The QE2 Is Missing

“The insulting bastards!” Aurelia said, throwing her notebook onto the table among the weapons of destruction. Chvosta was smiling coldly at the retreating backs of the military.

“I cannot be insulted,” he said. “Only paid. And they need this shipment. You take things too personally.”

Only one man remained behind: Major de Laiglesia.

“I have been involved in all of the negotiations needed to make the exchange,” he said. “Let me explain — but not here. I have been three days without sleep arranging your visit and the shipping of the crates. Let us find a place to sit down and have some drinks and I will tell you what has been done.”

“Have some food there, too,” Chvosta said. “But I will need to know at once. This is a very costly business and if it is protracted any longer the price will have to go up.”

“Please, Mr. Chvosta, don’t be concerned. I have all the details with me. And you might even enjoy part of it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously.

“I mean you are going to enjoy a luxury cruise on the QE2. Now, if you will come this way.”

Sergeant Pradera looked on disgustedly as the guard outside the Presidential Palace was changed. These were a slovenly, disorganized rabble. And these were the elite guard! Boots that needed polishing, undressed lines — and haircuts all around would be a good idea too. For the officers as well, since they were as big a shower as the men.

Tall, rock solid, dark skinned and grizzle haired, the Sergeant stood just inside the gates and scowled with obvious venom at the troops as they marched by. One week, that’s all he would need to get them in hand. One week that they would never forget if they lived to be a hundred. These men were a disgrace to the army. His glare burned into them as they passed and even the officers kept their eyes strictly to the front so that they would not intercept that deadly gaze. Everyone in the army knew Sergeant Pradera. Not one of them was happy in his presence.

The Sergeant was old Army. He must be older than some of the Generals but no one dared ask him his age or check on it in the records. The Sergeant would be in the Army until the day he died. If he ever did. Stories were told about that as well. Most soldiers breathed easier these days since he had been kicked upstairs. Now he was involved with security at the Palace and only those soldiers under his direct command could feel the touch of his wrath. He had organized the convoy from the airport that morning — no matter what officer claimed credit for it. In the Paraguayan Army there were three ways of getting things done; the right way, the wrong way — and Sergeant Pradera’s way.

The Sergeant waited until the Guard had been changed, his cold gaze following them every step of the way, until the guardhouse door had slammed and they were safely out of his sight. The new Guard straightened their backs more fiercely as they stood at attention at their posts and prayed to the Virgin and St. Tomaso, Patron Saint of Paraguay, that his basilisk eye would not fall upon them. All those in sight of the square breathed more easily when he had stamped by and let himself into the storehouse on the west side.

Sergeant Pradera climbed the stairs as he did everything else — with grim certainty and heavy tread. If anyone else had been in the building they would have fled at the sound of his advance. But he was alone here, he knew that. He should know it, since he was the one who arranged the work rosters and saw to it that very few people had business in this building, and then only when he was present. Many important Army files were stored here. Security was important. Very important.

The Sergeant was a firm believer in security at all times, belt and braces, read the orders back so often that they were memorized. No one should have been on this floor since the Sergeant had last visited it the night before. A thin black thread across the staircase at ankle level, invisible in the badly lit stairwell, was still intact. So were two others he had placed in equally strategic positions. The Sergeant had expected nothing less; he still took the precaution. He stamped to the end of the hall, to the last door, and unlocked it. Opened all four of the locks that had been set into the frame, on both sides and top and bottom. Belt and suspenders. He locked them all behind him and went on into the next room that faced out onto the Palace Square. A good deal of electronic equipment was set up against the far wall. He looked at it and nodded stern approval.