The QE2 Is Missing

The waiter made a fortunate interruption and Hank bent over the menu with deep concentration. After they had ordered, the two women had a heart-to-heart talk about the perfidiousness of men, nodding in complete agreement. Hank was greatly relieved when Wunderbaum returned, pulled out his chair, and dropped heavily into it.

“Young man,” he said, “you got yourself a deal.”

“But… why?” his wife wailed.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“I knew it,” she said, nodding with resignation.

“Later meaning never. Around the world, a trip we’re going to take you said. Some trip. When you’re not kvetching about the food you’re on the phone to New York. Maybe we better go home, if only to cure your heartburn.”

“Mr. Greenstein,” he said, suddenly smiling happily. “I think maybe you saved my life from dying from indigestion and maybe even you saved my business because I know what they do as soon as my back is turned. Have some wine.”

The rest of the luncheon was spent in amiable conversation. Wunderbaum knew Hank’s firm, had even done business with it and had met his father a few times. When they had finished he squinted at his watch and pushed back his chair.

“Come on, Momma, we got some packing to do.”

“A room has been reserved for you at the Wentworth Hotel,” Hank said. “You can stay there a few days if you like, or return to the States whenever you want to. And I’d like to thank you for doing what you are doing. It’s really great.”

“My pleasure. You enjoy the rest of the trip for us. Only watch out for the steak and kidney thing. It’ll kill you.”

Frances said goodbye to the couple, and watched them as they left the restaurant, waving back when they did. Then she sipped her wine, tapped her fingernails on the glass and smiled very sweetly at Hank.

“Now,” she said, “you free-wheeling son of a bitch. You are going to tell me everything, and I mean everything, about whatever the hell is going on around here. The QE2 indeed!”

“Can I tell you about it after we get aboard? We only have a couple of hours to pack and everything…. “

“No! Speak. What was in that letter?”

“Here,” he said resignedly. “Read it for yourself.”

She did, with growing astonishment, slowly from beginning to end — and then once again before she handed it back.

“There are things about you I really don’t know,” she said.

“I’m sorry. But don’t hate me for not telling you before. When I first met you, why, telling you was, of course, out of the question. By the time we decided to get married it was too late. I couldn’t just blurt it out. I mean, you know, sweetest, your husband-to-be is a part-time agent for quasi-legal Jewish organizations. Perhaps, you maybe wouldn’t have thought much of the idea. Or of marriage to someone…. “

“You can’t think very much of me if you believe that.”

“I do think very much of you, that’s the trouble, I love you so much I couldn’t think if possibly losing you. Maybe I was just afraid. Maybe it’s good it came out this way, before we actually marry. In case you might want to change your mind.”

He looked absolutely demolished and Frances’s heart went out to him. “You’re absolutely the most foolish man I know. If anything I want to marry you even more. Perhaps the Captain of the ship will perform the ceremony. Very romantic. Do they still do that sort of thing…? “

“Darling! Listen. And think before you answer. Be sensible and think about the fact that your family might lot look on me as a prime example of a husband as much as you do.”

“I’m marrying you and my family isn’t. My father is in anti-Semitic, anti-American old Tory who will hange his mind the instant he sees his first grandchild.”

“You’re wonderful and I’ll make an honest woman of you yet! But this could be dangerous…. “

“Aboard the QE2 in the middle of a luxury cruise? Don’t be silly.”

“There are some very strange and possibly tough customers aboard.”

“There will also be some pretty strange and tough British sailors and sergeants-at-arms or whatever they call them, if I know my Cunard. They won’t let anything happen. Will you be carrying a gun? What will you be doing?”

“Nothing quite as adventurous or dangerous as that. Just keeping an eye on these people to try to find out what they are up to. If there is going to be any trouble it won’t be my department. I hope.”

“I hope so, too — but I don’t think we need worry. If I remember that little raid on Entebbe, the Israelis can take very good care of themselves indeed. Now pay the bill and let’s go for a cruise.”

9

As always, Leandro Diaz had mixed feelings about Mexico City, possibly because he had been living in London for such a long time. London is a fine city when you have money, perhaps the best in the world, but the Paraguayan refugees were poor and always short of funds. And then there was the English weather, always a burden to someone born in the tropics. Mexico had a far more favorable climate, familiar food — and the pleasure of talking Spanish all the time.