10

The Nieuw Amsterdam docked on a lovely day near the middle of April, with the Palisades across the river in New Jersey showing scattered patches of green trying to gain a foothold between the band of factories at the river’s edge and the stepped outline of houses silhouetted on the heights, and with the sun bright off the river. Kek waved to the excited Lisa at the ship’s rail, waited impatiently while she came through customs, and then picked her up in a bearhug, kissing her, and almost carrying her down the steps to the street level while a porter followed with her luggage. They piled into a cab and Kek leaned over and kissed his lovely wife again, surprised at the depth of his pleasure at her return.

“And how was the trip?”

“Wonderful! But didn’t you get my letters?”

“Of course I got your letters, the few there were. I meant, how were things on the ship.”

“Marvelous! All the staff asked for you,” Lisa said. “All the officers, and even the captain.”

“And were all very pleased that I was not aboard, eh?” Kek grinned.

“I think so,” Lisa said, and laughed.

“And you got that tan on the ship?”

“This? Heavens, no. It was freezing on deck.” She glanced down at her décolletage, placed a finger there to pull it a bit lower to examine the clear mark of demarcation between brown and white, and then looked up to see Kek watching intently. She smiled at him and took his hand. “This I got in Switzerland. Didn’t I write? After two months of practically living with farm equipment here, I just couldn’t stand Maastricht for too long.” She looked out of the cab window as if she had never seen the city before. “Oh, Kek, I never knew New York could be so nice!”

“It’s just because you’re home again, sweet. It must be, because if you’re talking about the weather, you happened to come back during one of the three months when it’s tolerable. They have two in the spring and one in the fall.” He tightened his arm around her, smiling down at her. It was wonderful to have Lisa back again. “By the way, did you manage to see Waldeck?”

“Of course. You asked me to, didn’t you? Actually—can you imagine?—I ran into him first on the Jungfrau. He was spending the weekend there skiing. And then I saw him in Brussels again before I left. Which reminds me, he gave me some letters for you.” She started to fumble within her purse.

Kek put his large hand over hers, snapping the purse closed.

“They can wait, sweet. Did he say anything of importance?”

“Well, he said that the forfeiture date was May first—that’s two weeks from now. And he said everything was taken care of on his end and he’d be coming over around that time. I think the letters explain it in greater detail.” She frowned a moment and then nodded, her face clearing. “Oh, yes. He said now the money was all handled he was going to give up the business …”

“What?” Kew stared at her. “I hope the damned fool wasn’t thinking of bankruptcy, or anything like that!”

“Don’t get so excited, darling.” She smiled at him. “Actually, you know, he was thinking of it until I talked some sense into him. He—”

“My God! An idiot!”

“Yes, darling, but it’s all right now. He really does need a guardian, though. Now he’s going to sell the company as a going concern. After all, I told him, the company still has value if only for the organization his father built up over the years, and the goodwill from the name. I told him Waldeck Imports is an important name and he could get money for it, so why should he give it away? He said he thought that bankruptcy would be the sort of shameful thing to cause a man to run to another country. I told him he could sell the company and come to the States with equal logic. He really isn’t very bright, you know,” she added.

“I know,” Kek agreed, and visibly relaxed.

“Anyway, he had already managed a customer by the time I left. It won’t be much—that he gets from the sale, I mean—but it’s better than going into bankruptcy, isn’t it? There are bound to be fewer inquiries, aren’t there?”

“There certainly are,” Kek said fervently. “What a narrow escape! I only hope he has enough sense to pull the correspondence out of his files regarding our transactions before he turns over the keys!”

“Oh, he will,” Lisa said airily. “I told him to.”

Kek laughed. “You’re marvelous! We’d have been in a jam. I’m just happy you were there.”

“And also that I’m smart.”

“Or smarter than Vries Waldeck, at any rate,” Kek amended, and smiled at her affectionately.

Lisa dropped the subject of Vries Waldeck, looking obliquely at her husband with a pretense of wifely suspicion in her light blue eyes.

“And just what have you been doing while I’ve been gone?”

“Nothing like you’re thinking,” Kek said, and managed to sound a bit forlorn that events had contrived to make this so. “Actually, chasing from one bank to the next, keeping our company accounts active and up one day and down the next. You know, once the escrow deposits were all in—and the first came the day you left—I found I had a tendency to let things slide, but then I realized this could also attract attention, so I had to go back to the old schedule, depositing and withdrawing, withdrawing and depositing.”

“Poor one,” Lisa said with sickeningly false sympathy. “And after your banks closed? Which I believe they do at three o’clock?”

“One of them stays open until four,” Kek said in self-defense. His smile faded. “Then, my sweet, in all honesty, I spent most of my time worrying. Worrying that something might go wrong, although no matter how I studied it, I couldn’t see where anything possibly could.” He shook his head. “Well, this bankruptcy thing of Waldeck’s could have been one thing to go wrong, and it never even occurred to me. So now I’m going to worry twice as much, wondering what else never even occurred to me.” He sighed. “Well, I only have two more weeks in which to worry. At least that’s something.”

“We’ll keep busy for the two weeks, and you won’t have time to worry. What’ll we do during the two weeks?”

The cab was drawing to the curb before their apartment. Kek paid the driver, accepted the many bags as they were laboriously thrust at him through the cab door, and started carrying them into the lobby. He finally managed to pile them all into the small elevator, crowd Lisa in beside them, and squeeze in between the mountains of luggage and the door. He twisted about to punch the button and then relaxed as the elevator started up. Lisa looked at him with an innocent expression.

“You didn’t answer me, darling. What are your plans for the next two weeks?”

“One day at a time,” Kek said, and smiled. “Anyway, we can talk about it in the morning.”

“But, darling,” Lisa said. “It is morning.”

“It’s morning today,” Kek conceded, and drew back as the door slid open. He started unloading the bags, one foot spread-eagled to hold the door open. “I’m talking about tomorrow morning, sweet.”

“Oh. But I’m starved,” Lisa said in a little girl’s voice. “We had breakfast on board that big, bad boat at six in the morning.” Her voice returned to normal. “Can you imagine?”

“I can imagine,” Kek said. He opened the apartment door and began carrying the bags in two at a time, setting them in the middle of the living room temporarily. “Well,” he said, pausing in his labors a moment, “all right. Food, I mean.” He raised a warning finger. “But that’s all. No other distractions allowed.”

Lisa walked across the room and struck a stance, one hip out, her mouth chewing imaginary gum, her bag twirling slowly around a finger.

“Did I ask for anything else, Mr. Huuygens?” she asked with a mischievous smile. I’m just lucky my mother told me all about men and their beastlike appetites.” She dropped her pose. “And speaking of appetites, if there’s anything in the house, I’ll even be cooperative enough to fix something for myself right here.”

“Why not?” Kek demanded. “You’re an ex-cook, aren’t you?”

“Can I get anything for you, darling?” She read the answer in his eyes and went on. “In that case you can read the letters M’sieu Waldeck sent while I’m eating.” She opened her purse, bringing them out.

“Right.”

He carried the bundle of letters, neatly held together by a rubber band, into the living room, stepped over a suitcase and dropped down on the couch, sliding the letters free and opening the first. It was addressed to the United States Agricultural Equipment Company. Before reading it he leafed through the other letters. Each was addressed to a different one of the five companies and, he suspected, each carried much the same message as the others. He leaned back, lit a cigarette, and started on the first one, skipping the heading, getting right to the body of the letter:

Dear Mr. Tenza:

I am most sorry to inform you that due to circumstances beyond the control of the Waldeck Imports Company, we shall not be able to furnish the balance of letters of credit as required in your detailed quotation of January 18th, 1949, and as accepted by our formal purchase order dated January 28th, 1949.

The recent change in the board of directors of the Tobacco Growers Association, added to the recent rumors of a merger between this association and the largest manufacturer of cigarettes in this country, have led to second thoughts regarding the installation at the present time of the four drying lines and auxiliary equipment we contemplated when we placed the order with your company.

We realize that the amount of the deposit placed in escrow to your account in the Argonaut Bank of New York will probably not cover the manufacturing costs to which you have been put at this late date, but we wish to point out that the deposit, according to our contract, clearly limits our obligation and completes the transaction. We can only hope you are able to dispose of the portion of the order that has been completed to some other customer and thus salvage a portion of your loss.

We, unfortunately, are in a worse position, since our agreement with the Tobacco Growers Association was only a verbal one, based on years of friendship and dealings with the director who has been replaced, and I am afraid for this reason that our loss may even exceed yours. Unfortunately, our company is not insured against losses of this nature.

In any event, please accept my personal assurances of deep regret at this turn of events. By separate letter we are informing the Banque Nationale to instruct the Argonaut Bank to release this escrow deposit on May 1, the agreed upon date.

Sincerely,

Vries Waldeck

VW/km

Kek studied the letter for several moments and then laid it aside with a frown, picking up the second and reading it very carefully. Each letter, he found as he went through them one by one, was almost a duplicate of the others, and he shook his head slowly. He could only hope that the “separate” letters sent to the individual banks in Belgium were different in both context and tone from the ones he held. Changes in directorships were matters of record, and the thought that an old-line company such as Waldeck Imports might accept one verbal order could be believed, but that they would accept five such verbal orders within a short period of time could scarcely be accepted, not even when the business was being run by the idiot son rather than the father. Kek could only hope that Waldeck had considered these facts, or that there was no Banker’s Club in Brussels where the affairs of Waldeck Imports might be discussed.

Still, as far as the New York end of the business was concerned, there was no doubt the letters would prove useful when the time to liquidate the accounts came around. He just had to assume Waldeck was smart enough to know what he was doing, which was a frightening thought in itself. Worry, worry, worry he said to himself with a wry smile, and then looked up.

Lisa stood in the doorway, wearing a lacy peignoir that was almost, but not quite, transparent. She tried to look apologetic.

“I hate to take up the time of a busy man—”

Kek put aside the letters instantly and came to his feet.

“Don’t you know,” he said, smiling, “that a busy man is always the only one who has the time?”

The first of May dawned clear and warm, and Kek Huuygens, walking from the apartment to his first stop of the day—the nearby Lexington branch of the Battery Bank—tried his best to relax. The day was perfect, with just the slightest touch of breeze coming up from the river and easing itself about the building corners; the sun glinted from thousands of windows along Lexington’s taller buildings; all in all it was a day to make a man feel glad to be alive, but the fact remained that Kek was nervous. Normally the last man in the world to allow his nerves the least latitude in evading discipline, he could feel himself becoming more tense with each step. He consoled himself with the thought that he had never played for stakes anywhere near as high in the past; and he added to this excuse the fact that he had never had to work with a rank amateur such as Waldeck before. What he could not admit to himself was that despite the minute scrutiny to which he had constantly put the plan for the past month, he could still see nothing wrong with it and therefore was all the more disturbed because his feeling of impending disaster refused to go away. And while not superstitious, he had long since come to highly respect his hunches.

He came to the tall glass doors, took a deep breath, and pushed bravely through. He walked to the elevators with a firm step, no outward sign revealing his inner turmoil, and pressed the button. The door slid back instantly; apparently he was not to be allowed even a moment’s reprieve before seeing Mr. Fairbanks. And would he see only Mr. Fairbanks? Or would he walk into the office and find Mr. Fairbanks accompanied by two or more wooden-faced gentlemen with badges in their pockets and questions on their lips? Well, he thought with a touch of his old ebullience, there’s one sure way to find out, and that’s to go up and see. He squared his shoulders and stepped inside the small elevator cab.

Gloria studied his face as he came through the door and then dropped her eyes to her typewriter, her usual pleasant smile strangely missing. Kek felt a slight touch of panic, very odd with him, and forced it away, smiling at the girl in his normal manner.

“Is Mr. Fairbanks in? Could I see him, please?”

“He was expecting you,” Gloria said, her eyes avoiding his face. “You can go in.”

He hesitated a moment and then reached for the knob of the inner door. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought, and twisted it, pushing the door open, fully expecting a reception committee, but Mr. Fairbanks was alone, staring up at him sadly.

“Jan, my boy! Sit down. You received notice, I’m sure. Tell me, how badly does it hurt your company?”

Sudden relief flooded Huuygens. He dropped into a chair, happy for its support, managing to look doleful, staring somberly across the desk into the sympathetic blue eyes.

“We’ll survive,” he said bravely. “We’ve been in business a long time, and we’re far from poor. But I’ll admit it came as somewhat of a shock, and more than somewhat of a disappointment. I’ve been on the phone with my brothers half the night, and they tell me the equipment is very nearly completed.” He shook his head. “They also feel I should have checked into this Waldeck Imports a bit more thoroughly.”

“Nonsense, my boy! I did check, as I told you! Waldeck Imports is an excellent company! Excellent! It’s just—” Mr. Fairbanks shrugged unhappily, temporarily at a loss for words. “Well,” he said at last, preempting his post-luncheon language, “I guess it’s just one of those sons-of-bitching things.”

“Yes. Well,” Kek said, getting to his feet slowly, “there’s no sense in crying over spilt milk. I’ll just have to get to work and make it up, I suppose. I don’t want my brothers to decide to close the New York office for good, just about the time I’m getting to like the place.”

“Oh, my!” Mr. Fairbanks put a blue-veined hand up to his mouth, envisioning either lonely lunches at the restaurant on the corner, or having to return to the Banker’s Club with its parsimonious bartender. “Oh, I certainly hope not!”

“I’ll drink to that,” Kek said, and smiled for the first time since he entered the office. He wiped the smile away, getting down to business. “Are there any papers to be signed?”

“There are always papers to be signed,” Mr. Fairbanks said, forcing himself to be as brave as his guest. “If there weren’t papers to be signed in great profusion, we could probably cut the staff of an average bank in half.” He reached over and switched a lever on the intercom. “Gloria, would you please ask Mr. Brennan in Export to come down? Tell him to bring the Washington Harvester file, too, will you? Thank you.”

He hung up and leaned back in his swivel chair. The two men waited in silence, their fund of humor exhausted, until there was an apologetic tap on the door and Mr. Brennan appeared. The papers he brought were remarkably simple and required little time, and when Huuygens had finished scrawling his signature, Jan Vrebal, across the bottom of each, his company checking account had been enriched by the sum of $937,552. Mr. Brennan handed him a receipt until the amount could be added to his checking balance record, gathered up his papers, and disappeared. At no time had the manager of the Export Department seemed to consider the matter anything but routine.

Mr. Fairbanks rose as the door closed on Brennan. He held out his hand. His voice was sad, almost pleading.

“Jan, my boy, don’t let one little setback stop you. You were doing fine before this foreign thing—”

“That foreign thing,” Kek said evenly, “lost our company roughly ten times all that I made when I was doing fine.” He shrugged. “However, the decision is up to my brothers.”

“It would be a pity if you had to leave town and we couldn’t lunch together anymore. In fact, how about lunch today? You look as if a good liquid diet wouldn’t harm you a bit.”

“I wish I could.” Kek was completely sincere; he knew he was going to sweat through every bank encounter he planned for that day. His fear of last-minute disaster remained. “But I can’t. I’ve really got to get busy. I’ve a lot to do.” He moved toward the door.

“Just don’t forget us,” Mr. Fairbanks said, and came around the desk to escort him through the outer office. He put his arm around the husky shoulders of his young friend. “Just don’t forget us.”

“I won’t,” Kek promised, and meant it.

He closed the door behind him and walked slowly toward the elevator. He only wished he could continue to see Mr. Fairbanks for lunch now and then in the future, but he knew it wouldn’t be wise. And wisdom was what had kept him free of trouble for many years. It was a pity, he thought, but it was a part of the price one had to pay …

“Can’t say I’m terribly surprised,” said the vice-president of the Argonaut Bank. “Bunch of damned foreigners, what can you expect? Most of them Commies, pulling stunts like that, just to wreck American industry. And after all we’ve done for them! Trying to ruin us, and mostly with our own money, too. No sense trying to help people like that, eh? Stab you in the back every chance they get. A bit different from the West, eh, Johnny? Not the same thing as Old Arizona in the good old U.S.A., eh? Where a man’s word is his bond, and a handshake’s as good as an affidavit? I mean, it means something. I know, I know! Flew down to Phoenix and back just a month or so ago. Only a day there, but still—” He paused and took off again. “I’ll admit that Waldeck outfit had a good reputation, at least on paper, but I’ll bet any amount you want to name that a few bucks in the right hands over there and you can buy any rating you want in any register they’ve got. Bunch of thieves! Goes to show we haven’t any business monkeying around with them. And we didn’t have during the war! Allies! Just those pinkos in Washington saving the Ruskies, that’s all! Well—there are a few papers to sign, and I guess that’s about it, Johnny. Sorry to see it happen to a good old American is all I can say, especially when it’s done by some damned Frog or Polack. Don’t get me wrong, Johnny. I know your dad was born in the old country—hell, so was my grandfather—and I know you talk funny because you spoke Polack at home; but your dad was naturalized and that makes you as good an American as anybody, in my book. I mean it. Never was one for prejudices …”

The rhetoric at the other banks ranged between Mr. Fairbanks’ kindliness and the Argonaut VP’s paranoia, but the transfer of the escrow funds to each of Huuygens’ company accounts was just as easily accomplished at the others he visited in succession—

Until, of course, he came to the last one: the North River Bank …

The North River Bank was located on West Street in the financial district, or rather, on the less-reputable edge of the financial district. It had offered, to Kek, an out-of-the-way location, plus a wealth of experience in matters of shipping and imports, plus a vice-president he admired almost as much as he admired Mr. Fairbanks, although he had never attempted to test Mr. Zak’s capacity in matters of alcohol. In addition, Mr. Zak had neither lived outside of Manhattan nor traveled at all, nor did he wish to; he thought Pocatello, Idaho, an imaginary location invented for the sole purpose of vaudeville—if he thought of it at all. He liked Mr. John Debroski because he was young, friendly, and because his own grandfather had been Polish.

Kek reached this last of the five banks with a little better than four million dollars already added to his other accounts in a matter of less than six hours, and he could see no great problem here, certainly not with Mr. Zak. He had, as a matter of fact, once attempted Mr. Zak’s memory of Polish and, sadly, found it wanting. Beyond tâk and dôbre poor Mr. Zak had squandered his heritage. But it had established an unbreakable bond between the two.

Huuygens walked into the bank, glancing at his watch. There was ample time; the North River Bank believed in the old virtues and kept its doors open until four. He entered the elevator and rode to the second floor, idly wondering why all bank vice-presidents were automatically assigned to this level. Possibly not to damage themselves if called upon to jump, he thought with a faint smile, and entered Mr. Zak’s office. He was prepared for the woebegone look on the secretary’s face, because he had met it four times before that day; but this time her excuse was different.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Debroski. Mr. Zak is busy at the moment. Could you wait? He shouldn’t be long.”

“Of course,” Kek said pleasantly, no sense of disaster even faintly clouding the horizon. He seated himself, picked up an ancient copy of Banking Methods—it was the best choice of the magazines available—and began to leaf through it. His boredom was brought to a quick end, however, for he had not even reached the editorials when the door to the inner office opened and Mr. Harold Zak appeared with his visitor. The two shook hands politely and parted, the visitor turning to face Kek. For a moment there was a tableau, both standing frozen, staring. Then Mr. Zak’s visitor said in an expressionless tone:

“Huuygens. Kek Huuygens!”

For a second the shock of hearing his name, especially in this place where he had almost come to think of himself as John Debroski, caused him to fail to recognize the other. Then it became clear; it was the chief inspector of the New York customs office, a man he had seen more times than he cared to remember. What a time to run into him! Although in a way it was a relief to have the masquerade over, yet his inner mind could not help but add, it does seem a shame at this late date. So close! So very close!

And then that brain that had resolved so many problems in the past finally woke up, coming to life, taking this problem in its stride and refusing to accept defeat.

He bowed slightly in the direction of the other with a broad smile.

“I wish I had time for us to talk, Mr. Jennings. Kek Huuygens,” he added politely, and taking Mr. Zak’s arm led him into the inner office and closed the door. Behind them Mr. Jennings stared after them a moment and then shrugged in non-understanding and left the office. As long as Huuygens didn’t pass through customs, they had no reason to bother him.

Mr. Zak was frowning at his friend. “He called you Kek Huuygens, John?”

“You obviously don’t speak Flemish,” Kek said easily, and smiled at the other. He waited while Mr. Zak seated himself back of his desk and then sat down across from him. “Kek Huuygens in Flemish means ‘my sergeant.’ We were in the war together. He was in the American Commandos—” It was the truth; Huuygens’ brain computerized whatever other information about Jennings he had, even as his calm voice continued in its relaxed manner. “—and I was in the French Army. I was a sergeant and so was he. I taught him the word for ‘sergeant’—actually, for ‘my sergeant’. So whenever we meet”—he shrugged, a light smile on his lips, a cold-heavy weight in his stomach—“he calls me Kek Huuygens.”

Was it even faintly possible that anyone would believe it?

“Kek Huuygens.” Mr. Zak smiled. “Flemish, eh? ‘My sergeant.’ I’ll have to remember that. I never made more than corporal.” He suddenly looked concerned. “Is it too warm in here? I’ll have the heat turned down.”

“No, no,” Kek said, and wiped his brow again. “It’s nothing. The heat is fine.”

Mr. Zak suddenly remembered the reason for the other’s visit and his concern changed direction. “I imagine you’ve been notified—” he began.

“Yes,” Kek said, and sighed the sigh he had been wanting to release for several minutes. “I’ve had the notification.”

“Ah!” Zak became all business. He fished among the folders on his desk, uncovering the proper one. “Your signature is all that’s required, John, and we can transfer the funds to your account. I know it won’t compensate for your loss. A pity …”

“A pity, indeed,” Kek said, and scrawled his signature across the papers with a slightly shaking hand.

Mr. Zak gathered them together. “But one can’t allow one defeat to determine the outcome of an entire war,” he said stoutly, and looked at the other sympathetically. “Can one—Kek Huuygens?”

Kek opened the door of the apartment wearily, pocketed his keys, and walked into the living room. There was a light from Lisa’s bedroom, but he didn’t bother to investigate. He dropped his hat and coat on a chair, walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a large brandy, taking it down in one gulp. He held out his hand, studying the outstretched fingers. For several seconds it was firm, rigid, unbending; then it began to tremble with increasing intensity. He forced his fist to clench, holding it tightly a moment, straining, and then opened it, reaching out, pouring a second drink. The brandy seemed to have helped; he felt the euphoric relief of tension disappearing. He loosened his necktie, lighted a cigarette, and went to the sofa, lowering himself into its welcome comfort, relaxing for the first time that day.

Lisa came in from the bedroom, frowning at him. “Well?”

Kek smiled at her and winked. He took a drink and puffed on the cigarette, luxuriating. “Well, what?”

“Don’t be cute,” Lisa said, and for the first time the strain showed in her voice and in her blue eyes which seemed to become a darker blue, almost sapphire. Even her voice seemed to lose some of its aplomb. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Kek said equably. “Waldeck Imports failed to fulfill their part of the contracts, and were penalized accordingly. Every bank I visited—and I visited all five of them—was sorry to see a nice fellow like me suffer such cavalier treatment, but they were pleased that at least a part of the loss to our company was covered. They forced the escrow money on me, and at the present time Mr. Vries Waldeck’s five million dollars are on deposit and ready to be withdrawn.” He smiled humorlessly. “All right?”

Lisa collapsed into a chair, staring at him.

“You mean it worked? The scheme actually worked?”

“Yes, it actually worked. You sound as if you had doubts that it would.” He tried to sound light. “Scarcely the proper attitude for a helpmate to take.”

“You know what I mean. I mean—”

“I do know what you mean, probably better than you do. It’s a funny thing,” Kek said, sitting forward and frowning at the rug, his voice no longer light, “it’s hard to believe. You know, one dreams up a scheme and manages to put it into operation. One obviously avoids all the pitfalls he can imagine, but at the moment of success, it’s still hard to believe. One worries and worries, and then finds the worries were all for nothing. Or almost for nothing. That worries can be handled; problems coped with. That the scheme wasn’t hare-brained after all, but extremely practical. Amazing, isn’t it?” He drained his glass and looked at Lisa. “When did you say Waldeck was coming over?”

“I told you. He said he was planning on leaving as soon after the first of May as he could. He plans to take a plane to London and then the boat train to Southampton and catch one of the Queens. He thought it might be faster.”

“It will be,” Kek said, and sat up straighter. He smiled across the room. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go back to being a secretary for a few moments, sweet; I’m just too tired to get up. Call Cunard and find out which ship he’s most likely to catch, and when it’s due in.”

“Yes, Master.” Lisa disappeared into the den. Kek replenished his drink while he waited. She returned in minutes. “The Queen Elizabeth sails tomorrow. It’s due in on the seventh, a week from yesterday.”

“Ah!” Kek reseated himself. “Fine! That should give us ample time to clear the accounts and have the proceeds of our little plan all ready to divide.” He looked at her. “You gave him our address and telephone number here, I assume?”

“You told me to, didn’t you?”

“I did indeed.”

“And we’re going to have five million dollars in cash in the house until he gets here?”

Kek sighed. “You have cash on the brain again, sweet.

No. I have no idea of how much room five million dollars in reasonably sized American bills would take up, but probably more than our safe provides. And I shouldn’t like to have to cram the excess in drawers or old shoes until Waldeck shows up.”

“Then—”

“And,” Kek continued, a twinkle in his eye, “I think if I walked into the banks and withdrew about a million dollars in cash from each one, eyebrows might well be raised. Even—God forbid!—questions asked.”

“Then how—?”

“Well,” Kek said easily, “first we’ll pay our debt to my Swiss friend’s friends—by check, dated tomorrow and delivered by hand tomorrow—which will save us roughly ten thousand dollars in interest, which in turn will pay for the catalogs and some of the stamps you used. And then we will buy bearer bonds with the balance, my sweet, purchased from five different, highly reputable brokerage houses, paid for by the company checks on each bank, to be delivered once the check clears. Which, of course, it will do. Simple?” He smiled and answered his own question. “Simple.”

Lisa came to her feet and walked to the bar. She filled a glass with ice and poured a generous dollop of Scotch on top of it. She raised the glass in his direction.

“A toast to you, darling,” she said, “for a wonderful idea.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Kek said modestly, and then grinned. “You’ve also given me another reason for being happy the scheme worked. Do you know that’s the first time you’ve called me ‘darling’ in over a week?”

The Queen Elizabeth docked at six in the morning, and even before the ship’s hawsers had been tossed to the men below and the leviathan snugged to the pier for gangplanks to be laid in place, Vries Waldeck was in the purser’s lobby waiting for shore telephones to be installed, anxious to be first in line. He stood there, impatient, completely impervious to the press of humanity about him, or the rising babble of voices asking hundreds of questions, or the two lines that formed, one behind him, for the use of the instruments once they were installed. He watched as the installation man set the telephones on the small table assigned for that use, bit his lip in irritation as they wasted time calling a number to check their work, and grabbed at one of the phones as soon as they stepped back.

He dialed the number Lisa had given him, sure that he was wasting his time, positive that there would be no answer, convinced that Huuygens was far away by now with the five million dollars, and confident—as he had been throughout his entire journey—that he had been an utter fool to have trusted a man with Huuygens’ reputation in the first place. To his surprise the telephone was answered instantly. Waldeck’s first suspicion was that he must have dialed a wrong number, or that Lisa had lied to him. The latter was an even more disturbing thought.

“Gleba? Jack Gleba?”

Huuygens sounded reasonably wide awake considering the hour.

“Of Gleba, Vrebal, Klees, Tenza, and Debroski. It sounds like a one-man law firm.” He yawned and then asked curiously, “What took you so long to call? The Cunard office said the ship would dock at six and I expected your call about one minute afterward.”

Waldeck was impervious to the sarcasm; he didn’t even recognize it as such. He was simply conscious of a great relief.

“The telephone men—they took so long making the connections.” He took a deep breath, still unable to believe that Huuygens had kept his word, had not disappeared with the money. “You’ll be home? I’ll get there as soon as I clear customs.”

“It would be my suggestion,” Kek said easily, “that before you come here you check into a hotel, possibly even get a little rest, and then at nine o’clock go to some bank and arrange a safe-deposit box. After that, come over here.”

“Nine o’clock?” Waldeck’s tone made the idea seem ludicrous. “I’ll be there as soon as I get through customs. I’ll check my bags here; I can get a hotel later. And I can—” He stopped abruptly, suddenly aware that he was speaking in the presence of several hundred people. “I’ll see you later,” he said curtly, and hung up.

Kek looked at Lisa, who was curled up on the couch across from him, wrapped in a dressing gown. “He’ll be here as soon as he clears customs. He appears to be the impatient type.” He yawned and stretched. “Well, I suppose we ought to put some coffee on.”

Lisa nodded and uncurled herself. She moved to the kitchen; Kek got to his feet and went in to shower and dress.

The doorbell rang as he was slipping into the loose sweater he preferred around the apartment. He walked to the door and opened it. Waldeck stood there, a large suitcase in his hand, looking at Huuygens as if he expected him to disappear before his eyes.

“Have you got the money?”

“Come in and sit down,” Kek said, trying to sound kindly. “There’s coffee and if you want eggs or toast, Lisa will fix it.” He glanced at the suitcase. “What’s the suitcase for? Are the hotels crowded?”

Waldeck closed the door behind him and moved farther into the room, the suitcase gripped tightly in his hand, disregarding Kek’s words. His voice was harsh.

“I said, do you have it?”

“The money? Of course I have it. Relax!”

“I want to see it.”

“Before coffee?”

Waldeck’s voice tightened. “I said I want to see it. Now!”

Huuygens sighed. “You’re an impetuous man,” he said sadly. “You’ll end up with ulcers. Well, all right. Come along.” He led the way into the den. Waldeck followed him warily, as if someone might suddenly appear from behind a door or from a closet and attack him before he collected. Huuygens squatted before the small safe and dialed the combination. He swung the door open and pulled out a heavy manila envelope.

Waldeck frowned. “You can’t have the money in there!”

“You’re as bad as Lisa,” Kek said calmly, and straightened up, carrying the envelope to the desk and beginning to untie the string that had bound it. “To you the only money is cash. I’m surprised at you.” He opened the envelope and withdrew a thick stack of ornately decorated certificates. “These are bearer bonds, which are as good as cash—as you ought to know. And a lot easier to handle, a lot less bulky, and safer in every way.” He nodded toward a chair across the desk. “Sit down.”

Waldeck dropped into the chair, setting his suitcase beside him as if appreciating its unsuitability, and reached for one of the certificates. He studied it intently.

“It’s legitimate,” Kek said dryly. He reached over, picking the paper from Waldeck’s fingers and adding it to the pile.

“It’s all there?”

“Less one hundred thousand dollars for the interest and expenses,” Kek said. He slid open the desk drawer and drew out an envelope. “The receipts are here if you want to check.” Waldeck said nothing; his eyes were frozen on the stack of notes. “There are four hundred and ninety bonds here,” Huuygens went on smoothly. “Each worth ten thousand dollars. You get three hundred and ninety of them. I keep one hundred.” He looked at the other sardonically. “Shall I count them, or will you?”

“Start counting,” Waldeck said hoarsely, and hitched his chair closer.

“Right.” Kek began, counting off his hundred, laying the smaller pile aside, and then moving to the balance. Waldeck’s lips moved silently as he counted along with the other. Kek finished at last and looked up. Waldeck’s eyes, oddly enough, had shifted with the final certificate; they were locked almost hypnotically on the smaller pile that was Huuygens’ share. For one instant Kek had a cold feeling at the look of pure avarice on the other’s face, and then he put the thought away. Just be happy, he said to himself, that you’re through dealing with this character. Everything worked out fine, Lisa and I have a million dollars in bearer bonds safely in hand, in two months it will have been converted to cash and safe in some deposit box in some bank, and if we never see Waldeck again, it will be soon enough.

Waldeck apparently felt the same way. He forced his eyes away from the small stack on Huuygens’ side of the desktop, placed his bundle in his inner pocket, and came to his feet, holding his empty suitcase. Kek took his share and slid it back into the safe.

“Coffee, anyone?” Lisa, dressed, stood in the doorway.

Waldeck’s cold eyes assessed the woman carefully, as if she might be an adversary he should worry about. “Madame …” He bowed slightly from the waist with almost Teutonic precision.

“M’sieu Waldeck. Vries.” Lisa smiled at him in a friendly manner. “Would you like some coffee? Or breakfast? I can make you something in a few minutes …”

“Thank you, no, madame. M’sieu … Madame …” His eyes flickered briefly toward the safe a moment and there was a momentary touch of bitterness in them, undoubtedly at the thought of Huuygens’ portion, and then returned to the other two. “If you will pardon me …” The door closed behind him with a click containing finality.

Lisa stared at Kek, her blue eyes wide with astonishment.

“What’s the matter with him that he wouldn’t even stay for some breakfast?”

“He’s a hungry man, my sweet,” Kek said succinctly, and twirled the knob of the safe.