The QE2 Is Missing

Diaz opened the door to the bridge and called out to him. “I have the hospital on the phone, they want to talk to you.”

Uzi turned and left abruptly. Hank reached out and took the bag from Frances. “I hope he’s right,” Hank said. “If Wielgus and Eitmann are brought to trial all of this might very well be worthwhile.”

“If killing and kidnap are ever worthwhile,” Frances said wearily. Then reached up and kissed him. “Let’s go ashore. I’m looking forward to standing on something that doesn’t move up and down. Just for a change.” Captain Rapley came painfully and hesitantly back to consciousness. Even before he opened his eyes he knew that he was in a small boat because of the choppy motion, the slapping of the waves. His neck and head hurt, his side was painful. Memory was slow in returning — and when it did, he jerked awake and tried to sit up. Gentle hands held him down. He blinked up at the hotel manager, who was sitting next to him.

“It’s all over then?” he said, surprised at the weakness of his own voice. The hotel manager nodded, his face a picture of deep misery.

“We had to abandon the ship. We had no chance.”

“They tricked me. Made me cooperate. Let me think that I would have the ship after they left. When all of the time they intended to get us all off, to hijack it.” A deep, familiar ship’s horn sounded in the distance. “Help me sit up,” he said.

There it was. His ship. The mightiest liner ever built, the QE2. Hundreds of yards away across the sea. Swinging about, her propellors churning up a froth at the stern as the engines picked up speed. Sailing away from him.

“There was no more shooting, thank God,” the hotel j manager said. “All the passengers are ashore, unhurt, f as well as the crew. We’re the last ones. They held us hostage while they searched the ship, kept making announcements that we would be shot if any of the crew tried to remain aboard. They flushed out a few. Beat them up and tossed them in the launch here. The doctor has seen to them. Nothing serious.”

“They’ll be caught,” the Captain said with feeling. “They won’t get away with this. They can’t.” He looked up at the thick clouds already darkening with the approaching night. “These clouds will have to clear away soon. The storm is blowing itself out. They’ll be seen, captured. They are just not going to get away with this.”

The hotel manager did not answer. He just sat and looked at their ship already getting smaller as it picked up speed. Then he shook himself and turned to look towards the bow of the launch, towards the grim island they were approaching. Almost dark, over twenty-five hundred people here. Some of them injured. His responsibility. They would need shelter, food. He would think about that and forget the QE2 now disappearing in a rainstorm far out to sea.

30

“More champagne?” Josep asked. Uzi nodded and held out his glass. “You too, Diaz. Drink up. This is a celebration of sorts, isn’t it? We’re going to win. Against all odds, against everything. We’re going to win. Even the storm is on our side. Those clouds up there are as solid as they were when we left Acapulco. When was that? It seems a million years ago. Three days. Just three days.”

He lolled back in his chair, most of the sirloin steak uneaten on the plate before him. There were greater satisfactions than food and drink, women, anything. The unalterable pleasure of success. They had done it. They had won.

“Success,” he said, and drained his glass. Uzi and Diaz did the same. They were alone in the immense dining room, finishing off the salad they had found in the refrigerator, steaks they had fried. There were dirty dishes and soiled tablecloths all around them. None of the hijackers bothered to clean up after eating. Not with all the freshly laid places at the tables.

“When was the last contact?” Uzi asked.

“About an hour ago. I talked to the Tigre Amarillo. No more troubles since the repairs. They are using a radio direction-finder on our transmitter, homing in on us. If we are on course they should be in sight soon.”

“The course has not been changed,” Diaz said. “Let us hope the Captain gave us the correct one.”

“Esteban checked it,” Josep said. “He has a captain’s ticket. Fishing boats. The theory is the same. He says it was right. All the machinery still running fine. The miracle of modern computerization. If anything should go wrong we couldn’t fix it. But as long as the engines are running, the bridge instruments working, why we just sail along merrily. Esteban and the other two are keeping a watch on the engines. That is what really counts.”

“I found another note,” Uzi said. “Hidden behind the radios.”

“We should have them all now. At least all of the ones that can be easily discovered,” Diaz said, pushing his plate away. “When they find this ship there should be no clues, no clues at all as to what happened. We are all agreed on that. We want to be in port and off the fishing boat before they think of looking for us.”