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guests. At other times during the cruise, there will be very little occasion for our paths to cross. When they do, it will usually be at cocktail parties or at the farewell dinner. If, for any reason, it becomes necessary for you to see me, try to cash a check for $100 with the purser. He has orders to refuse to cash anything higher than a $50 check for you and to refer you to me if you become insistent.”
    Liddell grinned. “You think of everything, Captain.” “In my position, I have to.” He stuck his hand out at Liddell. “Remembering what happened to Landers, you’d better do the same. Anything else I can do for you?”
    “Yes. How about the boys in the radio shack? Can they be trusted?”
    The captain considered. “What are you planning to do?”
    “I want to have the people on Landers’s list checked out by an agency I use in New York.”
    The captain nodded. “I’ll handle it. Give me the message, the names of the people you want checked out. I’ll send it to my home office in code. They can forward it to your agency.” He wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. “You want the answer sent here?”
    Liddell shook his head. “I’ll pick it up at the American consulate in Curaçao.”
    “That gives them only about seventy-two hours. Think they can do much in that length of time?”
    “Acme has a full staff that works twenty-six hours a day. If there’s anything to find out about any of them, they’ll find it out. And fast.”

CHAPTER 5
    Johnny Liddell sat at the bar in the French Quarter Salon aft on the promenade deck, stared out through the glassed-in enclosure toward the shore. The last tender had already left the dock, was swinging in a wide arc to pour the last load of tourists up the gangway onto B deck. Half a dozen of the tables in the bar were occupied by early returnees, bedraggled looking and sweat stained.
    Liddell swung back to face the bar, signaled the bartender for a refill. At the far end of the bar, the bartender was polishing his glasses, getting set for the onslaught that invariably followed a shore trip. His cigarette was expertly balanced on the bottom of an upturned glass, a shot glass full of scotch was hidden from sight by the stack of freshly polished glasses. By the time the cocktail hour was over, he knew from experience that he’d need it.
    The bartender caught Liddell’s signal, nodded, made a production of setting down the cloth and glass. In the split second his back was turned, the shot glass reached his mouth, was returned to its position empty. He shuffled down to where Liddell sat examining the table sitters in the backbar mirror.
    “Again?” he asked.
    Liddell nodded. While the bartender was pouring some scotch over the ice in a fresh glass, Liddell laid a five-dollar bill alongside his empty glass. “We’ll be spending a lot of time together. Might as well get acquainted.”
    The bartender grinned broadly. His hand snaked out with the ease of long experience, the bill disappeared from the bar. He slid the refill in front of Liddell. “Name’s Cyril, sir. Anything you want, you just yell.”
    “I’ll remember that, Cyril. My name’s Liddell.”
    The bartender nodded. “I know, sir. Came aboard this morning. Cabin 321 on B deck, isn’t it?”
    Liddell grinned. “Word sure does get around.”
    The bartender shrugged. “You know how it is aboard ship, sir. Hardly anything happens that isn’t all over the ship in an hour. Like a small town, you might say.”
    “Hmm. And here I was figuring I could get a little time off for good behavior without anybody paying too much attention—”
    The bartender grinned knowingly. “Don’t give that a second thought, sir. They talk and talk, but all of them are measuring each other for a little fling.” He dropped his voice, leaned across the bar. “On a cruise like this with the warm nights and stuff, everybody expects it.”
    Liddell seemed to brighten. “I haven’t had much of a chance to look around. Got any