Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 38, No. 13, Mid-December 1993

Maxim allowed his eyebrows to rise slightly. This was duly noted by Fernet. “Come, come, Monsieur Nevsky. Neither you nor Madame Shannon is a teenager. It is important that you be together for your mutual protection. Besides that, you must be able to exchange information freely. On a small ship like the Athenia, any artificial meetings or secretive discussions would be too easily detected.”

Lila Shannon turned to Maxim. For the first time he noticed the beginnings of a smile on her face. “You don’t have to concern yourself, Monsieur Nevsky. We won’t have separate cabins, but we will have separate beds, and I promise not to bother you.”

Maxim returned her smile. “I’m sure a comfortable arrangement can be made, but if we are to be husband and wife, I think you could start calling me Maxim.”

Her smile broadened slightly. “How do you do, Maxim. I am Lila.”

“How do you do, Lila.”

Fernet’s gravel voice broke in. “Before you forget your purpose here, I will remind you that besides being friendly you must be especially cautious. If Alex’s death was not an accident, the murderer has been forewarned that an investigation is taking place, and he will not hesitate to repeat his actions. You must take care of each other.”

You must take care of each other, thought Maxim. It sounded almost like a benediction. For a fleeting moment a picture of his long dead wife Anna flashed before him. Still young. Still beautiful. It was almost eighteen years since she died. It had been a long time since he had thought about her. Fernet’s voice broke into Maxim’s thoughts. “You will make the seven-day round trip and observe the loading and unloading operations at each port. If you discover any information, you will contact me immediately; otherwise, you will complete the trip, then fly back to Paris from Istanbul, and report to me here. Whatever you find out, you are to take no independent action. I’m sure you understand that.” The last remark was said pointedly to Lila Shannon. “Interpol’s first priority is to find out about the narcotics smuggling. Any action relative to the possible murder of Alex Shannon must be taken through the homicide department.”

During their flight from Paris to Istanbul, they decided they would be widow and widower who had met and married while working in Paris. This Black Sea voyage was their honeymoon. Other than that, their ostensible backgrounds would be the same as their actual ones. To get ready for their shipboard experience, they decided to converse in English rather than French, since English was the working language used on the ship. From the Istanbul airport they went directly to the ship’s embarkation port where, after running the usual gauntlet of officials and officious civilians, they were allowed to board the ship.

The Athenia was two thousand nine hundred tons of well-used steel built as a combination bulk cargo and passenger ship in 1955. Although it was freshly painted, its age clearly showed. Maxim and Lila were escorted to their cabin by a young man in a rumpled white uniform who introduced himself in Liverpool-accented English as Nigel Turner, their purser. Their two pieces of heavy luggage were carried for them by an unusually large Chinese lad who handled them like two small briefcases. It appeared that most of the officers were English, but the crew was a worldwide collection of colors, sizes, and languages.

Since Maxim and Lila had boarded early, they could lean against the railing on the main deck and watch the loading operation taking place on the dock. A thin, redheaded young man introduced himself as Mark Greeley, the ship’s radioman, and offered to explain the activity going on on the pier below.

“All cargo is secured to pallets — those flat wooden platforms — so the forklifts can get under them to carry them to the side of the ship. It’s not a job for raw muscle. Those pallet loads can weigh over a ton. The dock workers secure the bridles from our cranes to a pallet, lift them over the side of the ship, and lower them into the hold.”

“How do you know where all this material is supposed to go?” inquired Lila.

“All the pallet loads are coded,” Mark told her. “Do you see that pallet being swung over the hatchway now? That bundle is going to a certain factory in Odessa. I can tell by the red squares painted on the tarp covering the cargo. The next pallet is going to a warehouse in Constanza. That pallet has a blue-square label. The load with a red triangle is also going to Constanza, but to a different consignee. Each consignee has his own code design.”

“How clever,” Lila said.

“It’s simple, but it works.”

Maxim was watching the red-square coded pallet being slowly lowered into the forward hold. Fernet had told them that the cargo code for Para Clothing was a red square. It was those pallets that had to be particularly watched.