excerpt
The stern cruise director imparted a thin-lipped smile but only bowed in answer. He addressed them in English. “Please, Miss Lona, Meester gentlemen, this deck fixtures will be painted today. You will please to sit on other side.” The ugly companion snorted a little and scratched his nose.
“Certainly,” Lona replied. Ivan Nikolaevich looked as if he was about to say more then turned abruptly and strode away followed by his sidekick. Lona looked up at the handsome crewman who grinned back.
“May I help you fold the chairs?” She jumped up gracefully and, without another glance at Hank or Marty, darted off after the sailor to the far end of the deck.
Marty glanced at his friend. “You poor bastard. Sweetie pie Lona doesn’t even want to look at you!”
Hank used several savage phrases until Marty slapped him jokingly on the head.
“No, really, what’s she doing on this trip anyway?” Hank asked. “She’s not a student. You know, some other good students got turned down for this trip, but she managed to get on the list at the last moment.
“Maybe she’s a spy—Canada’s Mata Hari,” Marty replied. “Trained by the RCMP.”
“To do what? Flaunt her boobs in the KGB’s face? No, I think she’s up to some shifty operation…and I want to find out.” Hank’s voice trailed off. “Look, she’s left her books. I’m going to have a look at them. Wanna come?”
Marty was about to agree until he noticed Natasha on the deck, partly obscured by a lifeboat. She appeared to be eavesdropping on their conversation. “Not me. I’ll be in the lounge with a warm beer,” he replied. “Hey, don’t wear yourself out—remember we’re meeting with some workers from a car factory later for a good chug-a-lug and dance later on.”
The books were disappointing. Just classroom notes. Hank carried them downstairs and stopped at Lona’s cabin. (He had already noted its location and how far it was from his own.) He tried the door. Locked. He continued along the passage until he came to a crew station. It was little more than a cubbyhole, but in this room the staff changed their uniforms, stored cleaning supplies, heated their own tea and guarded a pegboard of room keys. Some of the Canadian women kept their room keys in their purses, but most of the students had adopted the European habit of dropping the key off with staff on their way out.
Libros Libertad 