Free Dreams Bigger Than the Night by Paul M. Levitt

But Rolf took less than a few seconds to empty half the vial into the cup of steaming coffee. He then released the rope to exclamations of relief from the cook.
    Once he had replaced the panels, he removed his uniform, opened the room’s porthole, and threw the clothes into the sea. He then went in search of the Brundages. Avery was in the gym using a treadmill. Rolf stripped to his shorts and entered the weight room. As he cradled the dumbbells, he imagined the following scenario. The elderly couple would see the cabin boy and ask about his health. The boy would say that he was feeling fine. “But another fellow showed up to clean our room with the excuse that you were ill.” The boy would say, “But you asked me to return after lunch.” The couple would say that no such conversation ever took place. “Perhaps it has to do with the attempted robbery,” the cabin boy would say in an effort to clear up the confusion. The captain would be summoned. He would ask the couple if they could identify the man if they saw him again. “Yes, of course.” The captain would then ask the couple to attend both sittings for every meal and scrutinize every person they passed. Rolf could not afford to hide himself lest he leave Avery Brundage unguarded. A second assassin might still be on the loose.
    When Room 218 stopped taking meals—first dinner and then breakfast—and had neglected to return the dishes from lunch the day before, the purser entered Room 218 and found the little-known, blonde Swedish actress Ingrid Paiken dead in a parlor chair, wearing only a dressing gown and a string of expensive pearls. A tray of rancid food stood on the tea table, and a coffee cup lay on the rug.
    The news electrified the ship. A promising movie star had been on board, had been traveling incognito, and had been found dead. No one knew the reason for the secrecy or the cause of death. But gossip, which is like a choir, gives rise to all manner of voices. The explanation most often repeated was that Ingrid had been traveling to America to meet a lover, and in fond expectation of falling into his arms, had suffered a heart attack.
    But the shipboard tragedies didn’t end with the young woman’s death. Less than a day before docking, the elderly couple in Room 318 had been reported missing. The only clue was traces of blood found on the frame of the porthole. Nothing of value was stolen. The man’s wallet and the woman’s purse were still in the room. Their passports were untouched. The few valuable pieces of jewelry the woman owned had been safely stored in the ship’s safe. When the question of motive arose, the cabin boy told his story of someone having replaced him to clean the room, and the cook related the trouble he’d had with the dumbwaiter. On close inspection of the shaft, a ship’s mechanic declared that the screws to the panel had been tampered with and suggested that possibly the same person responsible for the disappearance of the elderly couple was responsible for the death of the Swedish actress. The captain, aghast, wired ahead to New York requesting that a squad of detectives meet the boat.
    Sitting down for dinner with the Brundages the night before docking, Rolf was introduced to a pretty, dark-haired woman whom Elizabeth had become friendly with on the crossing. Her name was Elspeth Botinsky, an émigré from Ruthenia. As Rolf listened to the conversation between the women, he heard in Elspeth’s speech a few pronunciations that led him to speak to her in German. When she responded, he could hear in her Deutsche a Yiddish inflection. It was then that he realized his error. The commandos sent from Palestine were not men, but women. One was now dead and the other sitting across from him. Before the ship docked, would he be able to get Elspeth alone? If not, she would disembark in New York, lose herself in the crowd, and stalk Avery Brundage. For the moment, she was sitting just a few feet from him. He couldn’t squander