The QE2 Is Missing

Leandro Diaz sipped at his drink while Rafael talked, the fresh cream leaving a white line on the dark skin of his upper lip which he carefully licked off. He was a handsome man in his middle thirties, taller than most of his countrymen — the heritage of his Spanish ancestors — dark-skinned and strong like his Indian forbears. This strength had permitted him to live through four years of confinement in the despicable National Penitentiary of Tacumba. Four years that had nurtured his hatred for General Alfredo Stroessner and his followers. He wore his straight black hair quite long to cover the scars on his neck; the invisible scars within were hidden behind his set and passive expression. He nodded silently and listened as Rafael talked. When the sailor was finished he remained quiet, thinking for a moment, while Rafael gulped at his drink.

“You saw no one else in the car?” Diaz asked.

“No one in the back with de Laiglesia. A driver, of course, but just a glimpse of a uniform hat.”

“Did the Major carry anything?”

“Yes, of course! I had forgotten until you asked. A leather briefcase, dark brown or black.”

“This is all very interesting,” Diaz said. He took a packet of dark, thin cigars from his pocket and extracted one. Rafael waved them away when they were offered to him. Diaz struck a match, waited until the chemicals had burned away, then carefully lit the cigar. Only then did he speak.

“We have been keeping a close eye on your sadistic Major, who now enjoys the rank of military attache at the Paraguayan embassy here. He is a running dog, nothing but a messenger boy who does their dirty errands for them. Small fry — but small fry are the easiest to watch. He drinks a lot, gambles, goes with Spanish whores in Soho — while he weeps a lot about his mother while they whip him. A dirty piece of work, our Major.”

“I would like to kill him,” Rafael said vehemently.

“So would a lot of other people. But he is of more value to us alive for the time being. Something is happening in Paraguay, something big. We have had reports from Asuncion. There have been couriers coming here and a lot of stirring about. We do not have enough people to watch them all of the time so we missed de Laiglesia’s little motoring journey. Our thanks for pointing it out to us. I have checked and he was seen leaving the embassy around noon. So this is a quick round trip to Southampton. For what reason?”

“To do something that he did not wish to be seen doing in London?” Rafael asked, hesitantly.

“My reasoning exactly. They know they are being watched; they’re not complete fools. So a flying visit to Cunard in Southampton, with a briefcase that can hold papers, money…. “

“Or it could hold tickets.”

“Quite possibly. But whatever it held it was something that they didn’t want us to know about — which means we are now very interested in it. A briefcase with something they are very concerned about in it.”

“And a brochure about a world cruise on the QE2. Is there a connection?”

“I don’t know — but I do know that we are going to find out. Our thanks, Rafael, for your help.”

“I want no thanks — I will do anything to combat these filth, these vermin…. “

Rafael started to cough, deeply and strongly, and Diaz rested his hand on the other man’s arm, lightly. There was little else he could do for him or any of the other victims of the regime. “We have had no more word about your parents,” he said.

Rafael nodded and wiped his hand across his lips. “I know… you would have told me right away if you had.”

“There is still hope—.”

“I doubt it. I have stopped hoping. It does no good. I have no family, I have faced that. I am a stinking dishwasher aboard a filthy tub. Some day, God willing, I will be able to go home again. It is you and your people, Diaz, who will make that possible. Perhaps I will be able to go back to the university. I don’t know. Meanwhile stay alive…. “

“Old friend; do you need some money? Is there anything we can do for you?”

Rafael shook his head in a slow no. “I have nothing to spend money on. I’m all right. Just do what you are doing. Now I will finish this drink and go back to the station. There is a late train I can get so I will be back to the ship tonight. There is less trouble that way.”

They shook hands and Rafael departed in silence. Diaz looked after him as he left and seemed unaware of the man who came in through the side door of the pub and joined him in the booth.

“He has gone out for the evening,” the newcomer said.

“Apparently on the way to his whores again. Victorio is following him.”

“And Victorio has a radio?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then he can warn us in time if the pig is returning to his quarters. We will be looking for a briefcase that could be of immense interest. Come then Luis, I’ll tell you about it on the way.”