Chapter 4
The main room of Rick's Café Americain was a large room furnished opulently, no expense had been spared to turn it into a nightclub that was chic and sophisticated. Tonight like every night the who's who of Casablanca were to be found sitting at the tables to see and be seen, enjoying a night out having a meal or a drink or both. Apart from Casablanca's high society there was also a good sprinkling of the usual collection of rogues, spies and members of the underworld. Everybody came to Rick's.
There were Europeans dressed in white or black dinner jackets their female companions beautifully begowned in fashions that the well to do in Paris would have killed for. Jewellery sparkled from around their necks and on their fingers. There were Moroccans dressed in robes made of the finest silk, Turks were noticeable with the red fezzes they wore, recent arrivals from war torn Europe dressed in their drab colourless suits and dresses, Arabs, Levantines. Naval officers in dark blue uniforms with medals gleaming from their jackets, members of the Foreign Legion in their distinctive kepis. Everyone came to Rick's.
Nearly everyone's attention was drawn the stage where a ten piece band was playing on a small raised stage. In front of the stage was a woman playing on a white stand up piano that if you looked carefully enough you would have seen that the piano had wheels. The woman was bathed in a spotlight. At the moment she held the crowd's attention as she sang 'It Had To Be You'.
Lanie Parish smiled as she looked over the gathered crowd tonight as her fingers danced across the piano keys playing out a melody. It was a good crowd tonight she thought to herself, an appreciative audience. She could tell the mood of an audience just by looking at it and tonight she had no doubt that it was good.
She had arrived in Casablanca with Castle having escaped from France before it fell eighteen months ago. It had not surprised her when she learned he had won the Café in a poker game, that man had the luck of the Devil sometimes. And it did not surprise her in the slightest when he had asked her to play at the Café. They both knew he would have suffered some serious damage if he had gotten anybody else. She and Castle went back aways.
Lanie liked playing at the Café Americain the hours weren't all that long compared to some clubs she used to play in Paris or New York. There were some nights she did not come home until the early hours of the morning just as the sun as he sun was peaking over the horizon but that had nothing to do with her piano playing. She was paid well here at the Cafe Americain and the tipping was generous. Some nights she earned more in tips than a week's pay.
Lanie finished the song with a final twinkling of the keys and beamed at her audience. A loud round of applause erupted from all quarters that made the black woman bow and smile in appreciation. She waited a few moments for the applause to die down before she started to play a low, slow melody a composition of her own. There were only a couple more songs to go before the set ended and allowed the members of her backing band a few minutes to rest and recovery. They had been playing without much of a break since the Café had opened that afternoon. Lanie too needed a break as well.
As Lanie continued play the melody her eyes fell upon a table near by. A well dressed woman was seated opposite to a Moor in a purple red silk robe. The woman had her hand on the table on her wrist was a gold and diamond bracelet. There was a look of desperation on the woman's face as she leaned closer to the man.
"But can't you make it just a little more, please?" The woman said.
The man frowned as he shook his head. His eyes dropped the woman's bracelet.
"I am sorry Madame," The man said, "but diamonds are a drug on the market. Everybody sells diamonds. There are diamonds everywhere." The man straightened up and folded his arms across his chest in a display of finality. "Two thousand four hundred francs." he added.
The woman leaned back in her chair disappointment clouding her pretty face. She stared at the man on the other side of the table.
"All right." The woman huffed.
The man smiled and nodded his head.
Lanie almost shook her head at what she had witnessed. Little did the woman know that because of her desperation for money she had been conned out of another thousand more francs for her jewellery. There was a lot of desperation in Casablanca these days. Lanie glanced over in the direction of the band and gave them a small nod and launched in another song. The band was right with her.
Standing at the bar next a row of drinkers was a young man dressed in a black waiter's uniform. He was of average height with brown hair and had the physique of a middle weight boxer. He certainly looked like someone who could handle himself in a scrape. He was leaning against the bar watching Lanie as she sang. His name was Brian Elliot. He had been working at the Café for the past nine months ever since he had jumped ship when it had pulled into Casablanca. At the age of fifteen he had runaway to the sea and for ten years he had been a merchant seaman. He had seen a lot of the world in that time but one of his favourites was here in Casablanca.
Brian was drawn away from gazing at Lanie by the barman placing a bottle of whisky and tumbler glass on his tray. The barman motioned with his head in the direction of a door that led off from the main room of the night club. Brian straightened up and gathered up the tray with its contents. He nodded to the barman and then set off.
Standing in front of the door was a tall dark skinned man dressed in a black dinner jacket with a red fez adorning his head. His dark impassive face regarded Brian as he approached.
"Open up Abdul." Brian said when he reached the guard.
Abdul's face broke into a small smile, nodded his head then pulled on the door handle pushing the door open to allow Brian entry.
Brian entered the fabled gaming room of Rick's Café Americain. This room too was opulently furnished though the colours were a little darker. Somewhat more intimate than the main room. There was a large roulette table where a number of people were standing or sitting around avidly watching the white marble as it bounced and tumbled around as the large wheel turned. A couple of women were excited enough to be hopping up and down urging the marble to fall on the number where they had placed their bets. Some men stared at the revolving wheel with an anxious intensity as if this spin of the wheel would either make them or break them. For some it did.
The baccarat tables were crowded with players as were the black jack tables. At a couple of other tables high stakes poker games were being played. There were tables too where people were playing friendly games of cards to help pass the time.
Brian took in the scene and could not help but smile. There were more than the usual number of people in the gaming room tonight chancing their luck. The tips would be good tonight Brian thought to himself as he started moving off.
Brian passed a small table where a man and two women were playing cards.
"Excuse me, waiter."
Brian paused and smiled at the blonde woman who called him.
"Yes, Madame?"
"Will you ask Rick if he will have a drink with us?"
Brian shook his head sadly at the blonde woman.
"Madame, Rick he never drinks with customers." Brian informed her. "In all the time I have been here I have never seen him."
"What makes saloon keepers so snobbish?" the second woman said with a pout.
The man who had listened to the exchange of his female companions with the waiter looked up at Brian.
"Perhaps if you told him that I ran the second largest banking house in Amsterdam?" The man said trying to sound important.
"The second largest?" Brian said. He shook his head. "That wouldn't impress Rick. The leading banker in Amsterdam is now the pastry chef in our kitchen."
The former banker and his two lady companions laughed at that. Brian smiled.
"Then we have something to look forward to." The former banker said to his companions.
Brian excused himself and resumed his journey. He did not have far to go.
Rick Castle sat at two seat table that gave him a clear view of the door. The white linen suit that he had worn in the afternoon was gone replaced with a white tuxedo jacket and black trousers. A bowtie completed the ensemble. He was a picture of rugged handsomeness and certainly all the females in the room cast their gazes in his direction from time during the night. Castle's attention was on the game of chess he had been playing by himself.
"Looks like a good night tonight, boss." Brian announced as he set the tray down on the table.
"Yeah." Castle replied. His eyes were focused on the pieces before him.
Brian was not fazed by Castle's unresponsiveness. He set down the empty glass on the table and poured a generous amount of bourbon into it. He set the bottle next to the glass and collected Rick's empty glass and left the boss to his chess game.
A gaming room overseer approached the table and sets a cheque and pen beside Rick's hand. Castle's eyes slid to the cheque. He picked up the pen and quickly scrawled his signature on the cheque.
"Thank you Mr Castle."
"You're welcome, Charlie."
Charlie Turner the gaming room overseer picked up the pen and cheque and quickly departed. Castle was about to turn back to his game when his attention was drawn to a commotion at the door. Abdul was trying to prevent a couple of people from entering. The tall doorman looked in Castle's direction for instructions. Castle regarded the people seeking entry and nodded his head. The doorman stood aside and smiled as he allowed them through.
Castle reached for his glass and lifted it to his lips. He took a sip of the bourbon.
As Abdul was about to close the door a German man appeared in the doorway. Abdul looked to Castle and saw Castle shake his head.
"I am sorry, sir." Abdul said in a rumbling baritone voice. "This is a private room."
The German was astonished to find himself denied entry. He glared at the tall guard.
"Of all the nerve!" He said, his anger growing. "Who do you think you are?"
"I am sorry, sir."
"I know there's gambling in here! How dare you keep me out of here."
"I am sorry sir, you can't come in." Abdul intoned.
The German man tried to barge his way through but Abdul's arm blocked him.
Castle rose to his feet with a sigh. He took a big sip of his bourbon before setting the glass down and walking briskly to the door where the German man was trying to gain entry.
"What's the problem?" Castle said.
"This gentleman sir..." Abdul said.
The German man waved his calling card in Castle's face.
"I have been in every gambling room between Honolulu to Berlin and if you think I'm going to be kept out of a saloon like this, you're very much mistaken!" The German man said with rising indignation.
Castle stared at the man without saying anything.
"You will let me through." The German man demanded.
"Is that so?" Castle said.
Castle had noticed of late that many of the German patrons to his club seemed to expect to be let in simply because they were Germans. They felt that the victories of their army across Europe automatically gained them entry everywhere. This was a kind of arrogance that galled him.
At that moment when the German man was trying to gain entry. A short man with a nervous disposition squeezes his way through.
"Excuse me please. Hello Castle."
"Ryan." Castle replied.
"What, you let him in and you wont allow me?" The German man spluttered. His face was turning a deep shade of red because of his rising anger.
Castle reached over and plucked the calling card the German man was holding in his hand. He tore the card in two and returned it to the man.
"Your cash is good at the bar." Castle informed him.
"Do you know who I am?" The German spluttered.
"I do and you should count yourself lucky the bar is open to you." Castle shot back.
The German man realised that he was not going to get in. He glared at Castle but the look was wasted.
"I'm going to report this to the Agriff, you see if I don't." He shouted as he turned and marched off.
Castle almost smiled at that empty threat. He had lost count the number of times people who had been refused entry into the gaming room threatening him about being reported to the authorities. He gave a nod to Abdul.
"Thank you, Mr Rick." Abdul said before he closed the door and resumed standing guard.
Castle turned on his heels and headed back to his table. He caught up with Ryan. The shorter man looked over to him and grinned.
"You know, Castle, watching you with that guy from the Deutsches Bank, one would think you had been doing this all your life." Kevin Ryan said with a chuckle.
"What makes you think I haven't?" Castle replied.
"Oh nothing. But when you first came to Casablanca, I thought..."
"You thought what?" Castle said coldly.
Ryan stiffened, fearing to offend the owner of the Café Americain he forced out a laugh.
"Hah, what right do I have to think?"
Castle reached his table and resumed him seat. He picked up his drink and took a sip. He watched as Ryan pulled out a chair and sat himself down uninvited. Kevin Ryan was an Irishman who had links to underground Irish criminal gangs in London. His speciality was acquisitions through the black market. If the price was right there was nothing that Ryan could not acquire. When the war came business became very lucrative but not long after the authorities began to breath down his neck making business difficult so he headed across the France where he did not stay long because he was one the few people who thought the Germans would invade the country. Fleeing France long before its fall he ended up in Casablanca where he resumed his business activities.
Castle used Ryan's services from time to time. If he needed a particular case of champagne or spirits Ryan was the go to man. If supplies of caviar were running low, Ryan was the man to see. It cost but Irishman was pretty good at getting the goods in the quickest time. They were friends of sorts though neither man advertised it.
As Ryan settled down Castle turned his attention back to the chess game.
Ryan looked around the gaming room as if he was trying to spot any sign of danger. A waiter paused at the table and set an empty glass on the table. Ryan nodded his thanks to the waiter as the man moved off. Without invitation Ryan reached over to the bottle bourbon picked it up and poured himself a generous amount into his glass.
"Too bad about those German couriers, wasn't it?" Ryan announced.
"They got a lucky break." Castle said with a shrug. He moved a black pawn.
"A lucky break?" Ryan questioned.
"Yesterday they were just two German clerks. Today they're 'Honoured Dead'."
"You're a very cynical person, Castle, if you'll forgive me for saying." Ryan said shaking his head.
"I forgive you." Castle captured the black pawn with a white knight.
"A man so cynical, there has to be a reason." Ryan continued. "There has to be a reason behind all that cynicism, I'm figuring it has to be a beautiful woman."
Castle paused in moving a chess piece and looked over to Ryan's grinning face. He shot the Irishman a deadly glare that quickly wiped the smile from the other man's face. Ryan had never seen such anger emanating from Castle. He realised that he had touched a very raw nerve. He wisely decided that this was a line of conversation that was not worth pursuing.
"Just speculating, Castle, that's all." Ryan replied hurriedly. "Meant nothing by it."
Ryan raised his glass of bourbon towards his mouth. He paused suddenly and looked over to Castle.
"Will you have a drink with me?" Ryan said.
"No." Castle said shortly, his eyes had returned to the chess game.
"Oh yes." Ryan chuckled. "I keep forgetting. You never drink with..." Ryan did not finish the sentence. He put the glass to his lips and took a big sip from it.
Ryan set his glass down and looked across the table to Castle who was studying the chessboard intently. A frown creasing his face.
"You despise me, don't you?"
"If I gave you any thought, I probably would." Castle replied without looking up.
"I don't understand, Castle." Ryan said, suddenly his face changed a little. "You object to the kind of business that I do."
Castle glanced up from the chess game and shrugged his shoulders.
"But think of all the poor refugees who would rot in this place if I didn't help them. That's not bad is it? Through ways of my own I provide them with exit visas."
"For a price, Ryan. For a price." Castle reminded him.
"But think of the poor devils who can't meet the prefect's price." Ryan insisted. "I get it for them for half the price. Is that so parasitic?"
"I don't mind a parasite." Castle said with a small grin. "I object to a cut-rate one."
As the war had intensified and more refugees were finding their way to Casablanca Ryan had decided to branch out from his usual black market activities by obtaining exit visas for those who could pay the price. It had become a very lucrative line of business.
Ryan smiled. He picked up his glass and drained the contents. He reached over and picked up the bottle and refilled his glass. He took a sip of his fresh drink and then looked across to Castle.
"Well Castle after tonight I'll be through with the whole business." Ryan announced.
Castle looked up with some surprise.
"That's right, after tonight I'm through with this business. I'm leaving Casablanca."
"Who did you bribe for your visa? You or Montgomery?" Castle asked with some amusement.
"Myself." Ryan said smoothly. "I find myself much more reasonable."
Castle lifted his glass and took a drink from it. He regarded the other man carefully. He had heard Ryan say that he was giving up the business a few times before. This time Castle suspected that Ryan just might go through with it. Give up the business. Leave Casablanca.
"Where are you going, Ryan?" Castle inquired.
"America."
"What's in America?"
"The fairest colleen of all." Ryan said with a sigh.
"Jenny?"
Ryan nodded his head.
Castle regarded the Irishman and almost smiled at the expression that he saw. He remembered meeting the woman called Jenny a couple of months ago when she had passed through on her way to America. A nice girl, a pretty girl. He also remembered how they carried on like love sick teenagers whenever they were together.
There was a tiny part of Castle that envied the Irishman but he quickly killed that emotion.
Ryan finished his drink and set the empty glass on the table. He looked about him quickly making sure that they were not being observed. He then reached into his jacket pocket and removed a large white envelope and put it down on the table.
"Castle, do you know what this is?" Ryan said, a smile rising to his face. "Something that even you have never seen."
Castle's eyebrows rose in silent question.
"Letters of transit, signed by General De Gaulle himself. Cannot be rescinded, cannot be questioned."
Castle could not help but be impressed. Letters of transit were worth a sultan's fortune. Castle's hand started moving toward the envelope. Ryan placed his hand on the envelope.
"Just a moment." Ryan said. "Tonight I will be selling these for more money than even I ever dreamed of. And then addios Casablanca."
Castle was even more impressed with the other man.
"Castle, I have many friends in Casablanca but somehow you're the only one I trust. Will you keep these for me?"
"For how long?"
"Perhaps an hour, maybe longer."
"I don't want them here overnight." Castle warned.
"No, not that long." Ryan assured him.
Castle slowly nodded his head. Ryan grinned as he pushed the envelope closer to Castle and removed his hand. Castle reached for the envelope, picked it up and quickly shoved it into the pocket inside his jacket.
"Thanks, Castle." Ryan said with a smile. "I knew that I could trust you."
The Irishman rose from his chair. He caught a passing waiter by the arm stopping him.
"Waiter, I'm expecting some people. If anybody asks for me, I'll be right here."
"Yes Monsieur." The waiter replied and then walked off.
Ryan turned to look back at Castle who was still sitting at the table.
"I hope you're more impressed with me now, Castle." Ryan said with a small smile on his face. "Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to chance my luck with your roulette wheel."
Castle rose quickly from the table and walked up to Ryan.
"Just a moment, Ryan."
"Yes?"
"I heard a rumour that those German couriers were carrying letters of transit." Castle said in a low voice.
"Yeah I heard that rumour too." Ryan replied. "Poor devils."
Castle regarded the Irishman carefully. Kevin Ryan may have been a lot of things but Castle did not peg him as a murderer. Yet this was war time and men did a lot of things in times of war that they would not ordinarily do in peace time. Castle had always prided himself on being able to read people. He would bet good money that Ryan did not kill those German couriers but he was involved all the same. Of that he was sure.
"You're right, Kevin." Castle said with a genuine smile. "I'm a little more impressed with you."
Ryan returned Castle's smile. He gave Castle a nod of the head before he moved off towards one of the roulette tables. Castle turned and headed out of the gaming room.
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Con