The tune played in his head like an earworm until Warren forced himself back to the reality he currently inhabited. Leaving too much for a tip, Warren rose, glancing at the woman at the next table. The vivid colors of green and yellow of her dress caught his eye, along with her long legs. He had a thing for long and lean. However, the woman’s horn-rimmed glasses and her sandy hair tied back in a bun set him back. Another glance made him frown with disappointment at the woman’s austere glare. She carried the cold impression of a librarian. Leaving the table, he headed to the entrance while the woman studied her menu, failing to notice her gaze following him out the door.

Exiting briskly through the wooden doors, Warren took a sharp turn, nearly running over a steward. He almost apologized, before remembering his character was a man with money. No doubt, that meant he carried an arrogant attitude. Warren scowled at the steward, demanding the crewman open his eyes next time.

“Do you have a barber?” he asked with his most intimating glare.

“Why, of course! The shop is down this passageway,” the steward stammered out in an accent that was hard to understand at first. “I’ll be happy to show you the way like I did yesterday.”

“Never mind,” Warren barked a little too loud quickly taking the path pointed out by the crewman. He cursed under his breath, realizing he should have assumed this already since he could not find a shaving kit. Such a mistake could be costly.

An hour later, Warren Baker emerged from the barbershop with a clean-shaven face and additional information. He wandered around the rest of the deck, taking in the warming sun while he reflected on his newfound knowledge about an odd lot of passengers.

“Hello, Mr. Baker,” the short man said as he tipped his bowler hat. Warren looked at him with a blank expression.

“Max Minchin,” he reminded Warren. “I’m in the cabin next to yours.”

“Of course, Mr. Minchin,” Warren Baker lied. “How are you doing?”

“It’s doctor or professor if you like,” Max reminded him politely. “I’m well, thank you. Are you enjoying your trip?”

Head still throbbing, Warren nodded slightly.

“My apologies. The morning has me out of sorts. I am enjoying the journey a little too much,” he said, lightly tapping his temple. He hated being trapped in a conversation with someone he didn’t know.

“Yes, I must say your party went well into the night,” the professor told him. “It got quite loud, of course.”

“Again, you have my apologies for my disturbing your rest,” he replied with a smile.

He observed the professor seemed unperturbed despite Warren’s nightly adventures. He also wondered if the girl got loud in the throughs of passion.

“I’ll try not to interrupt you for the rest of the trip,” he told him.

Max smiled agreeably, removing his hat. He pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket to the leather headband.

“No need to apologize, as I’m a night owl,” he said. “My studies keep me quite occupied.”

“Studies?” Warren tried to act interested.

“Yes, as we discussed the other day, my upcoming book about Spanish art requires much time and concentration,” Max told him. “Understanding the delicate nuances within the works of Velázquez and de Madrazo requires diligent study.”

“Oh, but of course.”

Warren looked around the area in vain hope that a porter might come walking by with a glass of water in hand. The idea of something stronger to drink crossed his mind. However, the deck remained empty but for him and his new friend. He hesitated when he thought he glimpsed the woman in the green and yellow dress near the passage leading to the dining lounge.

Max continued his observations concerning several Spanish painters and sculptors. As the professor continued to wax elegant concerning sculpture and jewelry, Warren feigned interest. During a lull in the conversation, Warren casually mentioned a macabre painting by Francisco Goya. It was one of the few works by any Spanish artist he could recall. However, it quickly became clear the little man did not approve of his companion’s taste in artists.

After a while, Warren seriously contemplated whether the deep ocean water below them would make better company. Max eventually brought up the name of Faberge, which was at least something Warren could recognize. The professor explained his next body of study would focus on the Jewels of the Romanovs. The small man paused, and Warren glanced over to give the dull companion his support with an appreciative nod, trying to think of an intelligent response. Instead, the man excused himself from the professor’s clutches, hastening along the deck back to his room.

Entering the cabin, the foul stench of a cheap cigar struck Warren. The smell immediately led to the sight of an incredibly large man sitting in the chair next to the secretary. It would have been a comical sight, except Warren Baker did not like the idea of someone breaking into his room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He demanded after the initial shock dispersed.

The intruder stood up; his round face obscured by the cloud of smoke.

“Calm yourself down, Baker. I don’t want you to chip a fingernail.”

The man stepped through the haze of burned tobacco, forcing Warren to look up. As he towered over him, the unwanted visitor blew smoke in Warren’s face.

Warren took a step back, barely suppressing the smoke. The intruder’s massive chest and biceps were nearly bursting out of the cheesy three-piece suit he wore.  

With a face sporting a crooked, flattened nose along with several scars near his left eye, the visitor had the cold eyes of a hunter. The face gave Warren the solid impression of a gorilla goon with a menacing attitude to match.

“Hang around my cabin without being asked, and I’ll have the captain take care of you,” he warned his visitor.

The man scowled.

“You ain’t doing nothing queeny,” he declared. “You’re in too deep to go to the captain for anything. We all know it.”

“What do you mean?” Warren asked as he felt the tension mount. He hated bullies.

“Don’t play dumb. You got only partial payment,” the intruder told him. “You need to deliver tomorrow to get the rest of your money. And we’re watching you.” The man’s expression changed.

“But I ain’t here to gab about your deal with the boss. You and me need to work out a deal. You screwed up. I recognized little Mary when she left a while ago.”

The gorilla in a suit paused, like he was showing he held the cards. Warren noticed several missing teeth with his thin smile.

“I didn’t figure a dandy like you took to women, but you never know about folks,” he observed. “Seeing how the boss’s woman is spending the night here, well, I believe you’se owe Harry some money to keep my trap closed.”

“Like hell I do! What’s this got to do with you?”

Warren’s mind frantically trying to piece together the relationship between the goon and Mary. He also felt a creeping knot developing in his stomach.

“Man, you’re dumb. The Boss won’t like you bedding his girl like a prosty. He might decide to make you swim with the fish,” Harry warned him ominously.

“Mary was really pissed, which means she might tell the boss stories about how you raped her and all. Then I’d have to dump you over the side. So you’ll pay me to keep things calmed down. Otherwise, you won’t need money when the Boss tells me to kill you.”

“And if I…”

Warren could not get the last word out because his wind was suddenly gone. He fell to the floor on his knees, nearly curled up in a fetal position, trying to breathe. The punch from the big man hit Warren quick and brutal. The thug stood over his victim. As Warren caught his breath, his true nature returned. He was beyond intimidation and getting angrier by the second.

“That is the start of what you get,” he explained. “Now, I’ll take a hundred to make sure you don’t get hit again and keep Mary from talking bad about you. I would hate to see you get croaked before we can get the merchandise. The boss can’t afford no slip-ups like we left Europe. But he’s got quite a temper. Besides, I like the little canary. She’s got the stuff.”

Harry went to one knee to get into Warren’s coat pocket. He grimly smiled to himself.

“He might have me kill you just for kicks,” he said.

Just as the goon stuffed his hand into his quarry’s jacket, Warren slammed his fist into Harry’s crotch. Before the gorilla could react, Warren was squeezing the spot as hard as he could.

A surprised growl turned into a screech from Harry. Warren felt satisfaction as he watched his enemy’s face turn pale from the pain.  Warren struggled to get off the floor with a half-roll. Then, a mighty blow landed near the back of his head. Harry’s cement-like fist struck Warren again. But he lifted himself enough to spring headlong into the thug.

Warren’s shoulder struck the intruder’s chest with enough force to send him back on his heels. As the goon fell back into the wall with a thud, Warren scrambled to his feet. He quickly grabbed the chair, holding it high above the dazed man, who was still holding his crouch.

“Never touch me again, asshole,” Warren shouted out the words, his rage at a full boil and his mind racing at full speed. 

“You want me to go through this deal of yours, and then you leave me the fuck alone,” he roared at Harry.

“Got it?”

Going silent for a moment, the goon leaned back against the wall, surprised filled his face at the change in his prey. His expression hardened, telling Warren their fight was not over. Harry held his crotch while he gingerly rose to his knees, his face filled with hate.

“Alright, you have it your way for now. I guess we need you until our stuff unloads,” he admitted. “But when the boss gets done with you, I’ll be waiting to finish this. I’m looking to mess you up bad.” He picked up his cigar that had fallen to the floor. Puffing it back to life, he stood and blew smoke at his intended victim. Clenching the stogie between his teeth, he slowly stood.

“Queenie, I’ll be killing you real slow when I get my chance,” Harry told him. Then the big man turned and left without another word, taking out his anger on the cabin door as he threw it open. The wood slammed against the steel plate of the outside bulkhead.

“Yeah, just like everyone else,” Warren told the empty room bitterly.