“Oh, it’s you,” he said in Serbo-Croat. He put the bags down and turned to go.
“Wait a minute,” Wolfe said. “There is something to say.”
“You can say it later. This is a busy time.”
“Just one word, then. Don’t go to any pains to keep us from hearing you speak English. Of course you do — some, at least — or you couldn’t be a cabin steward on this boat.”
“You’re smart,” he said in Serbo-Croat. “Okay,” he said in American, and went.
Wolfe told me to shut the door, and I did. When I turned back he had his eyes closed and was sighing, deep, and then again, deeper. He opened his eyes, looked at the bags and then at me, and told me what had been said.
“We ought to know his name,” I suggested.
“We will. Go on deck and watch the gangway. He might take it into his head to skedaddle.”
“Why should he?”
“He shouldn’t. But a man with his frontal lobes pushed back like that is unpredictable. Go.”