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I'll have a steward show you the way."
"You're all right, pal," Gruber said, shaking his hand.
As the steward led the Grubers to their cabin, the purser looked down at his palm. Charlie Gruber had tipped him a twenty-five cent piece.
As soon as the steward deposited their luggage and closed the door, Giordino threw off his wig and rubbed the lip gloss from his mouth. "God, Zelda Gruber! How am I ever going to live this one down?"
"I still say you should have taped a couple of grapefruit to your chest," Pitt said, laughing.
-"I prefer the flat look. That way I don't stand out."
"Probably a good thing. There's not enough room in here for the four of us."
Giordino waved his arms around the small confines of the windowless cabin. "Talk about a discount excursion. I've been in bigger phone booths. Feel the vibra
tion? We must be next to the engine."
"I requested the cheap accommodations so we could be on a lower deck," Pitt explained. "We're less visible down here, and closer to the working areas of the ship."
"You think Loren might be locked up somewhere below?"
"If she saw something or someone she wasn't supposed to, the Russians wouldn't keep her where she might contact other passengers."
"On the other hand, this could be a false alarm."
"We'll soon know," Pitt said.
"How shall we work it?" Giordino asked.
"I'll wander the crew's quarters. You check the passenger list in the purser's office for Loren's cabin. Then see if she's in it."
Giordino grinned impishly. "What shall I wear?"
"Go as yourself. Zelda we'll keep in reserve."
A minute after eight P.m. the Leonin Andreyev eased away from the dock. The engines beat softly as the bow came around. The sandy arms of San Salvador's harbor slin past as the ship entered the sea and sailed into a fiery sunset.
The lights flashed on and sparkled across the water like fireworks as the ship came alive with laughter and the music of two different orchestras. Passengers changed from shorts and slacks to suits and gowns, and lingered in the main dining room or perched in one of the several cocktail lounges.
Al Giordino, dressed in a formal tux, strutted along the corridor outside the penthouse suites as though he owned them. Stopping at a door, he looked around. A steward was approaching behind him with a tray.
Giordino stepped across to an opposite door marked MASSAGE Room and knocked.
"The masseuse goes off duty at six o'clock, sir," said the steward.
Giordino smiled. "I thought I'd make an appointment for tomorrow."
"I'll be glad to take care of that for you, sir. What time would be convenient?"
"How about noon?"
"I'll see to it," said the steward, his arm beginning to sag under the weight of the tray. "Your name and cabin?"
"O'Callao,han, cabin twenty-two, the Tolstoy deck," Giordino said.
"Thank you. I appreciate it."
Then he turned and walked back to the passenger lift. He pushed the "down" button so it would ring and then glanced along the corridor.
