Dreamboat (36 page)

When they reached the table, everyone looked at her with expressions she could only describe as awe. Rudy rose to his feet and bowed, and Dr. Von Meckling half rose and ogled her admiringly. “My God!” Mina declared. “You look ravishing! That is one of the most beautiful dresses I've ever seen.”

Monika gazed at her with a tight smile. “Lovely,” she murmured.

Jenny smiled at her. “I think you get the message,” she said. “You're a killer.”

“Well, thank you, everyone,” Crissy said, enthused by their reception, although she expected Monika to be nice—after all, Monika was worried that she would tell the others about their visit with Mikelos. “All of you look wonderful. Oh, and Rudy, I love your striped bow tie and cummerbund.”

Rudy nodded his thanks.

Crissy noticed that Jenny was in one of her less outrageous gowns with a silk throw wrapped about her shoulders. It concealed her décolletage to some extent, and Crissy wondered if she was making an effort to be more modest to suit Dr. Von Meckling.

“I got this from Anna in one of the duty-free shops,” Crissy said. “She has some really beautiful things.”

“I'll have to have a look,” Mina said. “I've passed it dozens of times, but haven't bothered to go in. It's so small, I wouldn't have thought it had such treasures. You look a dream.”

The waiter appeared with menus, and they perused them, discussing the options. It was, Crissy thought, as if there had never been any trouble among them at all. After they ordered, the conversation turned to the Amazon and Belém, the port in northern Brazil where they would be stopping early in the morning. No one aside from Monika and Dr. Von Meckling had been to Brazil before, and even they had yet to see Belém.

“Are-are you taking an excursion?” Monika asked Crissy sweetly but haltingly, as if she were treading on dangerous ground and must be careful.

“Yes,” she said. “They sounded very interesting, so I'm taking the all-day one.”

“That's wonderful,” Monika replied. “You'll learn so much. And what about you, Jenny, dear? Are you taking an excursion?”

“Ludwig and I may go ashore,” Jenny said, “but if we do, we'll just go to a restaurant close by. He doesn't want to go on any excursions. The heat and humidity are too much, he says.”

“I'm sure it will be terribly hot and humid,” Monika said.

“I hear we have to disembark on tenders,” Mina said. “That can be very tricky.”

“Yes,” Rudy remarked. “The place we're going to dock can't handle the ship, so we anchor offshore and take the tenders in. It shouldn't be difficult if the weather is nice.”

“I think it sounds very exciting,” Crissy said. “Everything from the opera house and cathedral to a zoo and a walk through the jungle.”

“It is a place to be on your guard,” Monika said.

“There are lots of places like that, aren't there?” Crissy replied, gazing at Monika.

“Well, yes,” Monika said sheepishly. She cleared her throat. “It's like many places in Brazil, unfortunately. Pickpockets, children begging, that sort of thing. And remember that the animals can have fleas when people offer to take your picture with a pet monkey or sloth.”

“Oh, that's disgusting,” Jenny said.

“It's true,” Monika replied.

“The area got rich from rubber,” Dr. Von Meckling said. “Or rather a few families did, but the wealth was spread about a bit. That's how they built the Teatro da Paz. It's a lovely rococo building. Nowadays, it's mostly timber and jute and nuts and cacao that bring in the money, but there's still dire poverty and lack of education. There are schools, but many of them don't have teachers. A sad state of affairs.”

Crissy had never heard him contribute this much to the conversation, and wondered if Jenny was having a salubrious effect on the man. Perhaps she was good for him. Her youth and vitality, let alone her attractiveness, were probably just what the doctor needed.

“We have banker friends in São Paulo,” the old doctor continued, “and they have a virtual army of bodyguards to protect them. They helicopter from their
finca
in the countryside where they live to the roof of their banking headquarters in São Paulo where they work. This is not merely a convenience, you understand. It is practically a necessity because of the danger of kidnapping or robbery. I've visited them a few times over the years, and their
finca
is somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred thousand acres. There, they have a small army to protect them. I
remember one time going with them to visit friends of theirs several miles away, and we went in armored Mercedes limousines, surrounded by jeeps with machine guns mounted on them. Back and front of us and on both sides.”

“You must have felt very safe then,” Jenny said.

Dr. Von Meckling shook his head. “On the contrary, my dear, it had the reverse effect. One felt extremely threatened. All those guns and soldiers or bodyguards were intimidating, even if they were supposed to be protecting you. One wondered why they were necessary. I knew, of course, but still it gave me an uneasy feeling. What if they turned on their employers? It happens all the time, you know.”

“Is it still like that, Dr. Von Meckling?” Crissy asked.

He nodded. “Oh, yes, my dear,” he replied. “I'm not talking about my youth, but visits made in the last few years.”

“I guess that's why our excursions will have armed guards,” Mina said.

“Really?” Crissy said.

“Yes,” Mina said. “They don't emphasize it, but the cruise director told me that armed guards will be on all the buses.”

“Well, it really does sound exciting,” Crissy said. “Even more exciting than I'd thought.”

There was laughter.

“I'm sure we'll be perfectly safe,” Monika said. “They won't take us into dangerous areas.”

“Is everyone going to the show tonight?” Rudy asked.

There were assents around the table.

“Wonderful,” he said. “Mina and I will go ahead and reserve our usual table, and I'll order champagne.”

“We'll see you there,” Crissy said.

Later, the disco was very crowded, a sea of black ties and gowns swirling about the dance floor, gathered around the tables, and standing three deep at the bar, the stools at which were all filled. Crissy had danced several times with Rudy and once with Dr. Von Meckling. One of the ship's young officers asked her to dance to a number of fast tunes, and she enjoyed it, the time passing in a blur. From time to time, she searched the back of the room for signs of Luca, but he had yet to show up. The captain and his party had arrived very late, but he hadn't been with them. She assumed
that he was taking care of a medical emergency. The heat and smoke in the crowded disco began to close in on her, and she didn't want to dance anymore, at least not for awhile. She saw the captain and his party leave.

Crissy picked up her minaudière and headed for the door, intending to cool off out on deck. She left the disco by the port exit and went to the restroom, then walked down one flight of stairs and out the nearest exit to the deck. There was no one else on this stretch of deck, but at this hour she didn't expect there would be unless strollers leaving the disco passed by.

The breezy night air, humid though it was, felt wonderful after the smoke-filled disco, and it smelled fresh and reviving, and surprisingly, a bit earthy. Brazil, she thought. It had to be. How strange it was, this aroma of land in her nostrils. It was powerful and unmistakable, and something she had never experienced before. They must be nearing the coast. She knew that the ship would enter the Amazon River around four o'clock, but they wouldn't reach the little port near Belém until about nine o'clock.

She stood at the railing, leaning against a support beam, looking up at the sky. It was another night for stargazing, with hardly a cloud visible. Looking out at the sea, she couldn't see another ship's lights in the distance or any other light; only the reflection of the
Sea Nymph
's lights on the surface of the water winked up at her. She leaned over the railing, the chiffon of her skirt blowing out behind her. The quiet was soothing after the din of the music and laughter inside, and the steady hum of the engines and the perpetual splash of hull against water were almost hypnotic.

Her peaceful silence was interrupted by a distant grunt, followed by the rustling of what seemed to be canvas and nylon. There were several dull snaps, then a thump. Crissy felt the hairs at the nape of her neck stand up, and a shiver ran down her spine. She leaned back to peer around the beam she was standing next to. In the shadows she could see movement near one of the tenders. As her eyes adjusted to dimmer light, she could clearly see that someone had removed a portion of the canvas that covered one of the small motorboats. These boats were secured directly on the deck below the much larger tenders that were suspended from davits. As she stared at the motorboat, she saw a man come into view. He was working his way around the boat, unsnapping the heavy canvas covering, then stopping to unknot and unlash rope that secured it to the deck.

A shaft of moonlight abruptly lit that area of the deck, and Crissy saw
what looked like a medium-size gym bag stowed inside the motorboat. Then she saw the face of the man when he suddenly looked up.
Oh, my God!
Her body stiffened momentarily, then she quickly jerked back in behind the protection of the steel beam.
Oh, God, I hope he didn't see me.
Her heart began to race, and a tremor of fear ran up her spine.

It was Valentin Petrov. She listened for any sound from him, but heard nothing except what she'd heard before: the unsnapping of the canvas, canvas brushing against canvas. She willed herself to disappear into the steel beam, plastering herself against it as narrowly as possible, praying that he hadn't seen her. She had no idea of exactly what he was doing, but he seemed to be preparing the motorboat for a getaway, that much was obvious. But why?

She had to check her impulse to peer around the beam again and see what he was doing. Some instinct told her to remain concealed, and she dared not risk exposing herself. Looking toward the door that led to the safety of the ship's interior, she wondered if she could make it.

There was nothing she could do here. She would rush back upstairs to the disco to safety, then alert the captain or someone in Security that Valentin Petrov was apparently about to abandon ship. She took a deep breath, her eyes trained on the door, and—

A gloved hand clamped across her mouth, and the scream that rose in her throat could not escape.

Crissy instinctively started to struggle against the powerful grip across her mouth, her hands flying up to claw it. She arched her back against the beam and placed one of her heels against it, trying to push herself away from it, but her actions were useless against his muscular grip.

Suddenly there was hot breath in her face, and Crissy's eyes widened in terror. His face was next to hers, his terrible gray eyes focusing intensely on hers. For a moment he didn't say anything, but continued to breathe, exhaling his hot breath against her flesh, staring into her eyes, a smile on his lips.

“Don't you recognize me, Crissy?” he whispered. His smile widened.

Crissy tried to kick him, but he had rammed his powerful body against hers, pinning her to the steel beam, forcing all of his considerable might on her. She tried to scream, but it was impossible. She could hardly breathe. She thought she would suffocate if he didn't remove his hand from across her mouth.

“It was your beautiful dress that gave you away, Crissy,” he
whispered. “Your beautiful dress fluttered around the beam. You should be more careful.”

His face was next to her, his nose practically touching hers, and she was sickened by the smell of his breath, by his terrifying eyes, and more than anything else, by his eerie smile.

“Now I have to take you with me, Crissy,” he whispered. “You're going on a little boat ride with me before the ship explodes.”

Ship explodes?
she thought miserably.
God help me. What am I going to do?
She tried to kick him again, but she was completely pinned against the beam and couldn't move.

Luca strode into the disco and scanned the busy room. There was always a bigger crowd on formal nights, and the guests always stayed up drinking and dancing much later than usual. Tonight was no exception. Walking toward the back of the big room, he looked from table to table, but saw no sign of Crissy. Nor did he see the captain and his party—an odd circumstance, since he or some of the officers should be at a table in this area.
The dance floor,
he thought, reassuring himself that all was well.

He walked toward the packed dance floor, scanning its perimeter, but seeing neither Crissy nor any of the ship's officers. The constantly moving lights made seeing difficult, and their constantly changing colors didn't help either. Moving closer to the dance floor, he kept searching, but to no avail. Finally, he walked onto the floor itself and began weaving his way through the throng of writhing bodies, but Crissy was nowhere in sight. He walked toward the port side of the room, his eyes constantly on the lookout, but he was rewarded with nothing.

From a table nearby, Monika Graf called to him. He focused on her.
The breather,
he thought.
The miserable bitch who harassed Crissy.
Monika was fanning herself with an old-fashioned hand fan, and a smile wreathed her heavily made-up face. “Doctor Santo,” she called, waving him toward her.

Luca went to the table at once. “Have you seen Crissy?” he asked, making an effort to be polite. He would like nothing more than to give the woman a good tongue-lashing, but restrained himself.

“I saw the darling child leave only a few moments ago,” Monika said. “She went out alone after the captain and his party left.”