Naxos deemed it a necessary exercise in public relations, and nothing Craig could say would shift him. It was too late to cancel, and Trottia had organized it anyway. 'AH right,' Craig said at last. 'But you both get there and stay there—in a crowd. I want everybody to See you—and recognize you.'
'Of course,' said Naxos. 'There's just one more thing. This is a costume ball, John—I have a costume for you—and everyone will go masked.'
'That's all I needed,' said Craig.
'We begin at midnight and unmask at dawn. Trottia says it's the way the Venetians lived in the old days. The great ones, I mean. The merchant princes.'
And he's conned you into being the last of them, Craig thought.
He said at last: 'You won't leave the ship until midnight. Promise?'
'Sure,' said Naxos.
'Who will?'
'The stewards will leave in an hour. They have to set the house in order. The crew—the ones who will be policing the place—they'll go over at eleven.'
'Your guests?'
'They'll stay here if I ask them. We're eating at ten.' 'Ask them,' said Craig. 'I will.'
'I'd like to go ashore now. Can I take the bosun with
me?'
'Take what you like,' said Naxos.
'Just the bosun. Have you said anything about me?'
Naxos shook his head.
'Tell him I'm your new security chief. Tell him he's to do as I say. And, Harry—' Naxos turned to him. 'You know what you're doing, don't you?'
'Only what I have to,' said Naxos.
5'Chapter 11 *
The small launch roared across to Lido and put Craig ashore. Craig told the Hydriote to wait and hurried to a cafe in the piazza, and a telephone. No time to go to the Danieli, near as it was. He phoned Grierson and told his friend to meet him and to bring an extra gun. He then raced for the maze of shops near the Largo San Marco, found a chemist's, and walked inside. Afterwards he returned to the Hy-driote.
'I've tried to telephone the palazzo,' he said. 'There's no answer. Go and see what's wrong. Ill wait here.'
The Greek nodded and set off in the motorboat. Craig looked out from the piazzetta. In the middle of the crowd an Englishman walked, tall, dapper, aloof. Dark slacks, dark-blue sport shirt, handmade Florentine shoes, a hat of coffee-colored straw. He carried a map, and looked puzzled. Craig stood up and sauntered easily into the most earnest crowd in the world, as it gaped at one of its finest views. The tall Englishman bumped into him, then looked up, apologetic.
'I'm awfully sorry,' he said.
'That's all right.'
'Oh, you're English? Jolly good,' said the tall one, then added: 'I say. You don't happen to know a place where they sell a decent beer, do you?'
'There's a cafe round the corner,' said Craig. 'Come and 111 show you.'
They turned down to the piazzetta, sheltered from the crowd in a doorway. Craig made explanatory gestures and said: 'Nice to see you. Did you bring a gun?'
'Just let me show you the map,' said Grierson.
He opened it wide, and Craig, holding one side, felt a weight in the pocket of his jacket.
'Thanks,' he said. 'You're going to a masked ball tonight.'
'Oh, goody,' said Grierson.
'Get yourself a costume and meet me here at eleven o'clock.'
'Will do. Anything else?'
Maize pellets rattled on the stone in front of them, a flock of overfed pigeons swooped, and a flurry of German tourists aimed Leicas. Grierson lifted the map again.
'Go and get your beer,' said Craig. 'Have one for
me.
Grierson left him, and Craig waited for the Hydriote to return. He admired the skill with which the bosun ran the boat alongside the molo, then tied up and left it, going at once to Craig. Greeks never expected to be robbed, Craig thought, but maybe Theseus was right anyway. Who would dare rob Naxos?
'Phone's okay,' he said.
'I must have got the number wrong,' Craig said. Theseus said nothing.
'We've got time for a drink,' said Craig.
The idea pleased the Hydriote so much he was moved to speech.
'Good,' he said.
Craig led the way to the maze of alleys by St. Mark's and found the Cafe he was looking for. It was ten years since he had been there, but everything was just as it had always been. Even the cats looked the same. Everything in Venice is there for ever.
They sat outside together, their backs against a wall two feet thick, their nearest neighbors a group of market-men sitting over coffee and talking endlessly, effortlessly, about the price of tomatoes. Theseus asked for wine, and Craig ordered Orvieto, then looked at the Hydriote's enormous body.
'Bring the bottle,' he said, and when it came, watched Theseus drink and ordered another.
'Busy night,' said Theseus. Craig nodded. 'Money. Too much money. There'll be thieves.' He drank again.
'They won't have invitation cards,' said Craig.
'They'll make their own,' said Theseus. 'They've done it before.'
He drank gloomily.
'We'll have men watching,' said Craig. 'Sneak thieves I don't mind, but I want you to watch out for the hard boys. Have some of your sailors handy. If you see me signal, come running.'
'You think there may be a fight?'
'It's possible.'
'I'd like that,' said the Hydriote. He poured more wine, and the empty bottle swung in his hand like a belaying pin. Suddenly his fingers clamped round the bottleneck, and he began to squeeze hard, harder, until the sweat rolled down his face, and his arms were wet with it. At last the bottle neck cracked, and opened, and he turned to the waiter who had brought the second bottle.
'Could you do that?' he asked.
'All right,' said Craig. 'You're strong. Just be there when I want you.'
Theseus drank, poured another glass, then looked into Craig's mquiring eyes.
'No more till after the party,' he said.
Craig nodded. 'Me too.'
'There'll be trouble tonight,' said Theseus.
'What kind of trouble?'
'The women. Clothes trouble.'
'Try speaking in sentences,' Craig said.
'Mrs. Naxos has a costume, and Pia Busoni has the same costume.'
'You're sure?'
Theseus's massive head, the head of a Hercules sunk in gloom, nodded once.
'Certain.' He sighed. 'Trouble,' he said. 'For you. Pity. I like you.'
He finished the bottle and took Craig back to the yacht. The guests were already dressed for the party, and Craig fought his way through a mob of harlequins, columbines, abbots, Napoleons, painters, poets, pirates, peasants, doges, courtesans, Othellos, Desdemonas, Crusaders, Byzantines, queens of Cyprus, and emperors of the Holy Roman Empire, who were milling around the buffet, drinking Scotch and smoking king-sized tipped cigarettes. In the big hotels on Lido, in rented palazzos, in Venice itself, several hundred more would be changing too: all in costumes that had a link with Venice as she once had been. The Serenissima, queen of the sea, the one point in the
