The QE2 Is Missing

“Not in the Queen’s Grill Bar. Too stuffy. I’ll be in the Lido Bar watching the beach boys showing off in the pool.”

“Good. I’ll be as fast as I can.”

There’s just no way out of it now, Hank thought, as he walked slowly back to their quarters. No way. I don’t mind for myself, I knew what I was getting into. But I was kidding myself when I thought I could bring Frances on this trip and not have her get involved. It must have been the old subconscious at work; wanting to tell her but afraid to tell her. So unconsciously I set up a situation where she would have to find out what I have been doing. Or am I being too Freudian? Oh the hell with it — what’s done is done. He rapped loudly on the door of their suite, then again angrily when it wasn’t answered at once. It opened a crack and a suspicious dark eye looked at him before it was swung wide.

Josep was sitting next to the tape recorder with earphones on, listening. Uzi and the girl were watching him, as was Leandro Diaz. The other four Tupamaros were sprawled in the chairs or sitting against the wall. The room was crowded, the air thick with strong tobacco. Uzi looked up as Hank came in, then waved him over.

“They all seem to be meeting in there,” he said. “This tape is almost finished. Get another, quickly.”

“Just as soon as you get some of these people out of here. Those four, they’re not needed. Nor is the girl. Out.”

Josep lifted one earphone and nodded solemn agreement, taking no notice of the anger in Hank’s voice. He spoke quickly and curtly and the Tupamaros got up and filed into the next room. Discipline. As soon as the bedroom door had closed behind them Hank went to the dresser and found the fresh tape under the clothing in the bottom drawer.

“Shall I change it now? Before things warm up in there?”

“Yes, good idea,” Uzi said. “Stroessner and two of his aides are in this suite next to you. Admiral Marquez and his people are across the passageway. All of the conversation has been in Spanish so far. Mostly complaints about the flight down here. A big tropical storm brewing and they had to drop down through it to land. Stroessner was airsick and is feeling very sorry for himself. He is now drinking neat gin to cure the condition.”

“That’s a remedy I never heard of before.”

“He is washing it down with Bavarian beer. A Teutonic boilermaker. The phone rang once and he spoke in German when answering it. He was almost polite when he talked, referring to the other party always as Herr Doktor.”

“Could it be Wielgus!?”

“My fingers are crossed — and yours should be as well. We’ve had people watching the boarding in every port, but he could easily have slipped through. Our only photo of him is thirty years old. But if Doctor Joachim Wielgus is aboard, why then we are getting close, very close indeed…. “

“Silence,” Josep said. “He is making another phone call, this one in English. Talking to the weapons people. Telling them to bring the diamond expert at once. Now.”

“This is it!” Hank said. “We have them.”

Even the stolid Josep permitted a small smile to touch his lips as he nodded agreement.

The meeting was taking place.

16

“Another beer, Jose, instantly, another beer for the love of God!” Stroessner patted his rounded stomach and groaned, then belched deeply. Major de Laiglesia snapped his fingers in the direction of Sergeant Pradera who was standing stolidly near the bar.

“At your orders, General,” the Major said, keeping the chain of command intact.

Pradera opened a bottle, took a chilled mug from the freezer and carefully poured it full, then brought it over on a tray to Stroessner. The General clutched at it, drained half of the contents, then groaned.

“First airsick, then next it will be seasick, I know.”

Major de Laiglesia did his best to reassure his suffering commander. “The storm will undoubtedly end soon. And this ship, so big with tremendous stabilizers, you’ll feel nothing…. “

“Shut up. Pour the gin.”

There was a sudden sharp knocking on the door. Sergeant Pradera stepped to one side where he had a clear view of the door, at the same time drawing his U.S. Army issue.45 calibre automatic. An old and treasured weapon with which he had twice won the Paraguayan National Championship.

“Who is it?” de Laiglesia called out, his hand on the doorknob.

“Chvosta.”

Stroessner nodded and de Laiglesia opened the door.

Sergeant Pradera waited until he was sure of the visitor’s identity before he holstered his gun. The fat weapons merchant had to turn sideways to pass through the door. Aur-elia Hortiguela came after him followed by Hendrik De Groot. Chvosta waited until the door was closed before he spoke.

“This is our diamond man, De Groot. Where are the stones?”

General Stroessner groaned again as he stood and turned his back on Chvosta and walked to the bedroom door. He stopped with his hand on the knob and spoke to de Laiglesia.

“Tell them what has to be done.” He went into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

“Your General is a pig,” Aurelia said. Chvosta waved her to silence.