Гарри Гаррисон - The QE2 Is Missing

“Good evening, sir,” he said, pushing the sheet of cardboard forward hopefully. Diaz waved it away.

“I’m meeting someone here. Are there any messages?”

“No, none at all.”

“He may be late. Bring me a beer, a Moctezuma.”

Diaz seated himself at a table by the back wall where he could see the entrance clearly. He would just have to wait. Josep was a wanted man. The police of a number of countries — and particularly the CIA — would be happy to pay large sums to lay their hands on him. Therefore, this roundabout way of meeting, to make sure that Diaz was alone. He was pretty sure that he had been followed, positive of it in fact. It didn’t matter. He had to see Josep. They had met once, briefly, years earlier, and Josep would know all about his organization and the work he was doing. Yet this would be no assurance to him that Diaz had not turned police informer since then. Therefore, the precautions. He sipped at the chill beer — then jumped, startled, as someone sat down next to him.

“Back entrance. That’s why we meet here,” the man s*aid. “What do you want, Diaz?”

“To see you about something important to both of us. You got my message…. “

He broke off as the waiter approached. Josep ordered a beer as well. He had changed since Diaz had last seen him, lost weight, fined down. His nose was even more hawklike and the skin was stretched tight over his Drominent cheekbones. He no longer wore the familiar ^yepatch, that would have been too recognizable; but when you looked close it was obvious that his right eye was false. They sat in silence until the waiter had brought the beer and moved away out of earshot.

“Do you still have an organization we could work with?” Diaz asked.

Josep nodded. “Still in operation. We don’t have as many as we did before the murders in 1974, but the Tupamaros will fight on as long as there is one of us left.”

And they would too, Diaz thought to himself. The Tupamaros in Uruguay had been the toughest urban guerillas in the entire world. Terror had been only one of their weapons. The movement had been crushed by the government, but only after years of struggle. While the organization was dead inside the country, it existed in exile just as Diaz’s organization did. They had that much in common, forced to flee from their own countries by military dictatorships at home. Otherwise they were very different. Diaz was working for peaceful liberation by democratic means. The Tupamaros believed in violent revolution. Their common bond was exile — and hatred.

“We must cooperate,” Diaz said.

“Why?”

“Because my organization has uncovered an operation launched in common by the rulers of our two countries.” +>

“What do you mean operation? What do those pieces of dung have in common?”

“The need for repression — and the fact that they are loathed by every nation in the civilized world. The> must have guns and weapons for this repression anc they are running out of sources. But not any longer They have made a deal with an organization called Global Traders. Have you heard of them?”

“Yes. A really big-time operation. They’ll sell any thing to anyone — as long as you have the price. The were the ones supposed to have supplied the plutonium to the Israelis to make their atom bomb.”

“… they’re selling to Uruguay and Paraguay now. An operation worth over two hundred and fifty million dollars. I have a transcript here of a recent conference they had with Global. The weapons and their quantities are all listed. They are going to have a meeting very soon to pay for the shipment. In diamonds, I don’t know if we can intercept the shipment — but if we can interfere with the payment the deal won’t be completed.”

Josep’s good eye glared fiercely. “Interfered with,” he said in a low voice, “And perhaps intercepted?”

“That’s what I was thinking about. We are working on the intelligence end—”

“But you will need people to carry through the interception operation. People who know how to handle weapons and how to fight. Right?”

“My thoughts exactly. If we can stop them, we will have done something important. If we can possibly lay our hands on the payment, or even part of it, there will be funds enough for all our needs.”

“I agree,” Josep put out his hand. “Now let me see the transcript.”

“One more thing first. Or rather two things. No ^discriminate bloodshed. Your organization has killed a lot of people who had nothing to do with the military.”

“You can’t make an omelette without scrambling eggs.”

“You can this time — or there is no deal. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Josep said with disgust in his voice. ‘What other conditions are there?”

“The split. Whatever we get out of this is fifty-fifty. light down the middle.”

“Yes, of course, no trouble with that one. You set them up and we’ll knock them down. Now give me the papers.”

Diaz passed the sheaf of typescript across the table and sipped at his beer while the Tupamaro leader read through the transcript of the tape that had been secretly recorded of the meeting in the Palace in Asuncion a few days earlier.

When Josep had finished he let the papers drop from his fingers onto the table as he sat, buried in thought. “Diamonds,” he finally said. “Diamonds. As good as gold — better than gold — anywhere in the world. Untraceable. What is this mention in the end about the QE2? Do you have any more details on the connection with the ship?”

“Some. That is the lead we are working on now, in fact that is the lead that started this whole operation. And we have outside aid, people you have worked with before. They will help a lot and they will not ask for any cuts. They just want some Nazis who are involved.”

“The Israelis,” Josep said, smiling coldly. “I love them. My country is riddled with Nazi vermin, inside the government and out. We’ve given information to the underground Jewish groups in the past, and they have put their hands on some of the big fish through us Each one they get rid of is one less to aid the military government. How are they helping?”

“They’ve identified some of the passengers aboard the QE2 as Nazis on their very-wanted list. They have agents aboard the ship now and others at every port of call. We don’t know yet what connection the QE2 has with the payment arrangements, but we’ll know as soon as they do.”

“Good — but not good enough. We must get our own people aboard as soon as possible. We can’t wait until we hear what is happening. If the deal takes place aboard the ship we must be there. If they leave the ship — then we leave with them and nothing has been wasted.”

“I feel the same way,” Diaz said, draining his beer and signalling the waiter for two more bottles. “My first thought was to contact you for help with this operation, since it means a good deal to both of us. Then, when I found out where you were, I had a feeling that a beneficial God was smiling on both of us…. “

“Please. Leave religion to the priests and old women and tell me just what in hell you are talking about.”

“Mexico, of course. The QE2 is now on its way from Australia to Hawaii. There is nothing we can do in Hawaii, it is too far away and we don’t have enough time. And the Americans would love to have you visit their islands. No, it is the port of call after that that is of the greatest interest to us. Acapulco.”

“Cargata!” Josep said, banging the table so hard in his excitement that the empty beer bottle fell over and crashed to the floor. He sat there, thudding one tight fist slowly and steadily into the palm of his other hand while the waiter cleaned up the mess and brought new beers. As soon as they were alone again he leaned forward and spoke in a low and intense voice.