met him until he took me over four days ago.“

„Took you over?“

„When he won the Rose from Mr. Bassinger.“ Danfold

gazed blearily but proudly around the deck.

It was a craft worthy of pride, Bentsen thought. Indeed,

he’d admired it from the riverbank: it was long and white and

impressive; two tall plumed smokestacks towered over its

three decks and a flag on the jackstaff whipped lazily in the

breeze. An ornate golden rose was emblazoned on the huge

white paddlebox above the name of the riverboat.

„Where the Rose goes, I go,“ Danfold declared.

„I doubt his highness will entrust this boat to you if you

continue to overindulge in this fashion.“

Danfold glanced at him over his shoulder, his hazel eyes no

longer vague but sharp with annoyance. „We’re docked,

dammit. I don’t touch a drop when I’m on the job. I not only

just got my captain’s papers, but I’m the best damn pilot on the

river and don’t you forget it.“

„It’s none of my concern,“ Bentsen said. He wouldn’t have

wasted time talking to this fellow if his nerves hadn’t been

frayed by worry over his client’s reaction to the report he was

about to give. The information his agents had acquired was

flimsy at best; still, he probably could bluff his way through

the interview, for any man who would permit drunkenness in

his employees couldn’t be too difficult to handle. „And I’ll

hardly bother to remember anything that concerns either the

Mississippi Rose or yourself. I merely thought it best to issue a

warning. Prince Savron is a very rich and powerful man and

accustomed to instant obedience and decorum from his

employees.“

„Decorum?“ Danfold blinked. „Nicky?“

„And I’m sure he’d prefer you to be more formal in your

address. Russian nobility is very finicky about etiquette.“

„Formal.“ Danfold nodded solemnly, his lids veiling his

eyes. „Yessiree, Mr. Bentsen. I’ll try to remember that.“ He

opened a handsome mahogany door. „This leads to the saloon.

The master stateroom can be reached by either the saloon or

the hurricane deck, but this is quicker. By the way, when did

you meet Prince Nicholas?“

„We’ve communicated only by letter but – “ Bent-sen

broke off as he stepped through the entrance of a saloon

stretching an astounding three hundred feet in length, its wall

ringing with the music of a lively waltz. „Good Lord, what’s

going on?“

„A party,“ Danfold said blandly as he closed the door of the

saloon behind him. „To celebrate his highness’s acquisition of

the Mississippi Rose. Nicky – I mean, his highness – likes

parties.“

Party? Orgy more accurately described the goings-on in the

saloon, Bentsen thought sourly. A four-piece orchestra was

playing with enthusiasm at the far end of the long room, and

the scent of cigar smoke, perfume, and alcohol permeated the

air. The saloon was crowded with a motley collection of well-

dressed New Orleans bucks, rivermen in denim trousers and

coarse cotton shirts, and pretty ladies in satin gowns in all the

hues of the rainbow. Then, as he saw one of the gentlemen

who was dancing with a particularly buxom beauty pull down

her bodice and bare her naked breasts, he mentally substituted

the term women for ladies. Orgy, indeed!

He averted his gaze from the man who was now nuzzling

the blond woman’s nipple. „A party at one o’clock in the

afternoon?“

„Well, it started at night.“ Danfold crossed the saloon to the

door of a stateroom with a beautifully executed painting of a

peaceful river scene. „Four nights ago when Nicky won the

Rose in a poker game in the cardroom at Madam LaRue’s

place, he invited all the customers and Madam’s girls to come

down for a celebration.“ He nodded at the man who was

occupied with the mammary attractions of the blonde. „Even

Mr. Bassinger.“ He knocked on the door. „I guess he thought

Mr. Bassinger needed a little cheering up after losing the Rose.

It’s a damn fine boat.“

Fine was an understatement, Bentsen thought, looking

around the enormous saloon. The high white and gold ceiling

was divided into large diamond shapes by the crossing of

Gothic arches. Above were large stained-glass skylights

through which streamed a rainbow of colored light that ignited

a fiery glitter on the sparkling crystal of the twelve large

chandeliers. A plush crimson carpet ran the entire length of the

saloon, and the doors of the innumerable staterooms lining the

main cabin on either side were embellished with beautifully

painted landscapes similar to the one on the door in front of

him.

The door abruptly swung open in answer to Dan-fold’s

knock.

Immense. The word immediately struck Bentsen as he

gazed at the huge man who had opened the door. He was

dressed in a white tunic, black trousers, and polished knee-

length boots, and was at least seven feet tall. With blazing red

hair crowning his head like scarlet snow cresting a mountain,

and his features as rough as the crags of a rocky summit, he

was a breathtaking figure.

„Mikhail Kuzdief, this is Mr. Bentsen of the Randall

Investigative Agency,“ Danfold said. „He wants to see Nicky.“

He snapped his fingers. „Damn, I keep forgetting. He wants to

see his highness, Prince Nicholas Savron.“

A low, sobbing moan, undeniably feminine, drifted from

the interior of the stateroom beyond Mikhail’s broad

shoulders.

„Unless he’s busy,“ Danfold added hurriedly.

„He is busy.“ Mikhail’s impassive brown gaze rested on

Bentsen’s face. „But he is almost finished and he will not mind

if you both come in.“ He threw open the door and stepped

aside. „Sit down. Would you like a glass of wine while you

wait?“

„What?“ Shocked, Bentsen stared at the wide bed across

the room on which two naked bodies were engaged in an

activity best suited for that piece of furniture. The woman

moaned again and the man paused to glance down at her and

chuckle. Bentsen jerked his gaze back to the big Russian.

„Perhaps I’d better wait outside.“

„Nonsense, sit down and watch.“

Bentsen hastily looked around. An overstuffed brocade

chair to the left of the door was occupied by a slender, young

man who was elegantly garbed. One leg, encased in tight

fawn-colored gabardine trousers, was thrown casually over the

arm of the chair and swung indolently. „Allow me to introduce

myself. I am Valentin Marinov.“ He gestured with the crystal

goblet in his hand toward the man on the bed. „And that’s

Nicky. I’m afraid he’s too busy at the moment to stand up and

make his bow.“

„I see. Suppose I wait on deck until he’s less… occupied.“

„Why?“ Marinov s brow rose. „It’s damnably hot up there.

The heat in your city of New Orleans is almost unbearable in

the afternoon.“ He gestured to the chair beside him. „You’ll be

much more comfortable here. I assure you Nicky will not

object.“

Bentsen hesitated. „The lady…“

„The ‘lady’ likes an audience,“ Marinov murmured. „Five

nights ago at Madam LaRue’s she satisfied three gentlemen

simultaneously at one of Madam’s little staged presentations.

Liza tells us that being watched adds immeasurably to her

excitement.“ He lifted the goblet to his lips. „Which is the

reason Mikhail and I are here. Nicky always tries to please his

ladies.“

„She does seem to be enjoying herself.“ Danfold grinned.