The Golden Rendezvous (5 page)

Antoine was on duty in the kitchen that night, and you could almost reach out and feel the blissful hush that descended on the company.

Velvet footed goanese waiters moved soundlessly on the dark grey pile of the persian carpet; food appeared and vanished as if in a dream; an arm always appeared at the precisely correct moment with the precisely correct wine. But never for me. I drank soda water. It was in my contract. The coffee appeared. This was the moment when I had to earn

my money. When antoine was on duty and on top of his form, conversation

was a desecration and a hallowed hush of appreciation, an almost cathedral ecstasy, was the correct form. But about forty minutes of this rapturous silence was about par for the course. It couldn't and never did go on. I never yet met a rich manor woman, for that matter of it who didn't list talking, chiefly and preferably about themselves, as among their favourite occupations. And the prime target for their observations was invariably the officer who sat at the head of the table. I looked round ours and wondered who would set the ball rolling.

Miss harrbrideher original central-european name was unpronounceable-thin, scrawny, sixtyish, and tough as whalebone, who had

made a fortune out of highly expensive and utterly worthless cosmetic preparations which she wisely refrained from using on herself? mr.

greenstreet, her husband, a grey anonymity of a man with a grey sunken face, who had married her for heaven only knew what reason, for he was a

very wealthy man in his own right? tony carreras? his father, miguel carreras? there should have been a sixth at my table, to replace the curtis family of three who, along with the harrisons, had been so hurriedly called home from kingston, but the old man who had come aboard

in his wheel chair was apparently to have his meals served in his cabin during the voyage, with his nurses in attendance. Four men and one woman; it made an ill-balanced table. Senor miguel carreras spoke first. "The campari's prices, mr. carter, are quite atrocious," he said calmly. He puffed appreciatively at his cigar. "Robbery on the high seas would be a very fitting description. On the other hand, the cuisine is as claimed. You have a chef of divine gifts. It is perhaps not too much to pay for a foretaste of a better world." this made senor carreras very wealthy indeed and was old hat to me. Wealthy men never mentioned money, lest they be thought not to have enough of it. Very wealthy men, on the other hand, to whom money as such no longer mattered, had no such inhibitions. The passengers on the campari complained all the time about the prices. And they kept coming back.

"From all accounts, sir, 'divine' is just about right. Experienced travellers who have stayed in the best hotels on both sides of the atlantic maintain that antoine has no equal in either europe or america.

Except, perhaps, henriques."

"Henriques?"

"Our alternate chef. He's on to-morrow."

"Do I detect a certain immodesty, mr. carter, in advancing the claims of the campari?" there was no offence meant, not with that smile. "I don't think so, sir. But the next twenty-four hours will speak for themselves-and henriques-better than I can."

"Touche!" he smiled again and reached for the bottle of remy martin-the waiters vanished at coffee time. "And the prices?"

"They're terrible," I agreed. I told that to all the passengers and it seemed to please them. "We offer what no other ship in the world offers, but the prices are still scandalous. At least a dozen people in this room at this very moment have told me that-and most of them are here for at least their third trip."

"You make your point, mr. carter." it was tony carreras speaking and his voice was as one might have expected slow, controlled, with a deep resonant timbre. He looked at his father. "Remember the waiting list at the blue mail's offices?"

"Indeed. We were pretty far down the list and what a list. Half the millionaires in central and south america. I suppose we may consider ourselves fortunate, mr. carter, in that we were the only ones able to accept at such short notice after the sudden departure of our predecessors in jamaica. But don't forget that to catch the boat we had to make a hurried four-hundred-mile dash from the capital to carracio by

air and road. And what roads!" sefior carreras obviously didn't share the carracio agent's respectful terror of the revolutionary government.

I wondered how a man of carreras' obviously aristocratic background had

been able to retain his obvious wealth in the face of the forces of change that had overcome and completely wiped out the old order-and why,

if money was so desperately short on the island, he was allowed to convert very large sums of it into dollars to pay for this cruise, or how and why he had been able to leave the island at all. But I kept my wonderings to myself. Instead I said, "you're still a long way off the record, sefior carreras. Last trip we had a family from santiago and two men from beirut, both of whom had flown to new york specially for the round voyage."

"And they can't all be wrong, eh? don't worry, mr. carter, I intend to enjoy myself. Can you give us any idea of our itinerary?"

"That's supposed to be one of the attractions, sir. No set itinerary. Our schedule largely depends on the availability and destination of cargoes. One thing certain, we're going to new york.

Most of our passengers boarded there and passengers like to be returned

to where they came from." he knew this anyway, knew that we had coffins

consigned to new york. "We may stop off at nassau. Depends how the captain feels-the company gives him a lot of leeway in adjusting local schedules to suit the best needs of the passengers -and the weather reports. This is the hurricane season, mr. carreras, or pretty close to it. If the reports are bad captain Bullen will want all the sea room he can get and give nassau a byez." I smiled. "Among the other attractions of the s.s. campari is that we do not make our passengers seasick unless it is absolutely essential."

"Considerate, very considerate," carreras murmured. He looked at me speculatively. "But we'll be making one or two calls on the east coast, I take it?"

"No idea, sir. Normally, yes. Again it's up to the captain, and how the captain behaves depends on a certain dr. Slingsby caroline."

"They haven't caught him yet," miss harrbride declared in her rough gravelly voice. She scowled with all the fierce patriotism of a first-generation american, looked round the table, and gave us all the impartial benefit of her scowl. "It's incredible, frankly incredible.

I still don't believe it. A thirteenth-generation american!" I could imagine how unthinkably remote thirteen generations of american ancestors must be to miss hatrbride; she'd have traded her million-dollar cosmetic empire for even a couple of them. "I was reading all about him in the tribune two days ago. Did you know that the 5lingsbys came to the potomac in 1662, just five years after the washingtons. Three hundred years! imagine, american for three hundred years, and now a renegade! a traitor! thirteen generations!"

"Don't take it too hard, miss harrbride," I said encouragingly.

"When it comes to skipping with the family silver, dr. caroline just doesn't begin to be in the same class as my countrymen. The last englishman who deflected to the communist world had an ancestor in the doomsday book. Thirty solid generations. Yet he took off and lit out at the drop of a hat."

"Faugh!" said miss harrbride. "We heard about this character."

tony carreras, like his father, had had his education in some ivy league college; he was rather less formal in his attitude towards the english language. "Slingsby caroline, I mean. Makes very little sense to me.

What's he going to do with this weapon-the twister, they call it, isn't it? Even if he does get it out of the country? who's going to buy it?

I mean, as nuclear devices go it could be ranked almost as a toy: it certainly isn't going to change the balance of world power, no matter who gets his hands on it."

"Tony's right," miguel carreras agreed. "Who is going to buy it?

besides, there's nothing secret any more about the making of nuclear weapons. If a country has enough wealth and technical resources-so far there are only four in the world-it can build a nuclear weapon any time.

If it hasn't, all the plans or working models in the world are useless to them."

"He's going to have an interesting time in hawking the twister around," tony carreras finished. "Especially since from all descriptions you can't get the twister into a suitcase. But what's this guy got to do with us, mr. carter?"

"As long as he is at large every cargo vessel leaving the eastern seaboard gets a pretty thorough going over to make sure that neither he nor the twister is aboard. lows up the turn-round of cargo and passenger ships by 100 per cent, which means that the longshoremen are losing stevedoring money pretty fast. They've gone on strike-and the chances are, so many words have been said on both sides, that they'll stay on strike when they do nab dr. caroline. If."

"Traitor," said miss harrbride. "Thirteen generations!"

"So we stay away from the east coast, eh?" carreras senior asked.

"Meantime, anyway?"

"As long as possible, sir. But new york is a must. When, I don't know. But if it's still strike-bound, we might go up the st. Lawrence first. Depends."

"Romance, mystery, and adventure." carreras smiled. "Just like your brochure said." he glanced over my shoulder. "Looks like a visitor for you, mr. carter." I twisted in my seat. It was a visitor for me. Rusty williams-rusty, from his shock of flaming hair-was advancing towards me, whites immaculately pressed, uniform cap clasped stiffly under his left arm. Rusty was sixteen, our youngest cadet, desperately shy and very impressionable. Cadets were not normally allowed in the dining room and rusty's eyes were goggling as they took in the young ladies at the captain's table, but he managed to haul them back to me as he halted by my side with a perceptible click of his heels. "What is it, rusty?" age-old convention said that cadets should always be addressed by their surnames, but everyone called rusty just that. It seemed impossible not to. "The captain's compliments, sir.

Could he see you on the bridge, please, mr. carter?"

"I'll be right up." rusty turned to leave and I caught the gleam in susan beresford's eye, a gleam that generally heralded some crack at my expense. This one predictably would be about my indispensability, about the distraught captain sending for his trusty servant when all was lost, and although I didn't think she was the sort of girl to say it in front of a cadet, 1 wouldn't have wagered pennies on it, so I rose hastily to my feet, said, "excuse me, miss harrbride, excuse me, gentlemen," and followed rusty quickly out of the door into the starboard alleyway. He was waiting for me. "The captain is in his cabin, sir. He'd like to see you there."

"What? you told me-"

"I know, sir. He told me to say that. Mr. jamieson is on the bridge"-george jamieson was our third officer-"and captain Bullen is in his cabin. With mr. cummings." I nodded and left. I remembered now that cummings hadn't been at his accustomed table as i'd come out, although he'd certainly been there at the beginning of dinner. The captain's quarters were immediately below the bridge and I was there in ten seconds. I knocked on the polished teak door, heard a gruff voice, and went in. The blue mail certainly did its commodore well. Even captain Bullen, no admirer of the sybaritic life, had never been heard to complain of being pampered. He had a three room-and-bathroom suite,

done in the best millionaire's taste, and his day cabin, in which I now was, was a pretty fair guide to the rest-wine-red carpet that sunk beneath your feet, darkly crimson drapes, gleaming sycamore panelling, narrow oak beams overhead, oak and green leather for the chairs and settee. Captain Bullen looked up at me when I came in. He didn't have any of the signs of a man enjoying the comforts of home. "Something wrong, sir?" I asked. "Sit down." he waved to a chair and sighed.

"There's something wrong all right. Banana-legs benson is missing.

White reported it ten minutes ago." banana-legs benson sounded like the name of a domesticated anthropoid or, at best, like a professional wrestler on the small-town circuits, but, in fact, it belonged to our very suave, polished, and highly accomplished head steward, frederick benson: benson had the well-deserved reputation of being a very firm disciplinarian, and it was one of his disgruntled subordinates who, in the process of receiving a severe and merited dressing-down, had noticed

the negligible clearance between benson's knees and rechristened him as soon as his back was turned. The name had stuck, chiefly because of its incongrmity and utter unsuitability. White was the assistant chief steward. I said nothing. Bullen didn't appreciate anyone, especially his officers, indulging in double-takes, exclamations, or fatuous repetition. Instead I looked at the man seated across the table from the captain: howard cummings. Cummings, the purser, a small, plump, amiable, and infinitely shrewd irishman was, next to Bullen, the most important man on the ship. No one questioned that, though cummings himself gave no sign that this was so. On a passenger ship a good purser is worth his weight in gold and cummings was a pearl beyond any price. In his three years on the campari friction and trouble among-and complaints from-the passengers had been almost completely unknown.

Howard cummings was a genius in mediation, compromise, the soothing of ruffled feelings, and the handling of people in general. Captain Bullen would as soon have thought of cutting off his right hand as of trying to send cummings off the ship. I looked at cummings for three reasons. He knew everything that went on on the campari, from the secret takeover bids being planned in the telegraph lounge to the heart troubles of the youngest stoker in the boiler room. He was the man ultimately responsible for all the stewards aboard the ship. And, finally, he was a close personal friend of banana-legs: they had sailed together for ten years, as chief purser and chief steward, on one of the great transatlantic liners, and it had been one of the master strokes in the career of that arch-lurer, lord dexter, when he had lured both those men