Chapter Nine
The short man was a familiar sight in the streets of Casablanca. Known only as Andre, he was a recognizable felllow with his perpetualy nervous air and large, bulging eyes.
He glanced quickly at his watch and then looked around the crowded club. The night was young, but only a few table remained empty and those were marked as "reserved."
From every wall, mirrors shone with the images of the diverse guests who passed away their time with dining and good music. They were the wealtiest of the refugees who waited to leave the hot, dusty Moroccan town. And, while fate gambled with them, they amused themselve with the roulette wheel and the card games in the club's exclusive back room.
Andre leaned across the gleaming bar and motioned to Daniel.
"Is the boss in his office?"
"Oui, Monsieur Andre. He figured you would be round this evening."
Andre glanced around the room again.
"Daniel, give me a cognac first. On my tab."
Daniel laughed and shook his head.
"The boss says no more credit for you. You and your damned nerves will bankrupt the place."
Andre shrugged and squared his shoulders in attempt to look confident.
"Hmmm. Well, then. Never mind. After tonight, I won't need credit here."
Daniel made a subtle nod towards the door.
"I'd be careful what you say tonight. Inspector Giry's got a table reserved. Got some German guests coming. Important fellows that he'll be oiling and flattering."
With yet another nervous glance around, Andre eased his way through the table towards the stairs to the office. He paused at the piano where a tall thin man with gray, curly hair was just opening the keyboard.
"Evening, Sam," he said, glancing down at the sheet music, "no singers tonight?"
Sam Reyer shook his head.
"Not tonight. Ingrid got a little too curious about the boss so he told me to fire her. He gave her good references, though."
Sam began to play as Andre climbed the steep stairs.
While the little man waited for his knock to be answered, he looked over the rail. From the landing, he had a fine view of the nightclub with it mix of French mirrors and carved Moraccan screens.
He saw a young couple in the entrance. The man was tall and blonde, dressed in a fine suit of white linen. The beautiful woman beside him wore a pale yellow dress. Her soft brown hair was swept back into a low know against the nape of her neck.
From the other side of the heavy door, he heard a voice.
"Come in, Monsieur Andre. I've been expecting you."