Гарри Гаррисон - The QE2 Is Missing

“Did you feel that?” he said. “There are supposed to be things on this ship to stop that. I thought we couldn’t feel the waves.”

“Stabilizers,” Colonel Hartig said. “Fins that extend just below the sea. Effective only in moderate seas. The weather report was for severe tropical storms.”

“More comments?” Wielgus asked.

There was really nothing more to talk about. All the details of the agreement had been hammered out during the past months and the parties concerned were in complete agreement about all of the basic principles. Stroessner shrugged while Marquez drank his wine and said nothing.

“Then, if we are in agreement, the time has come to sign. Colonel Hartig, if you please.”

Hartig took up the thin briefcase that was beneath his chair and unlocked it. He produced three manila folders. “These three agreements are identical,” he said. “Therefore, I shall give you one, General Stroessner, and you one as well, Admiral. If you will be so kind as to open them to the first page I will read mine aloud so as we can be absolutely sure that there is no disagreement on any point. I begin…. “

They nodded their heads over the documents as point after point was checked off. This did not take long. Hartig looked up when he had finished, but there were no dissenting voices.

“I take it we agree then, gentlemen. If you would be so kind as to bring your copies to the desk, we can sign. As you can see, I have taken the liberty of entering today’s date in every document. Doctor Wielgus — would you do us the favor of signing first?”

“Of course.”

His pen scratched once, twice, thrice, and he stepped back. Then the others signed and were each handed a copy of the document. Stroessner shook his head and chuckled aloud.

“Capital! Capital!” he said. “Now all that remains is the transaction with the diamonds and the turning over of the ship.”

“Yes. But tomorrow,” Wielgus said. “It is after midnight and communication with shore stations will be hard to do by radio. We will begin again in the morning. I will have the Czech informed that we meet here at ten a.m. to finish the operation.” He picked up the phone and called a cabin number, issued a quick command and hung up. Within a minute there was a knocking on the door. “My men are here. I bid you all a goodnight.”

He picked up the bag of diamonds, opened the door and left.

The slam of the closing door in the suite next door was the only sound that penetrated the hushed silence of the room. All four of the men there had been leaning close to the loudspeaker, turned low so there could be no possibility of audible feedback, listening with intense concentration to every word spoken. Now the sound of the door acted as a release of tension, an end to the meeting, a stopping point. The Israeli, Uzi Drezner, shook himself as though he had just stepped out from under a cold shower. Hank Greenstein leaned forward and turned off the speaker but left the recording tape running.

“The dirty, dirty bastards,” he said in a low voice, scarcely aware that he had spoken aloud.

“Amen to that,” Leandro Diaz said, wearily, rubbing his hand over the fresh bristles on his face. “Like that. Just like that — they give away my country to those swine. If I had not heard it with my own ears, if I had been told about this, I would not have believed it.”

Only the Tupamaro leader, Josep, seemed unmoved by what they had heard. His expression and his manner did not change as he took out a cigarette and lit it. Yet his actions were just as much a statement as theirs. His life was already dedicated to overthrowing the corrupt regime in his country by any means. This disclosure added nothing new to that resolve. You cannot paint the devil blacker than he already is; you can only obliterate him.

“They have put themselves in our hands,” he said, exhaling a lungful of smoke. “They have destroyed themselves.”

“Josep is right,” Uzi said, standing and stretching, then walking about the room to ease his cramped muscles. “We have always known what these creatures are like. Read Hitler’s Mein Kampf— written over fifty years ago — and you’ll find the same anti-Semitic fascist filth that Wielgus was spouting in there. But we have them now, all of them. They have gone too far. You do realize that there is a plan behind this Nazi move that was not mentioned in there, a far bigger plan than buying arms for your two-bit dictators?”

He had their attention now. Even Josep looked up. For him and for Diaz the liberation of their homelands was all that counted. They considered nothing beyond that. Hank was only confused.

“What plan?” he asked. “This looks like a straightforward deal to trade money for a safe hideout. Isn’t that all it is?”

“Far from it,” Uzi said. “What we were listening to a few minutes ago was nothing more than an attempt to establish a firm base for the Fourth Reich.”

“That’s insane,” Hank gasped.

“Probably. But that doesn’t mean that it won’t be tried anyway. Old age is the only real enemy that these concentration camp commanders and SS men face. They have all the money that they need, all of the security; Wielgus and the Brunderbund see to that. But they are slowly dying off, one by one. Senility, death and boredom are their only enemies. Over thirty years has passed since their days of glory. If those days are ever to come again they must establish a physical base right now for the glorious Fourth Reich that they are always talking about. Now they have that base. Uruguay and Paraguay. They will come to these countries as advisors — but in ten years’ time they will control them outright. A.homeland at last. They are rich, intelligent, vicious — and we live in the world of the atomic bomb. If they succeed in what they are trying to do, there will be a Fourth Reich in South America at the end of that ten-year period. One that will hold the world up to atomic blackmail to get its way. And we will have to knuckle under to their demands — whatever they may be — or face the possibility of a nuclear holocaust.”

Hank and Leandro Diaz sat in silent horror at the thought, but Josep nodded his head understanding^.

“I believe that you are right. And if you are, it makes it even more imperative that we work together to eliminate this threat. To stop this plan before it is even started. We will take the diamonds from them and we will attempt to take the arms ship as well. Are we agreed upon that?”

He looked around at the silent men who nodded, slowly, one by one.

“Very good. We will then meet here in the morning to listen to details of the arms deal. Then we will strike. Any of them who resist will be killed. I hope that none of you still have any bourgeois qualms on that score…. “

The door opened and Frances came in, swaying as she clutched at the frame.

“Jesus. I’ve been waiting in that damned bar all night. I suppose you forgot little me?”

Hank jumped to his feet and closed the door and reached for her, but she pushed him away.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” he said. “I had to stay

“Forget it,” she said, walking towards the bedroom and leaning against the wall for support. “Found a nice man. Bought me drinks. Nicer than you, my beauty. Had things to talk about other than killing, guns, crap like that.” She opened the bedroom door and looked in. “Jesus! It’s like a goddamn South American YMCA in here! Will somebody throw these bums out and fumigate the bed so I can get some sleep?”

“Your men will stay in this sitting room,” Hank told Josep.

“I would beat her to teach her sense about drinking and speaking to her husband in that manner,” the Tupamaro said.

“Would you kindly mind your own fucking business and get them out of that room, then get yourself out of here until tomorrow? It has been a long day.”