Гарри Гаррисон - The QE2 Is Missing

“You’ll never live to raise it,” Aurelia said, and he knew it was the truth. He was barely aware of the elevator doors opening behind him, of Chvosta moving forward and the doors closing again. All he knew was that he was looking at certain death. He slowly drew out the pistol and let it drop from his fingers.

“Very good,” Aurelia said. “Now kick it over here and look after your friend. I would suggest using his belt as a tourniquet on that arm. With a hole that size he could bleed to death rather quickly.”

The gun never wavered as Aurelia climbed slowly to her feet and smoothed her dress back into place with her free hand. Heinrich would cause no trouble now, not with Chvosta safely away. She was still taking no chances, watching closely as he tore the belt from the trousers of the moaning Fritz, then tightened it tightly around the bloodsoaked arm. The wounded man was only half conscious when Heinrich pulled him to his feet and dragged him back down the corridor towards the suite. Aurelia nodded approvingly and looked in both directions; no one in sight. The entire action had taken less than sixty seconds. As soon as the two men were gone she put the gun back into her purse and went quickly to fetch the nearest bucket of sawdust. She dumped this over the blood on the carpet and stirred it about with her foot. Perfect. Just one more case of sea sickness and the vomit covered up. By the time it was cleared away the chances were it would never be recognized for what it was. She knew that the Germans would have their own doctor take care of Fritz; neither party wanted to draw attention to the bloodshed. Humming cheerfully to herself she pressed the button for the elevator.

These Germans were such fools, so prone to flattery. The master race indeed! Had they really convinced themselves that they were honest — but betrayed— men, not mass murderers? They must have, or they would not have believed Chvosta’s lies for an instant. And they thought everyone else was a fool. How did they think Global Traders stayed in business when all of their customers were illegals of some kind? The fat man and the stupid girl. They made a good team. And it was so much more interesting to fire at a real target rather than the sheets of paper in the shooting range at home. Everything was working exactly as planned. There would be a large bonus on this one.

She emerged on the upper deck and, while she walked, dug Chvosta’s duplicate key out from under the gun that filled her purse, staggering as she did so and falling against the wall. The storm showed no signs of easing up at all. Two sailors hurried by with mops and buckets and she had no doubt at all what they were for. One gray-faced passenger passed her and she walked slower until he was out of sight. Only then did she turn the key in the lock on Chvosta’s cabin door and go in. It was dark with the curtains drawn. She made sure that the door was locked behind her — the Nazis were going to be most unhappy about this! Then turned on the lights.

Chvosta made himself free with everyone else’s expensive liquors, but was not a big spender when it came to his own supply. An inferior grade of Polish slivovitz that tasted like rancid furniture polish. She needed a drink, so it would have to do. She put down her purse and sloshed a glass half full, and then picked up the water jug. Empty, of course. Chvosta made a good business partner, but basically he was a pig. Glass in hand, she went towards the bathroom when the door swung open.

A tall, dark-skinned man stepped out and pointed a pistol at her. There were two others behind him.

“Where’s Chvosta?” Josep said. “Speak quickly.”

“Obviously not here,” she said as calmly as she could. She had not expected this reception. Walking slowly, she put the glass back on the tray and reached for her purse.

“Move your hand one centimeter more, Aurelia Hortiguela, and you get a bullet right in the middle of your back. I know your reputation well.”

She let her hand drop carefully to her side. This must be one of the Admiral’s men, with his Uruguayan accent. Which was very puzzling. If he knew about her unusual skills — why hadn’t he told the Germans about her ability as a marksman?

“Now turn around slowly. That’s better. Where’s the fat Czech?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. I’m not his keeper…. “

“Quickly woman, and no lies, because I will hurt you and hurt you very badly. A few minutes ago you started down here with Chvosta and two Germans. You will tell me right now where they are or I will knock your teeth down your throat with his gun barrel. Speak…. “

The telephone rang loudly, then again. Josep looked at it, then waved her forward and ground his gun once more into her flesh.

“Answer it. If you care about your life, be careful what you say.”

She nodded and picked up the phone. “Aurelia Hortiguela…. “ Her eyes widened. “Yes there is — I’ll put him on.” She held out the phone. “Someone asking if there is a man pointing a gun at me. He wants to talk to you.”

Josep grabbed the phone from her and pushed her back with the gun barrel. “Who is this?”

“Uzi. What has happened down there? The two young Germans just came back, one of them has been shot. Where are the diamonds?”

“I don’t know. The girl just came back alone. Wait…”

A key rattled in the door and Josep dropped the phone and reached out and grabbed Aurelia cruelly about the mouth and pulled her tight up against his chest, at the same time grinding the gun hard into her side. The pain was terrible and she did not move or resist as he dragged her to one side, out of direct view of the door. At the same time the men in the bathroom stepped back silently out of sight.

Chvosta came in and only saw Josep and Aurelia when he turned to close the door. His eyes widened.

“Close the door carefully and lock it,” Josep said, twisting Aurelia’s face even more painfully against his chest as he pointed the gun over her shoulder. Chvosta did as he had been directed. Other than the key his hands were empty.

Josep threw Aurelia onto the bed, then tossed her purse to the others as they emerged from the bathroom. “Where is the bag?” he said.

Chvosta looked at Aurelia, who was holding her hand to her blood-stained mouth where Josep had crushed her lips against her teeth. Then he smiled broadly, almost laughed out loud.

“Not here as you can clearly see, Josep, not here at all. I’m surprised to see you here, though I should have realized our Uruguayan friends would have lax security. I am glad that I prepared for all exigencies.”

“The bag with the diamonds — you have exactly ten seconds to tell me.”

“But I am trying to tell you. I was sure these people would attempt to renege on payment so I arranged that as soon as I had the diamonds — and sooner than they had imagined — I would put them in a safe place.”

“What safe place?”

“The ship’s vault, of course. What could be safer than that?”

Josep’s face went white with rage and his hand tightened about the gun, his finger trembling against the trigger.

“Don’t do it,” Chvosta said softly. “The diamonds are in the safe, the receipt for the bag is in my pocket. If you shoot me you gain nothing and perhaps lose the diamonds. Think about that, Josep. You have always killed with a reason in the past. Don’t change that now.”

“Keep both of them covered,” Josep ordered his men, then picked up the phone again. “The Czech is here now — but without the diamonds. He says that they are in the ship’s vault.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second. He’s a shrewd operator. All right, we’ll work this out. Stay there until I call you back. And have Chvosta call the Germans at once before they send a raiding party down there.”