Dreamboat (33 page)

“You
schwein
!” she said in a low-pitched rumble. “
Schwein!”

There was a whoop of release as a young man hammered himself into Jenny. On the floor in the center of the sitting room, Jenny was on all fours, completely naked, her hair tumbling down over her face, hiding it from Monika's insults, and mounted atop her, doggy fashion, was a young man whom Monika recognized as one of the stewards, also naked. One of the Ukrainians, if she wasn't mistaken. Short flaxen hair framed his sweaty, flushed face, and his thick lips were curled in a rictus of release. His ecstacy was such that his expression resembled nothing so much as agony. After a final thrust of his hips, he turned and looked at Monika, panting. His lips spread in a wide smile when he saw her.

When Monika didn't move but continued to stare in disbelief at the scene, the young man dismounted, stood up, spread his muscular thighs wide, and held his cock in a hand, waving it at Monika.

“You?” he said in heavily accented English. “Want?” His grin exposed even white teeth.

“Get out of here!” she said in a low, rumbling voice of authority. “Get out at once.”

The young man smiled and shrugged, then gathered up his clothing from the couch. He dressed slowly, enjoying the sight of Monika watching him, but she soon shifted her gaze to Jenny, who had lifted herself up off the carpeting and now sat on the couch, making no effort to conceal her nakedness.

“We didn't mean to disturb you,” Jenny said to her in an unapologetic voice. She put her hand to her mouth, covering a yawn. “I guess we got a little carried away.”

Monika's eyes blazed with a fiery intensity, and her thin brows lifted skyward as she trained a glare of repulsion and anger at Jenny. Her fury was short-lived, however, as the young man finished dressing and went to the cabin door.

“Have a nice day,” he called to them with the same thick accent. He waved and strutted out the door, letting it slam behind him.

Jenny giggled and slapped the couch with a hand. “Is he a riot?”

Monika sat down on a chair facing her. Truth be told, she found the young man's shameless naïveté and the incident itself somewhat amusing, but she didn't like surprises. “You gave me a quite a fright,” she said calmly.

“I'm sorry, Monika,” Jenny said. “Really, I swear. I didn't mean to wake you up.” She tossed her blond tresses out of her eyes, and licked her
lips, then looked at Monika with Bambi eyes. “I-I was just so desperate,” she said in a little-girl voice. “You can imagine what it's like with Ludwig.”

“I'd rather not,” Monika responded succinctly.

Jenny laughed. “No,” she said. “You don't even want to think about it.” She retrieved a bathrobe, draped it about her naked body, and sat back down.

Monika fell into a thoughtful silence, her gaze trained on Jenny, gloved fingers silently tapping the chair arms, her mental gears turning swiftly and efficiently as she considered how best to use this incident to her advantage.

Jenny's robe fell open, exposing her body. It was beautiful, if not entirely the work of nature, and she knew it.

When Monika finally spoke, it was in an even, low voice. “You are a very reckless young woman.”

“I suppose so,” Jenny replied in a bored tone.

“And if you go through with this marriage to Ludwig,” Monika went on, “you are going to have to be very careful, especially regarding these sorts of indiscretions.”

“I know,” Jenny said, “and I can be, believe it or not.”

Monika nodded. “Oh, I have no doubts as to your abilities to deceive, Jenny. Your acting talents are exceptional, I think, but you must be very careful about who you take into your confidence.”

Jenny looked at her with curiosity. Something in the tone of Monika's voice alerted her to the importance of what was coming.

“Tonight, for example, it makes no difference that I was a witness to your little romp with the help,” Monika said, “because we are the best of friends, aren't we? And you can trust me not to tell Ludwig about this.”

Jenny nodded, but she wasn't feeling quite as confident as she had a few moments ago.

“On the other hand,” Monika continued, “were I not your dear, trusted friend and mentor, or were something to come between us, Jenny, I could destroy your chances of marriage to Ludwig like that.” Her eyes brightened, and she made the motion of snapping her fingers together, but there was no sound because of the gloves.

Jenny nodded again. “I know,” she said, “but I know you wouldn't do that, Monika.”

“We both know that Ludwig trusts me implicitly, as he would a sister. We have a history together, Ludwig and I. We are both from old European
families, mine not as rich as his, but my accomplishments and fame have secured our mutual respect and devotion. So, believe me when I say that no matter what solace you might bring to him in his old age, if I should betray our trust—yours and mine, Jenny—Ludwig will see you chased out of Europe.” She sat back, her eyes glittering with intensity.

“I understand perfectly,” Jenny responded, and she did, too. She realized that Monika was throwing down her gauntlet, and she'd better be on her guard.

“I'm glad you do,” Monika said with a smile. “I think we will get along magnificently, you and I. You're going to need a guiding hand—someone who knows the ins and outs—dealing with his estates, all the relatives, the many burdensome social occasions. They can be a bit daunting for one as young and inexperienced as yourself, and believe me, Jenny, they are very important to Ludwig.”

“I know that,” Jenny replied. “He's made it very clear that I'll have a lot of duties.”

Monika nodded. “And I'll be there for you, helping you every step of the way. I wouldn't want to interfere, of course, but I think you'll discover that I make a great ally.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I can even be helpful when you feel the need to . . . express yourself in ways that Ludwig would not approve of. Tonight, for example.”

“I understand, Monika,” she said, “and I appreciate it.”

“
Wunderbar
,” Monika said. “In the meantime, our lips are sealed, and Ludwig will know nothing of little escapades like tonight.”

No,
Jenny thought.
Not as long as I do whatever you want me to do.
She had known that her campaign to win Ludwig Von Meckling was going to be challenging, but she'd had no idea that she was going to have to please not only him but this monster sitting across from her. She told herself that it was worth it, that his hundreds of millions were worth it, that she wouldn't have to sacrifice her own, real desires for too long a time. In the meantime, she would have to make certain that Monika was always on her side.

Georgios Vilos picked up his cell phone again and pressed in the number for Captain Papadapolis, who picked up almost immediately.

“Demetrios,” Georgios Vilos said. “I need a favor from you right away.”

“Of course, Mr. Vilos,” the captain replied. “What can I do for you?”

“I want you to put Mark ashore in São Vicente.”

“You what?” Captain Papadapolis exclaimed. “But—”

“But nothing,” Georgios Vilos replied. “I'm ordering you to put him ashore the moment you dock in São Vicente, Captain.”

“Mark has committed a crime, Mr. Vilos,” Captain Papadapolis replied. “A very serious crime.”

Georgios Vilos restrained himself from shouting. “I don't give a goddamn what he's done, Captain Papadapolis,” he said between clenched teeth. “I order you to put him ashore in São Vicente. I will fire you otherwise and see to it that you never get another job in shipping anywhere in the world.”

“There could be a lawsuit, Mr. Vilos,” the captain pointed out. “Against the shipping line, Mark, you, and myself personally. This could get very nasty.”

“I'm aware of that,” Georgios Vilos said, “but I want my son out of lockup. Do you understand?”

Captain Papadapolis' mind raced. He was in a quandary: There was no justification for letting Mark Vilos go free, but he didn't want to lose his job, either. He knew Vilos well enough to know that he was as good as his word.
I'll never be able to get another job in the shipping industry,
he thought.
Never
.

“Mr. Vilos,” he said, “what if I put Mark under house arrest? That way, he could return to his stateroom. He would be confined there with a security detail posted at the door 24/7.”

“An excellent suggestion, Captain,” Georgios Vilos replied.
And it would make getting Mark off the ship very easy,
he thought.

“I'll go talk to him right away,” Captain Papadapolis said. “I think this would work out for all parties concerned.”

“Yes,” Vilos agreed. “Very good, Captain. Get back to me later.”

“I will, Mr. Vilos. Good-bye,” Captain Papadapolis said. He flipped his cell phone closed and sighed. He didn't like this, but it was the only way he could see to save his job and do the right thing. As long as Mark Vilos was under house arrest, he told himself, the plan would work. He decided to go down to the brig and speak to him immediately.

The guard opened the door to Mark's cell, and the captain stepped inside. “I want to talk to you,” he said as the guard closed the door behind him.

Mark was propped against a pillow and spread out lengthwise on the cell's built-in metal bed. He stared up at the captain with a smug smile. “I guess I don't have any choice but to listen, do I, Captain?”

“I've spoken to your father,” the captain said.

“And?”

“We've decided that you can be put under house arrest, Mark. That way, you can return to your stateroom.” The captain cleared his throat. “I'll have to put guards from Security at your door, of course,” he added.

Mark sat straight up in bed, glaring at the captain. “I've been arrested, Captain Papadapolis,” he snarled. “You yourself had me put in the brig. So I'll stay in jail, thank you.”

Demetrios Papadapolis sighed.
The smug son of a bitch,
he thought.
His sense of dignity has been wounded, so he's going to be pigheaded about this.
“I think this would be an excellent compromise, Mark,” he went on. “It would satisfy your father and wouldn't upset Ms. Fitzgerald, since you'd be under guard. I think it's a fair solution for everyone, myself included.”

“I don't give a damn about satisfying you, that slut, Crissy Fitzgerald, or my father,” Mark spat back. “You put me here, and I'm staying here. I refuse to leave. Now get out of my cell, Captain.”

Captain Papadapolis realized that nothing he could do or say would change the arrogant, recalcitrant young man's mind. “Have it your way,” he said at last.

“I will.” Mark laid back against the pillow, his smug smile in place again.

The captain tapped on the cell door, and the guard opened it immediately. “Think about what I've said, Mark.”

“Get out.”

Chapter Seventeen

T
he ship approached São Vicente, in the Cape Verde Islands, about eight o'clock in the morning. The weather had cleared, and the skies were sunny. The sea was once again calm, without a whitecap in sight. Crissy had just finished breakfast and found a place at the railing to watch their arrival. The name for the islands, she thought, was a misnomer. There was hardly any green in sight. The island appeared to have been stripped of every tree, bush, and blade of grass that had ever been there. Other than a few weathered tankers and fishing boats, the docks were empty. It looked as if the
Sea Nymph
would be the only cruise ship in port. As they neared the dock, she rushed down to the debarkation deck, where she was supposed to meet Luca.

He spied her first and led her to the exit, where they were hurried through before anyone else. On the dock, they watched as men in small fishing boats approached the aft deck of the ship, calling up to crew who were gathered there as if waiting for them.

“What's going on?” Crissy asked.

“They're selling fish,” Luca explained. “The kitchen staff will buy some to cook for the passengers in first-class cabins, and they'll buy some for themselves and other crew, too.”

As they walked along the pier toward the shore, young men hawked jewelry that they either carried or had spread out on blankets. They were primarily very simple necklaces and bracelets carved of wood, some with wooden beads, others on cords or leather thongs.

“You need my good-luck necklace,” one of the men told Crissy.

The young man looked so poor and ill-fed that she had to stop. “How
much is that one?” she asked, pointing to a necklace of wooden beads with a small wooden disc hanging from it.

“One dollar,” the young man replied.

“Let me get it for you,” Luca said.

“But I've got a dollar bill,” Crissy said, taking it out of her wallet. “I bet you don't have anything but euros.” She paid the young man, and he thanked her profusely.

They went on their way down the pier. “I'm not so sure that's going to bring you good luck,” Luca said, watching her put the necklace in her shoulder bag.

“I'm not, either,” she replied. “It doesn't seem to have done much for him.”

Luca led her through the down-at-the-heels town. Every building seemed to be on the verge of collapse, but they were very colorfully painted. The streets were filled with litter, and graffiti was on walls everywhere. Broken glass was embedded into the tops of walls, and windows were covered with iron bars. They walked up and down the blighted streets. Some of the buildings had once been beautiful, their architecture imposing. Peeking into a pharmacy, Crissy saw that it had once been magnificent, with heavily carved paneling and mosaic tile work.

“It's a pity to see all of this crumbling to pieces,” Crissy said, “and there seems to be a problem with crime.”

Luca nodded. “It's a very poor place. It used to be a Portuguese possession, and it was pretty much stripped bare of everything of value a long time ago. It was also used as a slave-trading center. That's why nearly everyone is African. A handful of Portuguese own virtually everything.”

“It's so sad,” Crissy said, “because the island looks like it could be really beautiful.”

“There are some nice beaches,” Luca said, “but it's a pretty desolate place otherwise.”

They reached a small, run-down town square. In the center was a concrete kiosk, outside which were two or three plastic tables with umbrellas. A sign advertised Coca-Cola. “Want a Coke before we go on?” Luca said. “We can have a seat and people-watch for a bit.”

“Yes,” Crissy said, fascinated by the poor but colorful spectacle around her.

Their Cokes were served in old-fashioned glass bottles, which she hadn't seen in years, and they cost a nickel each. “I think I'll move here,”
she joked. As they drank their soda, they watched tall black women, carrying heavy baskets on their heads, walk in and around the square. Many of the baskets held vegetables and fruit.

“They're going to the market,” Luca said, “to sell what they can.”

They finished their sodas and walked around the small square, looking into the shop windows. Almost without exception, they were owned and tended by Chinese immigrants who sold merchandise from China. Clothing, housewares, sports goods, toys—almost anything one could ask for was available, nearly all of it shoddy in quality.

“This is amazing,” Crissy said. “Here on the other side of the world the Chinese own nearly all the stores and sell Chinese merchandise.”

“It is amazing,” Luca agreed, “especially when you think that the Portuguese owned the place and its closest neighbor is Senegal.”

They walked on for a long time, passing a church, where beggars sat on the steps, then on past a derelict-looking school. Eventually, they strolled into an entirely different neighborhood that was mere yards away but light-years in appearance. There was a large square filled with trees and flowers. Benches were arrayed around a fountain that was empty of water, and an ornate but empty kiosk sat at one end. The square was surrounded by beautifully maintained homes, apartment buildings, and a few office buildings with shops on the ground floor. There were a couple of art galleries and craft shops that sold goods made by islanders and small clothing and sporting goods stores.

The day was heating up, and the humidity was stifling. “You want to stop for a glass of wine?” Luca asked. “Maybe something to eat?”

“Yes,” Crissy replied. She hadn't realized how far they'd walked, so interested had she been in the sights, depressing though many of them were.

They went into a café along the square. It was very modern, thankfully air-conditioned, and paintings by local artists were hung on the walls. The owners were a very friendly Portuguese couple, who served wine that was made on their estate and simple chicken sandwiches on delicious homemade bread.

Crissy broached the subject first. “What do you think will happen to Mark?” she asked Luca.

Luca shook his head. “It's hard to say. He's committed a crime, of that there's no doubt. But he's also the son of a rich and powerful shipping line owner. I'm a little surprised that the captain is even keeping him in the brig.”

“No!” Crissy exclaimed. “But . . . but—”

“Crissy,” Luca said, “you shouldn't be surprised. You know how most of the world works. If Mark was impoverished and couldn't afford good lawyers, it might be easy to throw him behind bars for a long time. But Mark is filthy rich, his father has legions of lawyers working for him, and the captain's livelihood depends on Georgios Vilos.”

“I understand,” she replied. “It's going to be very difficult to beat Mark in court.”

“You bet it is,” Luca said. “They'll try to crucify you. Knowing the way they work, they'd dig up ‘witnesses' who are willing to testify that you will have sex with anybody. That sort of thing.”

Crissy saw the truth in what he said. “But the captain? Do you really think he would side with the Viloses in a matter like this?”

“I don't know,” Luca replied. “But I do know that he loves his job, and that he would think long and hard before he put himself in a position to be fired from it. No only that, but he would be persona non gratia in the entire shipping industry. The Vilos family would see to that. He wouldn't be able to get a job anywhere.”

“I hadn't thought about that,” Crissy said. “We'll have to wait and see how it plays out.”

When they had finished eating, they left the café. Hand in hand, the lovers walked back toward the dock. It was soon time to board the ship, so they went on ahead in order to beat the crowds who would be coming back from the excursion buses. Luca looked at his watch. “We depart in about thirty minutes,” he said. “Let me check with Voula and see what's going on. If she's not swamped, what about a quick . . . drink or something in my cabin?”

Crissy saw the mischief in his eyes. “I'd love a drink . . . or something.”

Luca called Voula, who told him that everything in the hospital was under control, so he and Crissy went directly to his cabin.

“Welcome to my humble home,” he said, swinging the door wide.

Crissy stepped in to see a cabin much like her own, except that on the desk there were framed photographs. She stepped over to look at them, and Luca joined her. “They're on double-sided tape,” he said, “so they won't get thrown off.”

“That's clever,” Crissy said.

“It's necessary,” he replied, “unless you want to have broken glass all
over the place. That's my parents,” he said, pointing to an elegant couple who appeared to be in their sixties. They were both tall and well-dressed, his mother fair and blond, his father a shade darker, with black hair. “And that's me with Bocco, my old golden retriever. He died while I was in college. Isn't he beautiful?”

“You look so happy,” Crissy said. “And he looks like he's smiling.”

“He always smiled,” Luca said.

“What does his name mean?”

“Good for nothing,” Luca said with a laugh. “I called him that because when he was a puppy he was always jumping in the shower with me. Or the bathtub. He loved water.”

“And those are my aunt and uncle and cousins at a wedding. She's my father's sister. Me, when I got my medical degree.”

“I think you're even better looking now,” Crissy said, turning to him.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately. “Love does that,” he said.

He quickly stripped off his uniform, then helped Crissy undress.

“It's the heat,” he said. “I think it makes me horny.”

“Then maybe we should live in the tropics,” Crissy said.

“I think so,” he said, taking her into his arms and kissing her deeply.

They made love, quickly but passionately, their desire fed by their close proximity for the last few hours. When it was over, they were both covered with the sheen of sweat. “I would like to lick you clean,” Luca said.

Crissy laughed. “I don't think you have time.”

“Maybe we should take time,” he replied.

He was still inside her, and Crissy felt him becoming engorged again. She gasped and clung to him as he began slowly moving in and out of her, kissing her tenderly and gently stroking her. When they came, it was sudden and powerful and as one. She didn't think she'd ever known such ecstacy before. Luca moaned as he flooded her with his seed, then held onto her tightly, as if he would never let her go.

They heard the ship's deep horn announcing its departure, and that was the signal that Luca needed to get back to the hospital. Although they couldn't enjoy the afterglow of the lovemaking for long, they made plans to meet at the disco later.

As Crissy walked back to her cabin to change clothes, she looked up at the funnel, discharging its dark smoke, which the wind immediately picked up and carried in an almost horizontal line behind them.
She remembered that Luca had told her the trip from the Cape Verde Islands to Brazil would only take two days aboard the
Sea Nymph,
whereas it was often up to five days on most ships. She could hardly believe that she was on her way across the Atlantic to South America and the Amazon River. Glad she'd already eaten something, she decided to bypass lunch and go up to the pool deck and enjoy the sunshine. After two days of gray skies and rain, it would be a welcome change.

In her cabin, she quickly showered and changed into a bathing suit, over which she wrapped and tied a long, colorful sarong. She was reaching for her handbag when she remembered the envelopes she'd taken from Mark's cabin.

Oh, my God!
she thought.
I can't believe I forgot all about them.
The near rape experience had been so frightening, the envelopes had been wiped from her thought. She dug deeper then, making certain that she retrieved all of them from the bottom of the bag where she had put them. They were most likely of no consequence now, she reasoned, but she decided to have a look. She looked at the plain white envelopes with Mark's name in black ink on the front of each one, along with a date in the upper right-hand corner. His name and the date were written in block letters that looked almost childish.

She opened the envelope with the earliest date and unfolded the note that it held. Suddenly she felt as if she were invading someone's privacy.
That's exactly what I'm doing,
she told herself.
These notes are addressed to Mark.
Yet there might be information that would be useful to the authorities.

She opened the first one and began to read, noting that the notes were written in the same childish block letters that was used on the envelopes.

Makelos,

You must get off the ship at the next port of call. Don't ask any questions, just do as I say. It is imperative that you get off as soon as possible. This is a situation beyond my control.

Your Father