The QE2 Is Missing

“All right,” Josep said. “Let us make sure that we have done everything that we can. Esteban, what about this ship?”

“Main engines off. There is a stand-by generator that is turning over to supply power. All radios are turned off, but power is being supplied to them. The same with the instruments on the bridge. The last launch, the one we did not let them take to the island, is in the water and tied to the accommodation ladder. “I’ll take care of the ladder as soon as we are all aboard.”

“Good. Then we are ready to go. Phone the two men on the bridge and get them down to the launch with the bag. So far everything has worked perfectly. But let’s get away from here before our luck runs out.” He prodded Wielgus with his gun and herded him towards the elevator.

It all ended that quietly. The handful of Tupamaros and Paraguayans who forced a blubbering General Stroessner before them, Uzi and his Nazi prisoners, all of them went carefully down the steps of the accommodation ladder to the folding platform at the bottom where the launch was tied up. This was one of the two red-painted boats that were normally slung just aft of the bridge. It was designed to be used as an emergency boat at sea, was water-jet propelled and immensely powerful. The engine burbled over quietly as they climbed aboard.

“Pull it around the stern,” Esteban said to the Tupamaro sailor at the helm, untying the lines at the same time. He ran quickly back up the accommodation ladder and seconds later the lifeboat falls began to grind upwards, lifting the ladder back into its stowed position.

The launch moved swiftly with the slightest touch of power, around to the high stern of the liner. They waited there until Esteban appeared on the deck above, waved to them, then climbed to the rail and dived neatly into the sea below. As soon as he was aboard, they started towards the fishing boat that had heaved to and was waiting.

Uzi sat in the stern with the two sullen Germans, and watched disinterestedly as Josep bent and picked up the bag of diamonds and carried them forwards towards the bow, kicking the shivering Stroessner to one side as he went.

“Where are you going with that?” Diaz said, rising to follow. And in that instant everything changed.

All of the Tupamaros were in either the waist or the bow of the launch. Josep turned and his sub-machine gun was in his hands. The other Tupamaros had their weapons raised as well.

It had only taken a few moments. Diaz started to reach for his gun — and stopped. Even Concepcion, smiling coldly, had her gun pointed at him. He let his hand drop.

“Don’t try anything,” he told his two stunned Paraguayan companions. “Keep your hands in sight.”

“Very wise,” Josep said. “That goes for you as well, Uzi. Just stay neutral, this has nothing to do with you.”

“Then I assume it has something to do with me,” Diaz said, forcing the words through his tight-clamped teeth, realizing far too late that he should have expected some treachery from the Tupamaros.

“Perfectly correct. I want your guns. You won’t be harmed. But you might object at the division of these diamonds.”

“We share them fifty-fifty,” Diaz said.

“That was the original agreement. However, since then we have taken certain losses and have made expensive arrangements. I am changing the split slightly. We are taking it all!”

Josep smiled when he said this and the Tupamaros burst out laughing, thinking this tremendously funny. Uzi was not laughing.

“I thought you were a man of honor, Josep…. “

“Watch your mouth!” Josep said, angrily, raising his gun. “I do what must be done. Be happy that you are alive and have that grunting pig, Stroessner, as a hostage. Feel sorry for us, we lost our Admiral Marquez. The extra diamonds will make up for that loss.”

Diaz nodded. “I agree. You have had losses, you have had even higher expenses. Two thirds, one third, I will agree to that split.”

“I don’t care what you agree or what you want. But I shall be generous even though I do not have to be. I will spare you one of these bags of diamonds. A nice big one. That is if my revolutionary comrades agree?”

The Tupamaros laughed and waved, enjoying the joke. Josep dug the key from his pocket and unlocked the bag, throwing it open. And stopped, staring, paralyzed.

Then he grabbed it up and turned it over, dumping it out.

A rain of books and magazines fell to the deck.

They stood, all of them, unmoving at the sight, until Wielgus’s laughter cut through the silence. The nearest Paraguayan cuffed him until he was silent as well. Josep bent and picked up one of the books.

“Dorland’s Medical Encyclopaedia/’ he read. “Medical books, all of them, and doctors’ magazines.” He spun about and pointed to Concepcion. “You did it. You. Nobody else could. Alone in that room with the Sergeant. All the medical books were there. No one else could have gotten near this bag.”

“No!” she screamed. “I swear! I know nothing. How could I?”