Гарри Гаррисон - The QE2 Is Missing

“It is dangerous,” Klaus protested. “One of the others must go in your place.”

“No. This is my responsibility. Come! Before we lose the advantage of surprise.”

Klaus stood out of sight to one side as Wielgus knocked on the door, again and again. A voice finally asked in Spanish what was going on.

“It is Doctor Wielgus. I must see the General at once.”

“I am afraid that he is asleep…. “

“I don’t care. Open now, immediately.”

After a short hesitation the lock rattled and the door opened a crack. The room was dark beyond. The Army Sergeant from Stroessner’s party looked out at them.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but everyone is asleep. I had specific orders…. “

He stopped as Klaus’s gun appeared over Wielgus’s shoulder, pointing him straight in the face.

“Hands in sight,” Wielgus ordered. “Walk backward. One wrong twitch and you are dead.”

They moved into the room. The lights came on and the armed Germans rushed in after them. Admiral Marquez was staring at them, tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth, his wounded aide unconscious on the floor beside him.

“How very interesting,” Wielgus said, looking about. “Watch this man closely. Guard the door, no one to enter — no matter what the excuse. Come, Klaus, we will look in the other room. I’m sure we will find something just as interesting in there as we did here!”

The roaring of the flame stopped as the engine room rating turned off the acetylene torch.

“That does it,” he said. “As neat a job as if I were trained in the profession. Maybe I ought to take it up as a trade after we make port. Robbing safes can’t be more dangerous than this blinking voyage…. “

“Stand aside,” Josep ordered, pulling the sailor’s shoulder. The heavy steel door of the vault was still glowing red from the torch, but the entire locking mechanism had been cut away.

Diaz was uncomfortable in his rubber mask, but he was not aware of it at this moment. He dug through the sailor’s toolbox and found an oversize screwdriver. “Use this,” he said, handing it to Josep.

Josep pushed it into the opening next to the fractured lock and threw his weight against it. Nothing happened. He did it again just as the ship rolled; the vault door creaked and opened a fraction of an inch. Josep stopped and signalled to the armed Tupamaro by the door.

“Take this sailor to the Captain’s quarters and put him with the others. Remain there with the others on guard.”

Josep waited until the two men had gone and he was alone in the cashier’s office with Diaz — who gratefully stripped off his mask.

“We did not need that sailor as a witness,” Josep said. “Let’s get this open.”

He levered harder with the screwdriver until they could get a grip on the edge of the door with their fingers. They heaved and the heavy steel door moved, wider and wider, until the vault was standing open.

On the burnished metal floor, in front of the rows of locked safe deposit boxes, stood the bag of diamonds.

Diaz bent over and picked it up and placed it on the table. “You have the key taken from the Czech?” he asked. Josep nodded and dug in his pocket. The key turned in the lock and the bag opened.

“An important moment in history,” Diaz said, reaching in and taking out a chamois sack. “This could mean freedom for both our countries.” He shook the diamonds out into the palm of his hand where they sparkled and gleamed. Josep nodded agreement. Diaz put the stones back, then locked the bag again. “You take the bag, I’ll take the key until we can divide these up.”

“Good. Now we will open these boxes and see what other funds the capitalists have supplied us with.”

“No. We will not do that. We are not thieves.”

Josep’s laugh was quick and humorless. “You amuse me, my little bourgeois revolutionary. You hijack the world’s largest ocean liner, kidnap two heads of state, burn open the ship’s safe to steal a fortune in diamonds — and stop short of taking some small change from the parasitical capitalists who squander their stolen money on this voyage. It is preposterous!”

“We have no time to argue, Josep. I do what I must do to obtain my country’s freedom. I will die, if I must, for this freedom. But I will not become a petty thief.”

“Watch your mouth, little man.” Josep was angry, his pistol half drawn. Diaz would not be moved; his hand was on his own gun. Neither man would back down; the tension grew.

They spun about together as the door burst open.

Concepcion was there, wide-eyed and panting for breath. It was the first time that Diaz had ever seen her express any emotion.

“Come… at once,” she gasped. “Something has gone badly wrong. German voices… in the next suite. They must have released the prisoners.”

Josep seized up the diamonds and ran. Diaz stayed behind just long enough to see that the CLOSED sign was in place on the cashier’s office before he slammed and locked the door and hurried after the others.

They were all grouped around the speaker when he reached Hank’s suite, bent close, listening.

Sergeant Pradera’s hands were tied behind his back and he had been thrown to the floor. His face was scratched and bleeding where Admiral Marquez had attacked him with his single hand, hitting and clawing at him before the Germans had dragged him away. Other than this, the Sergeant was not hurt. Though he knew this would not last long. They would want information and knew how to extract it from people. He was aware of this and he knew what was coming. This knowledge did not show on his face, which displayed only stoical calm. His eyes flickered slightly as General Stroessner came raging out of the bedroom, still trailing pieces of the curtain cords that he had been tied with.

“Betrayed,” he shouted. “By my own men! Humiliated. This one will not get away with it, I trusted him____”

He tried to take Klaus’s pistol from him, but the big German held him easily at bay with one hand. Wielgus emerged from the bedroom and walked across the room to stand over the Sergeant. He glared down at him coldly, then became aware of Stroessner’s near hysterical shouting. He turned and struck him across the face with the back of his hand, sending him staggering.

“Be quiet, you Bavarian turd!” he ordered. “I will extract some information and then you may kill the man. Not before. Now go sit down.”

Stroessner was shocked into obeying. He had never been struck before; it was unthinkable. This entire situation was unthinkable. He regretted ever getting involved. He stumbled to the sofa and dropped onto it, scarcely aware of Admiral Marquez sitting next to him. Major de Laiglesia was at the bar and he called out to him hoarsely.

“Gin. Quickly! A large glass.”

“Put him in the chair,” Wielgus ordered. Klaus and Colonel Hartig took Sergeant Pradera under the arms and heaved him up. Wielgus came and stood over him, staring down coldly.

“You will now tell me what I want to know. Josep was seen, so we know that the Tupamaros are involved. Who else? There must be Paraguayan filth like you. How many? What are their plans? How much did they know? Is the Czech involved — and our diamonds? Do you understand, Sergeant? I have many questions. I want answers to them. You are a strong man and you mean to resist me so I will now make you weaker.”

As he talked he drew his pistol and cocked it, then bent forward. He placed the muzzle against the Sergeant’s kneecap and pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot was loud in the enclosed space of the room. Under the impact of the bullet the leg jumped and the kneecap was splintered and destroyed. Despite his efforts at control a hoarse moan escaped from Pradera’s lips, Wielgus smiled.