The QE2 Is Missing

The connecting door to the next office opened and a thin, dark-skinned man with black hair and a hawk-like nose came in. He looked very much like an Arab, in fact he spoke such perfect Arabic that he had passed as an Arab many times. The name most people knew him by was Uzi Drezner. There was no reason to suppose that it was any more his real name than the many others he used. Even though he kept the lowest of profiles, made sure that the newspapers did not know of him or publish his photograph, his reputation was nevertheless known in certain circles. He worked very closely with Simon Wiesenthal in Vienna and was reputed to have masterminded the Eichmann kidnapping. His most recent success was in tracking Oberstsurmbannfuehrer Rauff to Punta Arenas in Chile. Rauff, who was responsible for the murder of 100,000 people had been a prime target for years. His presence here, in Hank’s office, was some measure of the importance attached to the photographs.

“What do you think about this fellow Diaz?” Hank asked.

“He’s all right. We know about his group, and have even had some contact with their members about Nazis in Paraguay. That was some years back, but I imagine we can re-open contacts, make investigations. I’m sure he is everything that he says he is — and we’ll take that as read until we learn differently,”

“Then what do we do next?”

“At this point we — meaning my organization — do our best to get more information about the people involved in this affair. That can be time consuming so we must start at once. We have no official status, so we must work through friends in different departments.”

“What do you mean “no official status”? Everyone I have talked to speaks very highly of the work you are doing.”

“That’s it, they speak. But you won’t see anything on paper. Nor will you even hear mentioned the name of the organization.”

Hank chewed his cheek for a moment as he tried to recall everything he had been told. In the end he nodded.

“You’re right, people told me to see Uzi, he would take care of it, his organization knows how to take care of these people. But, yes — no names were ever mentioned.”

“It has to be that way. My group is based in Vienna and we have private sources of funds. We have no legal standing any place in the world, and certainly no official connection with the Israeli government. This is only because everything we do is completely illegal.”

“That’s a very good reason,” Hank said.

“It is. Though I shouldn’t say everything. Our records section exchanges information continually with Aman, since the simple collection of intelligence is not a crime. Aman in turn exchanges information with other governments. It’s what we do with the information that isn’t exactly kosher.”

“And that is…?”

“We find Nazis. We see that they are returned to Europe — or Israel — to stand trial. Many times we must extract them from countries where they have a legal status as citizens. We don’t like doing this. And we only do it when there is absolutely no doubt that the person in question is a war criminal — and usually a convicted war criminal. You might say that we are a means of last resort. When all else has failed we step in. Unofficially and usually quite illegally. To see to the administration of justice that must cross international boundaries.”

“I’m sorry you told me this.”

“I didn’t. You just thought you heard it. You are going to quite legally help in obtaining information about some very wanted war criminals.”

“What do you mean that I am going to help? What more can I do?”

“You can act while we investigate. We cannot wait for more results before we move. There’s not time enough. It’s important to get someone aboard the QE2 at once. Would you like a nice sea voyage,

“Don’t say it! I can’t, not now, my fiancee would kill me if we postponed the wedding again! It’s been hard enough to arrange in any case.”

Uzi raised his hands in surrender and smiled. “Wait — don’t panic. I didn’t say instantly. And you may not have to go. It’s still just a maybe. I’ll let you know as soon as we see about bookings on the QE2. That’s one job. Another that I’m going to start at the same time is a tracer on Major de Laiglesia. He is at the heart of this affair and his whereabouts are surely related to it. Find him and we may find the answer to this mystery.”

7

Major Jose de Laiglesia looked out of the window of the Lear jet and covered a yawn with his fist. The plane tilted up on one wing as it turned, presenting him with a magnificent view of the lush green jungle, set against a starkly beautiful range of mountains in the background. The Major was totally indifferent to the view, was scarcely aware that it was there, and his drowsy thoughts were completely occupied with drink. Rum. Should he have another one? Would it wake him up or put him to sleep? He could not be sure. His deep cogitations were interrupted when the girl in the seat before him turned around to speak.

“That river down there, the wide one, do you know its name?”