Гарри Гаррисон - The QE2 Is Missing

“I thought Australia was the land of perpetual sunshine?” Frances said.

“Not quite this time of year. Their seasons are opposite to ours and it’ll be winter soon.”

“They’ll have to enjoy its brisk pleasures without me.

Darling, I must do something about my hair. Where will I meet you?”

“In the bar. I’ll order you the most exotic Australian cocktail they have.”

“I don’t drink beer. I’ll just be a minute.”

Hank stood in the entrance to the bar, looking around the room, until he saw Uzi rising from a table against the far wall. The Nazi-hunter came over to him, extending his hand.

“Welcome to Australia, Hank. It’s good to see you here.” They shook hands.

“I wish I was as happy about it as you are. In any case I’m here — and ready to go. Where is our target?”

“At that table by the far window, see him? He’s the one with the bald head with the fringe of gray around the bottom. The table for four with the two empty seats. I arranged that so he and his wife will be having lunch alone.”

“Okay. Did the letter come through?”

“Right on time. The courier brought it this morning.”

He took a white envelope from his pocket and handed it to Hank who tore it open. There was a single sheet of paper inside; he read it quickly and nodded. “This should do it,” he said, putting the letter into his own pocket. “I’ll take it from here.”

“I’ll be waiting here in the bar to see how it goes.”

“A piece of cake. He’s going to have to say yes.”

“How can you be sure? I know that we are not. I have an alternate plan just in case…. “

“Uzi, please. Save your alternate plan for some other time. I know what I’m doing. I’ve talked to New York and worked it out with some people there. Don’t worry. This thing is in the bag and all you have to do is sit back and admire the way that I handle it.”

“I hope that you are right, Hank. As you say, this is your ball game and you know how to handle it best.”

Uzi went back to his table as Hank hurried to the bar and ordered two extra-dry martini cocktails, American style. The bartender permitted him to add the traditional drops of vermouth himself. They were just set up on the bar when Frances appeared, and she nodded respectfully after tasting hers.

“I take back everything I said about Foster’s lager,” she said.

“That’s a bribe for good conduct,” Hank told her. “We’re going to meet some people now and you will undoubtedly open your eyes wide at some of the things that you will hear, but I beg of you, say naught. All will be revealed soon. And, listen, darling,” he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, “I am really incredibly glad that you are here with me. There are one or two things I have been waiting for a good time to tell you about. This looks like the time.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It’s not meant to be. You’ll see.” Hank led the way across the restaurant towards the paunchy man in the light blue sports jacket. The jacket was almost the same color, he realized, as the blue-rinsed gray hair of the woman who sat across from him, sipping white wine.

“The restaurant is crowded,” Hank said, “is it all right if we sit here?”

“Be my guest,” the man said in a deep voice with a decided New York accent. “Always glad to help a countryman. And we’ve been eating with limeys for the last week.”

Frances frowned and started to speak — then thought better of it. Hank gave her an appreciative wink, then pulled the chair out for her.

“My wife’s a limey,” he said, smiling.

“Great news. They’re wonderful people, though none of the others are as good looking as her.” Frances smiled at this, flattery will always get you somewhere; and sat down gracefully. Hank joined them and got right to work.

“My name is Hank Greenstein, this is my wife, Frances. And you are Mr. and Mrs. Wunderbaum.”

“We got mutual friends in the shmotta business or something?” Wunderbaum asked.

“No, sorry. You were pointed out to me. You’ve just arrived in Sydney aboard the QE2. ”

“A day tour of the city,” Mrs. Wunderbaum said. “Everything included in the price of the cruise, including lunch in this restaurant. They didn’t tell us it was going to rain.”

“They rarely do in cruise brochures,” Hank said. “Are you enjoying the voyage so far?”

“It’s very nice…. “

“The food is drek,” Wunderbaum said.

“But in such big portions,” she admonished him. “The doctor said a cruise, so you got a cruise.”

“I’m going to get a new doctor who tells me Miami. At least when I make a business call from there it’s in the same time zone.”

“I have a reason for asking,” Hank said. “This may sound strange, but please think about it carefully before answering. It’s this — would you possibly be willing to cancel this cruise if you had all of your money refunded and were flown back to the States? First Class, of course.”

“Something wrong with my business that they’re not telling me about!” Wunderbaum cried. “I knew it. Go away for a week and theyoulds lose me business. Go on a world cruise and I’m out of business…. “

“No, please,” Hank said. “This has nothing to do with your affairs. It’s another matter completely. It’s just that I and my wife would like to use your suite for the balance of the cruise.”

Hank was aware of Frances’s dropping jaw and staring eyes; however, he did not let his gaze meet hers.

Wunderbaum had his own eyes half closed in a most suspicious squint.

“What are you up to? What’s this all about?”

“Are you personally acquainted with Mr. David Rabino?”

“Show me someone in the garment center that isn’t. All of us together, we personally support the State of Israel.”

“Would you know his signature?”

“He knows mine better. I give him enough checks.”

“Seriously. Would you recognize his signature and letterhead?”

“Know it? I could forge it. Dave and I, we worked together for years before he got into fund-raising full time. It beats retiring, he said.”

Hank took the envelope from his pocket and extracted the letter and passed it over. Wunderbaum opened it and spread it flat on the table before him. Then he took his reading glasses out of his breast pocket and perched them on the end of his nose. He read slowly, and at one point said Veyl under his breath and looked up at Hank. Then he finished the letter and handed it back. When I think about it, Rabino’s signature, it’s maybe easy to forge.”

“Maybe. And I don’t want you to make your mind up on the letter alone. Do you have his phone number? He’s waiting for a call from you.”

“Sure I know his number. But, mister, here in Australia it’s like twenty-one hours behind New York. So it’s early tomorrow of a Sunday there and could be he wants to sleep?”

“He said you’re to call him at any time, day or night. It’s that important.”

“I’ll give him a call now,” Wunderbaum said, climbing heavily to his feet.

“The food, it’ll get cold,” his wife called after him.

“Tell them to put it back into the oven. If it’s like what we eat on the boat it won’t do no harm.”

“You shouldn’t ask him things like this,” she said, unhappily, looking after his vanishing back.

“I’m really very sorry,” Hank said. “If there were any other way, believe me, I would have done that. But this is it.”

“But why? What’s going on?”

“I’m sure your husband will tell you.”

“Not if he’s like my husband,” Frances broke in, unable to remain quiet any longer. “Mount Rushmore tells me more than he does.”