rejected like that.
Alfred came in, then, smoothing his mustache. “Morning, Adelaide,” he said. “Lovely day. Lovely.”
“Good morning,” said Miss Rushby. “Yes, it is.”
“Sea air,” Alfred announced. “Nothing like it to give one an appetite.”
“I’m making pancakes,” Sassi told him.
He looked pleased. “You mean hotcakes?”
“She means flapjacks,” Kelly said.
“Six for me,” Alfred said, unperturbed.
For a while nothing further was said. Miss Rushby finished slaughtering tea bags and put the water on to boil. Kelly was making coffee. Sassi was making pancakes and had dragooned Alfred into making milk.
Miss Rushby had been hoping to talk to Jigger before breakfast, but obviously that was not to be. Oh, well, afterward would serve. At the moment the kitchen was steadily filling up. Frank came in next, and Miss Rushby set him to setting the table.
Robby came in a few minutes after Frank. He sniffed the air and said, “Ah! Wheatcakes!”
“Flapjacks,” said Kelly.
“Hotcakes,” said Miss Rushby.
“Pancakes,” said Sassi.
“I believe Adelaide is right,” said Alfred judiciously.
“Sassi’s right,” said Frank.
“Thank you, Frank,” said Sassi.
“I’ll have one of each,” said Robby.
“Actually,” Alfred said, still as judiciously, “I believe I’ve also heard them spoken of as slapjacks.”
“You mean flapjacks,” said Kelly.
“No, I don’t believe I do. I believe I mean slapjacks.”
Jigger strolled in then, looking as sullen as usual, but all at once her face lighted up. She sniffed, looked around happily, and said, “Griddlecakes!”