The Silver Bears

by Paul E. Erdman

  “John,” he yelled. “Quick!”

  John was there, quick. He caught the first suitcase which Doc thrust down to him. Almost between waves he managed to scamper back to the bow of the boat, stow it, and return for the second. He tugged at Doc’s trouser leg, indicating his readiness. Carefully twisting his body, Doc swung the second load of rials, worth two and a half million dollars, into the outstretched arms of his partner.

  Almost. But not quite.

  At first, the suitcase seemed destined for the bottom of the Aegean Sea. But at the very last moment, with a frantic movement of hands and arms, Gianfranco managed to tip it the other way—right down into the hold of the boat.

  “Jesuz,” exclaimed Doc, who had witnessed this traumatic operation from his perch above.

  “God we were lucky,” he said, after both men had safely returned to their little piece of deck at the front of the boat. “That money was within one inch of being lost and gone forever.”

  The prince just smiled weakly. He was not sure whether it had been his fault or not.

  “Don’t worry,” consoled the American, “the money’s safe, and it looks like the storm’s almost over.” Indeed it was. The sea was calming almost as abruptly as it had erupted less than a half hour earlier. The sun was already starting to break through the clouds.

  “John, you just stay here. I’ll go down there and retrieve the other half of your cousin’s life savings.”

  But when Doc peered into the bowels of this peculiar vessel, he discovered that his idea was not entirely original. The captain’s mate was already busy, gathering in the sheaves which had fallen, if not from heaven, at least from the chariot of some visiting foreign gods. The locks of the suitcase had obviously been sprung as a result of the fall. Two hundred million rials lay scattered across the entire bottom of the boat. They represented a lot of paper. Slowly the Turk appeared to reach the same conclusion. This was beyond the capacity of pockets. He scampered up the ladder, and disappeared behind the wheelhouse. Seconds later the captain himself appeared, carrying a short length of rope. And a long thick steel rod, probably a castoff from some engine room. After just a fleeting glance at Doc who was watching every move from the other end of the boat, he descended below, and deliberately gathered together pile after pile of bills, stuffing them back into the suitcase. It was not the neatest of packing jobs; but he got them all back in. The rope, which he then looped around the suitcase, made sure they stayed in. With not even a further glance at Doc, he moved back up the ladder with the case, and once again disappeared behind the tiny cabin at the rear. Promptly the boat changed direction. Its bow swung into the wind, hesitated, and then swung again.

  “He’s turned back!”

  “John,” replied Doc, tersely, “you stay put. I’m going to have a little talk with our friends.”

  With that he dropped into the hold, crossed it in just a few strides, and raced up the ladder. As he started to rise to his feet on the other side, just to the front and left of the wheelhouse, a strong hand grabbed him and held him in his kneeling position.

  It was the chief himself. Doc pushed. The man faltered. Now firmly on his feet, Doc went after him. The Turk lashed out with his steel rod. He missed Doc’s forehead by millimeters.

  Then Doc did a strange thing. He ran! And disappeared behind the other side of the wheelhouse. The captain was obviously not in a mood for hide and go seek. He charged after Doc. The. American just stood there waiting, his back resting against the far rail of the boat—with a .32 Beretta in his right hand. With no apparent sense of urgency he shot the Turk in the right shoulder. The stunning effect of the bullet, and the lurching of the boat, sent him crashing to the deck, right at Doc’s feet. One vicious kick to the head rendered him unconscious. A second made sure he remained that way for a while. The steel rod rolled out of his grasp. Doc picked it up and flung it overboard.

  The second Turk now emerged from the cabin. He also had taken precautions, this time in the form of a rusty iron pipe. But the sight of his boss lying on the deck, and a motion from the Beretta in Doc’s hand, changed any thoughts he might have had of heroism. His first reaction sent him in the direction of the sea. But probably he remembered just in time that, in the good tradition of Turkish sailors, he could not swim. So he just stopped, sat down on the deck, and for some reason covered his head with his arms.

  Then Gianfranco appeared. He looked scared.

  “John,” said Doc, in a perfectly steady voice, “do you know anything about boats?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then turn the son-of-a-bitch around.”

  John did so with remarkable ease. Doc just stood beside him, watching in admiration, his gun hand loosely at his side.

  “Any idea where Rhodes is?”

  “It must be due west. Into the sun.”

  “Think you’ll find it?”

  “It’s a big island, and we must be close. We’ll make it.”

  “How come you know how to steer this thing?”

  “I do a lot of sailing off Sicily. Don’t worry about me. Worry about the two men out there.”

  “That’s no problem. I can take care of those monkeys.”

  “I didn’t mean that. It’s what happens when we get to Rhodes.”

  “I’ll also take care of that.”

  The prince fell silent, and his face remained expressionless, even when he spotted the rough outline of the mountains of Rhodes on the horizon, and then the contours of the huge breakwaters outside its main port. By the time they entered the harbor area, a large semicircular body of protected water, it was 6 P.M.The prince pointed the boat at the docks which lay to their left, opposite the walled city. In fact, he headed straight between two ships which lay anchored there, both streamlined and gleaming white. Cruise ships. The docking itself was perfect. Doc managed the ropes, securing the boat to the pier both fore and aft with near professionalism. The Turks? The captain, now fully conscious, just sat on the deck, glumly holding his wounded shoulder. His mate huddled in his original catatonic position.

  The dock area was deserted. Nobody!

  “Strange,” commented the prince, after he had shut off the engine.

  “Probably the dockers here are like those everywhere else in the world. When the six o’clock whistle blows, they all go home.”

  “But what about the customs people?”

  “Who knows. Maybe they sit in comfort at the gates, waiting for somebody to show up. Just as long as they stay there a little while longer.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  “Transfer.”

  “To where?”

  “There.”

  There, as the huge letters indicated, was the San Christofer. Not fifty meters away.

  “But . . .”

  “But nothing. We just get our stuff and transfer. We’re not going into Rhodes. That way we don’t have to bother anybody in Rhodes. Right?”

  “And the car?”

  “Why ask for trouble? We’d need a crane to get it off. And that would mean a crane driver. And crane drivers can talk. So we leave it. Right where it is. And we tell those Turks to get their garbage scow out of here. Pronto. They’ll cooperate. After all, they get one free Chevrolet.”

  “That’s crazy. We might just as well have left the car in Turkey in the first place.”

  “You’re right. But at the time you didn’t think of it, did you? Neither did I. Because I thought we’d need the car to get those damn suitcases past customs. But now there’s not going to be any customs. So we get rid of the car.”

  “I don’t know Doc, if . . .”

  “No ifs. Just get moving. Over to the San Christofer. Find the purser, or whatever he’s called. Give him a hundred dollars and tell him to send some of his boys over to pick up our luggage. Then give him another hundred and tell him we want no complications about the check-in formalities.”

  It worked. The Italians came. The Turks went. And nobody in Rhodes could have cared less. It was after s
ix o’clock. Following a shower, a shave, and a much-needed change of dress, the prince made his presence known on board. That evening they dined at the captain’s table. He insisted that the after-dinner drinks be compliments of Italian Lines. So they all stayed up until 3 A.M.before staggering off to bed. As a drunken afterthought, Doc left something he’d found on the floor after repacking the suitcases in his cabin earlier that evening. A tip. A wet 10,000 rial bill.

  5

  IN Campione, across the lake from Lugano, it was just one in the morning, since Italy lies two time zones to the west of Asia Minor. They were lire, not rials, that the man in evening dress was recounting before passing them through the opening under the inch-thick glass to the two young men opposite him.

  “How much did we make, Albert?”

  “About twenty-four million.”

  “How much is that in dollars?”

  “Around forty thousand.”

  “Jeez. That’s more than last night.”

  “Yes, Marvin. It’s working very nicely. But I think it is now time we went home.”

  So Albert and Marvin left the casino, walked across the boulevard through the gates where a tired-looking official just waved his hand. The waiting motor launch whisked them across the lake in fifteen minutes. By 2 A.M.both were sound asleep in Switzerland.

  The next day, in fact the remainder of that week, Albert and Marvin were extremely busy: phone calls, meetings, negotiations during the daylight hours: then Campione by night. Until Saturday night, when they were politely, but firmly, refused further admission to the casino. As they again crossed the lake, for the fourteenth time in seven days, Albert told Marvin that it was just as well.

  Five days later, two sun-tanned men strode into the Majestic Hotel in Lugano. The taller of them asked the clerk to connect him with Albert Fiore’s room.

  Mr. Fiore? He had checked out. When? Yesterday, together with the other American. Where had they gone to? No idea, signor. The bar? Yes it was open. Could he arrange that the doorman keep an eye on their car? But of course, and your generosity is appreciated, signor.

  The bar was indeed open, but not busy. Drinking at noon is frowned on in Switzerland.

  “Two Bloody Marys, please. And bring them over to the table.”

  The bartender seemed to approve.

  “Now why in the world would those two guys check out?” was Doc’s puzzled question.

  “Maybe we should have called them from the ship.”

  “It’s not like Albert to do this,” continued Doc. “Marvin, yes. But not Albert.”

  Somebody tapped him on the shoulder. Doc disliked any laying on of hands, and reacted angrily. Until he saw the huge grin on Marvin’s face.

  “Hi, Doc.”

  “Marvin, my boy. I thought we’d lost you. Where’s Albert?”

  “Busy.”

  “Where busy?”

  “I promised not to tell you. It’s a surprise.”

  “So it’s time for games, is it. Not with me, Marvin. Now cut the crap. Where’s Albert?”

  Marvin just grinned.

  “O.K., have your little fun. Sit down, Marvin, and tell us what you’ve been doing lately.”

  “Oh, we’ve been busy. And look, I don’t think I should sit down. I promised Albert that if I found you, I’d bring you right up. So maybe we’d better go.”

  Doc looked like he was really going to blow his top, but then changed his mind.

  “Come on, John. Let’s humor Marvin.”

  So they left, with Marvin leading the way. Outside he climbed into a spanking new MG convertible.

  “You guys got wheels?” he asked.

  “Yes,” was Doc’s only reply, as his eyes shifted from the red MG to Marvin, and then back to the MG. He decided not to get drawn into another pointless debate with Marvin.

  “Fine,” continued Marvin, “just follow me.” He started, and then gunned the engine a few times, testing Doc’s nerves.

  At the first interesection Marvin took a left. Almost immediately the road started to rise steeply. After ten minutes, they were well out of town, and negotiating one switchback after the other. After another ten minutes they passed through a medieval tower, and entered an ancient mountain village. The road sign outside read: Garona—936 meters above sea level. Or so the prince said, since everything was in Italian. On the other side of the town, the MG suddenly swung off the road, and rocketed past a set of open gates, leading through the high stone wall on the left. Doc was caught unaware and overshot. Slowly he backed up, changed gears again, and inched his way through the gates. There, at a distance, stood Albert. Beside the swimming pool. Doc pulled up behind the MG, and both he and the prince got out.

  A girl in a black dress and white apron emerged from the villa and curtsied. Marvin made the introductions.

  “Doc, this is Maria. Our maid. She’ll take care of the baggage. She’s a strong girl.”

  “Of course, Marvin,” said Doc. “Now let’s walk over to our swimming pool, past our house, and have a little talk with our Albert.”

  “Hi, Doc,” were Albert’s first words. “Hungry? We’re planning on having lunch soon.”

  “Yes, Albert. That would be nice. Do you mind if I join you here for a couple of minutes first?”

  “No. Pull up a chair. You too, John. Nice to see you again. Have a good trip?”

  “Yes, thank you. It lasted a bit longer than we anticipated. But everything worked out.”

  Then Doc again. “Albert, I’d like to ask you a few simple questions.”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, for openers, what’s with this place here?”

  “We bought it.”

  “I see. And the MG?”

  “We bought that too.”

  “Right. And of course the maid came with the house.”

  “How did you know, Doc?”

  “Well, it’s logical, isn’t it. But let’s push on to something else that’s puzzling me.”

  “Sure, Doc. What is it?”

  “Where did you get the money?” This time Doc yelled.

  “Gee, Doc, don’t get upset. We won it.”

  “Won it?”

  “Yes. Marvin and I found out about this casino. It’s in Italy, right across the lake from Lugano. You see, in Switzerland they have laws against gambling. But not in Italy. So everybody goes to the other side of the border. It’s just like home, really. They have essentially no limits, because in some way—I’m not sure of the details—the Italian government is involved. So I tried out something that I was working on, really just on an experimental basis. It seemed to work all right, so we decided to go all the way. As it turned out, the time was much too short for me to determine whether it really worked, or whether we just had a run of luck. Even at the University of Chicago, when we had access to an IBM 360, we determined that . . .”

  “Albert, please excuse me for interrupting. Maybe we could come back to the University of Chicago later. But I feel there is another matter which I would like cleared up first.”

  “Of course, Doc.”

  “Good. Now my next question is: what did you use for money when you started?”

  “Dollars. I got them from Marvin. Actually the whole thing was his idea in the first place.”

  “From Marvin. How much?”

  “Fifty thousand dollars.”

  “From Marvin,” Doc repeated.

  “Excuse me,” this from Marvin, who started to move toward the house.

  “Oh no you don’t, Marvin. You stay right here. Now Albert, in what form was this fifty thousand dollars?”

  “Hundreds. Marvin gave me five hundred hundreds.”

  “New bills?”

  “In fact they were. How did you guess, Doc?”

  “Because I know our Marvin.” Then Doc grabbed Marvin by the front of his shirt.

  “O.K. Where did you get them, Marvin?”

  “I brought them with me. Don’t worry, Doc. They were of extremely good quality. Hell, even in the State
s nobody would have spotted them. Those bills were the best I’ve ever done.”

  “You mean . . .?” asked Albert, now frowning behind his glasses.

  “Yes, Albert,” replied Doc, “I mean.”

  “But Marvin,” said Albert, “You should have told me!”

  “Ah, come on you guys. It’s over and done with. Let’s forget about it.”

  “And if they find out? Did you have to identify yourself at that casino?”

  “Sure,” replied Marvin, “but only me. I did the playing and Albert just stood behind me and told me what to do. But don’t worry.”

  “Why?”

  “The passport I showed them was counterfeit too.”

  “Oh my God,” whispered Doc. “All right. How much did you win?”

  “We ended up with about four-hundred thousand dollars. But of course that includes our original fifty thousand.”

  The prince damn near fell off his chair. Doc merely shook his head—back and forth, for a full minute. Then he spoke again.

  “So then you bought this house, and the car. Anything else?”

  “Actually, yes. We took a lease on new banking premises. And we’ve arranged for the whole place to be done over. We’ve got the plans inside. You’ll like it Doc. It’s a great location. The office of American Express. They’re moving into a new building, you see. By chance we met the local manager at the bar of the hotel, and we got talking, and one thing led to the other.”

  “So how much have you already spent, or committed?”

  “A quarter million. So we still have quite a bit left over, Doc.”

  Doc rose from his chair.

  “I’m hungry. Let’s have that lunch you were talking about.”

  Maria was waiting for them. The four men were no sooner seated in the elegant dining room than she appeared with a huge steaming platter of spaghetti. It soon disappeared, and a second followed. Maria turned a dark red when the Principe personally extended his congratulations on the excellence of her cuisine. It was, of course, him that she served first with coffee, and later with a yellowish liqueur.