Authors: Robbins Harold
"It won't hurt Dax. He has too much sense for that."
"I hope so." The consul changed the subject. "Have we any reply from Macao about the ships?" "Not yet."
"I don't like it. I had heard the British were anxious to release them. They were lying idle in the harbor. And yet, silence."
"These things take time."
"How much time? A month has passed already since Sir Robert promised to expedite things in London. The British may have all the time in the world. We do not."
"The last letter we had from Sir Robert said that he was doing his utmost."
"But is he?" The consul's voice was quizzical.
"It was half his money that the baron put up for the shipping contract."
"And he is also a director of the British lines."
"Two and a half million dollars is a lot of money to lose."
"He could lose much more if the British lost their power to embargo our shipments."
The secretary did not answer.
Dax's father leaned back wearily in his chair. "Sometimes I think I am not the man for this job. It's too much for me. Too devious. There is no one who says what he really means."
"There is no one who could do it better, excellency. It just takes time, that's all."
A wry smile crossed the consul's lips. 'True, but I may not have that time."
Marcel knew what he meant. The consul had steadily grown more frail and delicate. The once giant frame of the man had given way to a thin delicacy. Now the cane. And it wasn't all a diplomat's posture, as the consul had so jokingly remarked. Besides, he had contracted another bad cold and actually he ought to be in bed.
"We'd better get another letter off to el Presidente," the consul added. "I'll bring him up to date. Perhaps he will have changed his mind about the advisability of allowing Dax to attend the British school."
It was with mixed feelings that Dax rode onto the English playing field. This would be the last time he would be wearing the colors of France. Next year he would be playing for the British and Sandhurst. He glanced down the field toward the stands. Sir Robert and his two daughters were there. The girls saw him and waved. He waved back.
Sergei grinned. "You got it made. Which one are you going to fuck first?"
Dax laughed. "Are you out of your mind? I almost got into enough trouble over Caroline. My father would kill me."
"The blond one looks like she might be worth dying for. I can see her creaming just looking at you."
The sound of the whistle floated across the field. The British team had already come out. "Come on," Sergei said. "Let's go meet your future playmates. And teach them how this game is really played."
The party that night was at Sir Robert's London town house. The British had played well but unimaginatively, and they had lost. But even Dax had to admit they were good sportsmen. Their captain seemed to mean it when he had come over to congratulate them.
Now Dax was standing alone near the huge French doors leading to the garden, watching the dancers. Sergei gave him a knowing wink as he danced by with a tall blond girl. Dax could not help grinning. He knew what that meant. Sergei had already selected his pigeon for the night.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Dax looked around and saw Sir Robert standing next to him. "Very much. Thank you, sir."
Sir Robert smiled. "I think you will like it here. We may not have the style of the French but we try to make it comfortable."
Dax was beginning to appreciate English understatement. Involuntarily he glanced around. He had never seen a more luxurious home. Even the baron's Paris town house could not compare with this. "No one could ask for more, sir. You have thought of everything."
"You must consider this your home while you're at Sandhurst. I have already instructed the servants to set aside a suite for you and we're expecting you for the weekend in the country."
"Thank you, sir. I don't know what to say."
"Then say nothing. Just be at home." He glanced at Dax. "I had a letter from your father this morning."
"You did? Did he say how he was?"
Sir Robert shook his head. "Your father never talks about himself, only about his work." His eyes turned shrewd. "How is his health?"
"Not good." Dax's voice turned somber. "I really don't know whether I should leave him at this time. Perhaps I could somehow ease his burden if I stayed at home rather than coming to Sandhurst this year."
Sir Robert looked at him hesitantly. "If I may speak as your senior?"
"Please do. I would appreciate your thoughts."
"If I were your father you would please me most by going to Sandhurst. The impression you will make here will be far more useful to him and your country than if you had stayed by his side."
Dax was silent. It was exactly what his father would have said. Yet that made neither of them right. There was still the question of his father's health. If only he did not catch another cold. If the damn ships were only freed, then the strain on his father might be lessened. That would make him feel better about leaving. "Thank you, sir," he said aloud. "I suppose that is exactly what I shall do."
Later, after the party, he rolled over and switched on the bed lamp. He glanced at his watch. It was three o'clock and yet he could not sleep. He got out of bed and went to the open window. The traffic had quieted, and he stood there looking out. Idly he wondered when Sergei would come in.
Sergei had borrowed a car to take his pigeon home, so probably he would not return until daylight, if at all. But as he was watching, the headlights of a car spilled into the courtyard. Sergei got out and a moment later was in the room. "What are you doing still up?" His eyes swept the room suspiciously. "You had one of them in here?"
Dax laughed. "Is that all you can think of?"
"Is there anything else?" Sergei took his jacket off angrily. "That one I took home was sure a waste of time!"
Dax laughed again. "You can't win them all."
Sergei flung his jacket onto a chair. "Pretty soft," he said. "She told me that Sir Robert is giving you this suite while you're at Sandhurst."
Dax nodded.
"Did you know the girls' rooms are right across the hall?"
"So what?" Dax knew because both of them had taken special care to tell him.
"You're not going to be able to ignore them," Sergei said, unbuttoning his shirt. "They're both ripe and ready." He slipped out of his trousers. "They're still up, you know. I saw the light under their door."
"Do you have a cigarette?"
Sergei tossed him a pack. "They're probably waiting for you."
"I hope they don't wait too long."
Sergei shook his head in mock sadness. "You're making a big mistake. Somebody else will come along and grab off all that prime pussy." He looked at his friend. "What are you worried about? Their father is over in the other wing. He can't hear you. It must be at least half a mile away."
Dax laughed. "Shut up and go to bed, you horny bastard. It's not my fault you didn't get laid tonight."
But actually Sir Robert was sitting in his study studying the latest report on the Corteguayan situation. Tomorrow he would take it to the country to put with the others. It was safer there where even if the servants should pry it would have little meaning for them. His lips tightened grimly. The pressure was on him now. There were times when he felt an annoyance with his cousin. The baron was too French, too sentimental. What difference did it make that the Corteguayan consul was a man of honor? Besides, he was a sick man. Couldn't his cousin see that if they kept the ships away only a little while longer the government would be bound to fall? He was a fool if he couldn't.
It had to. Already the bandoleros were active in the hills. This time with English money and English arms. The peasants were hungry. How long would they continue to starve for el Presidente, who was nothing but a bandolero himself?
The ships had to be kept away. The loss of the two and a half million dollars was little enough to keep the present government from making an agreement with the Greeks. And when the government did finally fall, he would more than make up that loss once his own ships returned to Corteguay.
CHAPTER 11
It was a few minutes past seven the next evening when the station taxi dropped off Dax in the driveway of Sir Robert's country estate. The butler answered the door.
"Welcome, sir," he said, taking Dax's valise. Dax followed him into the house, which seemed strangely quiet, considering the turnout he had been led to expect.
"Where is everyone?"
"You're the first, sir. The young ladies will be coming on the ten o'clock. Sir Robert will be down tomorrow with the other guests."
He opened the door to Dax's room and put down the bag. "Do you wish me to unpack you, sir?"
"No, thanks, I'll manage. There isn't much."
"At what time would you like dinner, sir?"
Suddenly Dax was hungry. He glanced at his watch. "Just give me time to bathe. Eight o'clock will be fine."
Dinner did not take long. He ate quickly and voraciously and by a quarter to nine he had finished. "The wireless is in the master's study," the butler suggested. "And also the newspapers."
Dax nodded. He turned on the radio and sank into a soft leather-covered chair. After a few minutes he was bored, and went over to the desk for the paper. As he picked it up the letter upon which it had rested fell to the floor. Idly he picked it up and was about to replace it when he noticed it was in Spanish. Since it was already open and out of its envelope he casually glanced at it, then the signature caught his eye. Ramirez.
That alone was enough to make him read the first paragraph.
"I would like again to congratulate you on your foresight in the acquisition of the four Japanese merchant ships, thus preventing them from falling into the hands of our enemies. Information I have received from my compatriots at home indicates that the government is under extreme pressure to secure immediate relief."
Dax felt a cold chill inside him despite the roaring fire in the grate. What kind of man was this who with one hand offered you comfort and friendship and welcomed you into his home, while with the other he was helping your enemies to destroy you? He read on.
"The uprising is slowly gaining momentum. But, as you know, we suffer seriously from a lack of arms and munitions, and since the cost of obtaining these is prohibitive because they must be smuggled across the Andes from neighboring countries, I am reluctantly forced again to request additional funds. I hesitate to place again a burden on your ever so willing generosity but ten thousand pounds is an immediate necessity if our plans are to meet with the success we all hope for. If you cannot spare this, even five thousand would be of great help."
Dax's mouth twisted grimly. He wondered how much of the money Ramirez siphoned off before any of it reached his so-called compatriots.
"I will appreciate hearing from you at your earliest convenience and until then please accept the gratitude of myself and my compatriots for your aid in our mutual struggle to overthrow the despotic bandit who unlawfully seized control of our poor country."
Ramirez. If he weren't so angry he might have laughed. Ramirez the thief, the coward. Ramirez the betrayer. Ramirez was not one to bandy about names. Dax stared down at the letter. His father would have to be made aware of it. And the baron.
Suddenly the thought crossed his mind; could the baron already know? Could he, too, be a part of the scheme? He did not know whom he could trust. He folded the letter and thrust it into his pocket. He would have to caution his father.
He started from the room angrily. He would leave for
Paris tonight. Then he stopped. That would be exactly the wrong thing to do. Sir Robert would wonder about his abrupt departure; it might only serve to call attention to the missing letter. He would have to stay for the weekend, perhaps even longer. He forced himself to go back to his chair. When the butler came in to announce the arrival of the young ladies he was quietly reading the newspaper.
They looked enough alike to be twins, though they weren't. Enid, the oldest, was eighteen, her sister, Mavis, a year younger. "See, I told you he'd be down tonight," one of them said to the other.
Dax took her hand. "Hello, Enid."
She laughed. "I'm Mavis."
He smiled. "I'll never be able to tell you apart."
"Did mother and father come down?"
He shook his head. "No. The butler told me they aren't expected until tomorrow."
"Good," Enid said, "then we'll have the house to ourselves tonight."
"We'll have our own private little party," Mavis added. She looked at her sister. "Who might be around that we could ask over?"
"Why bother?" Enid looked at Dax. "I'm sure the three of us can have a perfectly marvie time."
"Parties?" Dax laughed. "Is that all you can think of? I'm so tired the only thing I can think of is another hot bath and a good night's sleep."
"Must you always be so serious? Don't you ever think of having fun?"
"Tomorrow I'll think about having fun."
He leaned back in the big marble tub and closed his eyes. The steam came up to his face and he relaxed, then he heard a faint sound and his eyes opened. He looked back toward the door to his room. There was no one there. The sound came again. A puzzled expression came over his face.
Then abruptly the door opened and the two sisters stood there, along with a cold blast of air from the empty corridor behind them.
"For Christ's sake close the damn door!" he yelled, grabbing for a towel. "You want me to freeze to death?"
But Mavis was quicker. She pulled the towel just out of his reach, laughing, while Enid closed the door. He stared at them, trying to cover himself with his hands. After a moment he gave it up as a bad job. They were still laughing. "What's so funny? Your bathtub out of order?"
Enid sat down on the stool next to the tub. "We thought since you were so tired the least we could do was give you one of our medicinal baths."