The QE2 Is Missing

“We have a simple uncomplex plan. We have a deep-sea fishing boat, purchased further down the coast, and it is already at sea. The Captain knows the course of the QE2 after she leaves Acapulco, and will be standing by at approximately one day’s sailing from here. They also have a good radio and are listening for contact or any change of plans. So we simply wait until the diamonds are produced and the exchange is made. When that is done we will know also where the munitions ship is and what details have been arranged for turning it over in exchange for the gems. Then we act. We take the radio room, send out our message where contact will be made, then silence all of the radios. No member of the British crew will be hurt as long as they obey orders. Then we take the Nazis and Stroessner, Marquez and their guards. This time people will be hurt. But I am sure that no one here cares about that. We will have the stones, you, we will have your war criminals, so then we will leave the QE2 in their fastest launch and rendezvous with our ship out of sight. Sink the launch and that is the end of it. We will all have what we want.”

Uzi made up his mind very quickly. “I like it. We will cooperate with you in every way. I will discuss plans with you for a meeting at sea to take the prisoners off your hands. What about the munitions ship?”

“That will depend on the situation at the time. If we cannot arrange to take it for our own use, we can certainly inform Global Traders that they will not be paid. So the deal will be off. Do you agree, Diaz?”

The two revolutionary leaders eyed each other coldly. “Of course,” Diaz said. “My people will leave with yours in the escape ship. We will divide up the diamonds before we separate. Isn’t that right?”

“Of course it is. Then it appears we are all of a mind. Our task is now to sit and wait quietly to see what their next move will be.”

Quietly! Frances thought to herself. She did not know whether to laugh or to cry, but was so shocked that instead she said nothing. It was hard to take in, to believe. That these people sit about the room, sipping at their drinks and nodding seriously, while they discussed piracy and murder and theft. And her Hank just as serious and agreeable as the others.

She knew now why he had been so reluctant to tell her about his involvement with these people in the first place. The real world of spies bore little resemblance to the clean-cut, game-playing and escapist fictional one. These people played dirty and they played for keeps.

“I’ll have a drink, too,” she told Hank. “A strong one, if you don’t mind.”

15

From the bridge of the QE2, a good hundred feet above the water, Captain David Rapley had a clear and unhampered view of the sea ahead, and to port and starboard as well. Off to port, the jungles and mountains of Mexico were slipping away, dimly visible through the tropical showers that were sweeping down upon them. Ahead was the open sea, slate gray and speckled by rain. The arching bow cut cleanly into the surface, sending out a frothing white wave to either side. It was good to be at sea again; Captain Rapley never felt completely comfortable ashore.

“Coffee, sir,” the steward said, setting the silver tray before him. Rapley leaned back in the Captain’s chair and nodded. Poured from a silver pot into a china cup. A far cry from the poisonous brew served in a heavy chipped mug that had passed for a beverage in the Navy. For a moment, as he stirred in a spoonful of sugar and sipped at the hot and delicious liquid, he had a fleeting touch of nostalgia for those days now vanished. Mugs of tea and large gins in the Wardroom and the pleasures of comrades together doing a job that had to be done. A very different existence from this, the air-conditioned comfort of the world’s most luxurious liner. Over sixty-seven thousand tons of ship; one hundred and ten thousand horsepower at his command. A far cry from the five-stack destroyers he had first served in. The hell with nostalgia. They were good days but they were gone. He drank deep of the coffee. Their problems were gone too — and they wouldn’t be missed. Life was a good deal easier now.

The Staff Captain came up and saluted, a large yellow envelope in his hand. Captain Rapiey returned the salute and scowled at the envelope. There were still problems commanding a ship, but they were of a totally different order.

“We’re outside of Mexican territorial waters now,” Staff Captain Flint said.

“I suppose we are — or you wouldn’t be bringing me that damn thing.”

“Temper, Dave, temper. Ours is but to serve, not reason why. Shall I open it?”