The QE2 Is Missing

“Please. Leave religion to the priests and old women and tell me just what in hell you are talking about.”

“Mexico, of course. The QE2 is now on its way from Australia to Hawaii. There is nothing we can do in Hawaii, it is too far away and we don’t have enough time. And the Americans would love to have you visit their islands. No, it is the port of call after that that is of the greatest interest to us. Acapulco.”

“Cargata!” Josep said, banging the table so hard in his excitement that the empty beer bottle fell over and crashed to the floor. He sat there, thudding one tight fist slowly and steadily into the palm of his other hand while the waiter cleaned up the mess and brought new beers. As soon as they were alone again he leaned forward and spoke in a low and intense voice.

“We’ve got them. We can do what we want with them. I have my own people in the port there, good, reliable people. There are others already in the country whom I can use.”

“Do you have weapons?”

“Do we! I almost believe in your Providence. We knocked over an Army fort in the mountains just a week ago. We were after explosives — but we hit the jackpot. Grenades, guns, machine-pistols, even a flame-thrower. I have the people and they have the arms and the will. It is up to you now to find out what we can do with them.”

“Leave that part to me. I’ll have another report later today. What we need next is an operational base in Acapulco. Can you arrange that as well?”

“There is a large house just down the coast. Empty now. The watchman is reliable when bribed. I’ll leave today to set it up. Can you follow tomorrow?”

“Yes. As soon as I set up another communication link.”

“Good. Then we should both look forward to an exciting cruise.”

“We should indeed. And to the success of our mutual ventures. We will drink to that. Tequila. Success!”

Diaz drank the toast, yet at the same time could not help but think of another toast, the slogan of the Tupa-maros that they used to roar out at their meetings.

Habra patria para todos, o no habra patria para nadie.

“We will have a homeland for everyone, or we will have a homeland for no one.”

Death and destruction. He had lain down with the lion by choice — because he had no other choice.

Would he be able to rise up again?

10

“Most unhappy to see your uncle leave so suddenly, and only just partway through the cruise,” the bedroom steward said, putting the suitcases into the rack. “But every cloud has a silver lining, doesn’t it, sir? Here you are going on in his place, and I hope that you do enjoy it as well.”

The steward went out into the alleyway again to get the rest of their luggage, then into the bathroom where he turned the light on to see if everything was shipshape, going next to the door to the verandah where he pulled the curtains wide and secured them into place. Hank Greenstein watched the routine closely and marvelled at the efficiency of the shipboard grapevine. It had been Uzi in Sydney who had suggested this course of action.

“You just can’t step aboard a ship like this and go into luxury quarters without some kind of cover story. There will be plenty of interest, plenty of gossip. So give them something to talk about. Here is what I told them when we changed the bookings. Wunderbaum is your uncle. He had been called home suddenly for urgent business reasons — no one who has ever talked to him will doubt that story for a second. Therefore, he has given you the rest of the cruise as a wedding present since, completely by chance, you have been honeymooning in Australia, visiting your wife’s relatives. That’s the basic story, nice and simple, so stick to it.”

Hank had definitely decided to stick to it and was more than thankful for the agent’s foresight. The bedroom steward now straightened the flowers in the vase and checked the carafe to see that it had been filled with ice-water.

“Would you like me to unpack for you, sir?” he asked.

“No, that will be fine.” Hank gave a quick and worried look in the direction of the heavy leather suitcase. “I have no idea where my wife wants her things. Better let her decide.”

“Women always know best, sir, absolutely right. My name is Robert, sir, and that button will get me any time you may need something.”

“Thank you, Robert. That’s good to know.”

As soon as the steward had left, Hank locked the cabin door behind him. And wondered where Frances had got to. They had barely boarded the ship when they had come upon the row of shops, carefully and centrally placed.

“Check us in, darling, or find our cabin or whatever they call it. I’ll join you in half a tick.”

She had vanished before he could lodge a word of protest. He didn’t quite know how long half a tick, or even a whole tick, was, but it was certainly a measure of time in excess of half an hour. He looked at his watch; that’s how long it had been now. No point in waiting any longer.