officially thorough as McAuliff stood helplessly by long after the aircraft had taxied into a Palisados berth. Alison remained ten yards away, sitting on a luggage dolly.
An hour and a half later, the equipment had been processed and marked for in-island transport to Boscobel Airfield, in Ocho Rios. McAuliff's temper was stretched to the point of gritted teeth and a great deal of swallowing. He grabbed Alison's arm and marched them both towards the terminal.
'For heaven's sake, Alex, you're bruising my elbow!' said Alison under her breath, trying to hold back her laughter.
'Sorry... I'm sorry. Those goddamned messiahs think they inherited the earth! The bastards!'
'They recently inherited their own island - '
'I'm in no mood for anti-colonial lectures,' he interrupted. I'm in the mood for a drink. Let's stop at the lounge.'
'What about our bags?'
'Oh, Christ! I forgot... it's this way, if I remember,' said Alex, pointing to a gate entrance on the right.
'Yes,' replied Alison. "Incoming Flights" usually means that.'
'Be quiet. My first order to you as a subordinate is not to say another word until we get our bags and I have a drink in my hand.'
But McAuliffs command, by necessity, was rescinded. Their luggage was nowhere in sight. And apparently no one knew where it might be; all passenger baggage stored on Flight 640 from London had been picked up. An hour ago.
'We were on that flight. We did not pick up our bags. So, you see, you're mistaken,' said Alex curtly to the luggage manager.
'Then you look-see, mon,' answered the Jamaican, irritated by the American's implication that he was less than efficient. 'Every suitcase taken - nothing left. Flight 640 all here, mon! No place other.'
'Let me talk to the BOAC representative. Where is he?'
'Who?'
'Your boss, goddamn it!'
'I top mon!' replied the black angrily.
Alex held himself in check. 'Look, there's been a mix-up. The airline's responsible, that's all I'm trying to say.'
'I think not, mon,' interjected the luggage manager defensively as he turned to a telephone on the counter. 'I will call Bo-Ack.'
'BOAC.' McAuliff spoke softly to Alison. 'Our bags are probably on the way to Buenos Aires.' They waited while the man spoke briefly on the phone.
'Here, mon.' The manager held the phone out for Alex. 'You talk, please.'
'Hello?'
'Dr McAuliff?' said the British voice.
'Yes. McAuliff.'
'We merely followed the instructions in your note, sir.'
'What note?'
'To First Class Accommodations. The driver brought it to us. The taxi. Mrs Booth's and your luggage was taken to Courtleigh Manor. That is what you wished, is it not, sir?' The voice was laced with a trace of over-clarification, as if the speaker were addressing someone who had had an extra drink he could not handle.
'I see... Yes, that's fine,' said Alex quietly. He hung up the telephone and turned to Alison. 'Our bags were taken to the hotel'
'Really? Wasn't that nice.' A statement.
'No, I don't think it was,' answered McAuliff. 'Come on, let's find that bar.'
They sat at a corner table in the Palisados observation lounge. The red-jacketed waiter brought their drinks while humming a Jamaican folk tune softly. Alex wondered if the island's tourist bureau instructed all those who served visitors to hum tunes and move rhythmically. He reached for his glass and drank a large portion of his double Scotch. He noticed that Alison, who was not much of a drinker, seemed as anxious as he was to put some alcohol into her system.
All things considered - all things - it was conceivable that his luggage might be stolen. Not hers. But the note had specified his and Mrs Booth's.
'You didn't have any more artillery, did you?' asked Alex quickly. 'Like that compressor?'
'No. It would have set off bells in the airline X-ray. I declared this prior to boarding.' Alison pointed to her purse.
'Yes, of course,' he mumbled.
'I must say, you're remarkably calm. I should think you'd be telephoning the hotel, see if the bags got there... oh, not for me. I don't travel with the Crown jewels.'
'Oh, Lord, I'm sorry, Alison.' He pushed his chair back. 'I'll call right away.'
'No, please.' She reached out and put her hand over his. 'I think you're doing what you're doing for a reason. You don't want to appear upset. I think you're right. If they're gone, there's nothing I can't replace in the morning.'
'You're very understanding. Thanks.'
She withdrew her hand and drank again. He pulled his chair back and shifted his position slightly, towards the interior of the lounge. Unobtrusively, he began scanning the other tables.
The observation lounge was half