The QE2 Is Missing

“Equally important,” Josep said, “is the revolution. Those agreements that they all signed to let the Nazis take over. Do you realize what political dynamite they are? If we time things carefully they will be the lever that tips these regimes out of office. We must plan it with exact precision. First, rumors will be leaked that Stroessner and Marquez were aboard the QE2, and missing along with everyone else aboard the ship. Enough people in Uruguay and Paraguay know that this is the truth, so not only will the rumor not be stopped, but it will prove to be true. Then, at precisely the moment of most unrest and dissent — we release copies of the agreements. All at once, all over the world, at the same time. Every newspaper and television station will have a copy and the wave of reaction and disgust will spread. The unrest and rioting in our countries will turn to a single force of revolt. Unstoppable. That is when we hit the demoralized and leaderless troops and hit them hard. It will be like Iran all over again. No one will dare defend the discredited governments. The army will very possibly join in the revolt. It will all be over in a day. That is what I plan to do, Diaz, and I suggest you think strongly about doing the same in Paraguay. Think, organize, strike. Liberty is very close at hand.”

“Yes,” Diaz said, “I agree completely. Liberty is at hand and that is certainly worth drinking to.” He filled his glass and raised it. “To the freedom of our countries.” He drank the toast, emptied the glass, then stood. “I have to get up to the bridge now to relieve my man there.”

By agreement, the bag of diamonds had been left on the bridge near the wheel, in clear sight of anyone there. Two people at least were always on duty, one Tupamaro and one Paraguayan. If Josep had any plans to capture the arms ship which was now at sea, he had not mentioned them. The diamonds were the prize to be shared. Two hundred and fifty million dollars worth.

Uzi cared nothing about the stones. His prizes were locked in two cabins below. He went into the kitchen to prepare plates of food for them. With the operation nearly over he cared less and less about South American politics as he became more and more engrossed in plans to get the two Nazis safely out of Mexico. It could be done, but it must be done carefully. He put the plates on a tray and took them to the elevator.

There was little chance of violence from the prisoners, but he took no chances. Putting the tray onto the carpet outside the cabin, he drew his gun before unlocking the door. The cabin was silent and dark, the curtains drawn.

“Come and get your food, Eitmann,” he called out. There was only silence in response. Keeping the gun ready, Uzi carefully reached in and turned on the lights — then jumped back,

There was no need. Karl-Heinz Eitmann was lying on the carpet, gasping for breath. There was blood on his forehead. His own belt was tightened about his neck, with the other end knotted about the lighting fixture — which had been pulled from the wall and was lying next to him. Uzi took it all in and shook his head.

“You are losing your touch, Eitmann. The man who organized all of the slave labor for the Reich should have been able to commit suicide without bungling it.” He nudged the man lightly with his toe. “Off the floor, you look very foolish there. And put that belt back in your trousers where it belongs.”

Uzi brought in the tray of food while Eitmann stumbled to his feet then dropped into the chair, the belt dangling from his hand.

“I'll pay you very well,” he said hoarsely. “I am not without funds, no one would ever know. Please, take the money, let me go. I promise to have nothing to do with the Bruderbund, ever again. It was a mistake ____”

“Your entire life was a mistake. Shut up and eat your food.”

Uzi slammed the door as he left. He took no pleasure in the man’s humiliation, his constant tearful pleadings to be freed, the promises of larger and larger sums of money. He did not seek vengeance upon this pitiful creature. Just to bring him to justice.

Wielgus was a different matter. This was a man who made it very easy to detest him. He had not said a word since he had been captured; the burning hatred in his eyes spoke loudly enough. He ate well and slept well and kept himself prepared for an opportunity to escape. But Uzi was equally prepared and ready to die if he had to before he let that happen. As he was locking the door again, Uzi heard running footsteps and turned to see one of the Tupamaros hurrying towards him, brandishing his gun in the air.

“They are here! We can see them!” he shouted. “The boat has arrived. Come, get your German pigs on deck. I’ll help you herd them.”

There were shouts of jubilation when they came out on the Boat Deck and one of the Tupamaros let off a burst of automatic fire into the sky.

Coming towards them, just over the horizon, was a dingy and ancient Mexican fishing boat. It was the most beautiful sight that they had ever seen.