“You fool!” Josep shouted, pulling his gun and pushing it close to the Captain’s face. “People are going to be hurt because of this man’s stupidity. Phone him back, instantly. Tell him that your life is in danger if he persists in this action.”
The Captain drew himself up, his expression grim. “I said that he was adamant. There is nothing more that I can do. I suggest you end this business at once. I’ll take that gun.”
“You have it,” Josep said, striking him across the neck with it, leaving a bloody welt. “You people never seem to learn. Get two of your men and come with me — move!”
They moved. There was no doubting the instant menace of the gun in that trembling hand. Shaking with rage, the finger ready on the trigger. He herded them before him to the deck below and into the burned-out suite. The passengers huddled there surged forward, shouting, when they saw the Captain. Josep fired twice into the wall next to them and they fell back screaming.
“You, Captain, and your men. I want you to pick up and carry these three bodies — unless you prefer me to bring your bodies instead. Put a blanket around the burned one so it doesn’t come apart. Now move!”
They did not want to, but they obeyed. The sailor carrying the charred body of de Laiglesia was trembling with horror — but he did as he was told. Captain Rapley staggered when the corpse of Admiral Marquez was draped over his shoulder, but he said nothing. Colonel Hartig, as fat in death as in life, could not be lifted and had to be dragged. Josep took one of the submachine guns and herded the laboring men before him to the lift that descended all of the way to the engine room, urging them on with the gun to the locked engine room door.
“Drop the bodies, here,” he said. “Then remain where you are. You, Captain, go to that phone over there. Call your officer in the engine room. Tell him you are out here with two of your men. Tell him about the bodies. Tell him to open the door and look for himself if he wants to. Assure him I won’t be here, that I’ll be a hundred meters back down the hall. That is the truth. Tell him to look at the bodies. Then I want you to tell him that I will kill you, your two other men here, and every single one of the ship’s company if he does not come out at once and cease this madness. That is the truth. Do you doubt it?”
“No,” the Captain said.
“Good. Tell him not to bother about what he has read about me in the papers. Tell him to open the door and look now at what I can do. I won’t shoot him. I don’t have to. Now do this.”
Josep turned on his heel and stalked back down the corridor and stopped when he reached the end. He leaned against the wall as he watched the Captain pick up the phone. The fools. He was so tired. His eyes were sore; every muscle hurt. He must take some pills to wake up, as soon as this crisis was over. Could they hold out for six hours more? Yes! They had to.
He saw the Captain put the phone down and turn to the door. After a moment it opened hesitantly and the Engineer Officer looked out. He talked to the Captain, then looked at the corpses — then up at Josep where he stood, gun ready. The man’s shoulders slumped and Josep knew that another crisis was past. But how many more would there be?
It held together — barely. With each calamity averted, the whole mad scheme still came closer and closer to disaster.
Passengers were beginning to discover what was going m. Not very many, and they were pushed into the gymnasium with the others and locked away. But each occasion like this demanded a diversion of manpower. If it hadn’t been for the storm, the takeover would never have stood a chance of succeeding. But most passengers stayed in their cabins or did not venture any further than the dining rooms. They were too ill or too uncomfortable to wonder why the cashier’s office was closed, the gymnasium locked, the Captain’s parties cancelled. They just prayed for the storm to stop and went back to bed.
The two ship’s doctors discovered at gunpoint what was going on. One guard was left in the hospital as they operated on the wounded cashier, did what they could to repair Sergeant Pradera’s shattered kneecaps, sewed up the wound in Concepcion’s neck, bandaged Klaus’s hands.
In every part of the ship desperate, exhausted men held ten, twenty times their number at bay with the menace of their guns. Most of the sailors knew what was happening now, but respected their orders to do nothing about it. What had happened in the engine room was common knowledge.
Two hours after he had been left alone, Hank got a message through to Diaz to come to his suite at once. Diaz did so, dropping exhausted onto the couch.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’m tired of watching the baby. This bag of diamonds. My wife is still in the bedroom, getting hungry and letting me know about it, and the poor steward is still locked in the bathroom. What are you going to do about this?”
“I’ll get Josep down here. I don’t dare go near that bag if he isn’t here. I’ll use your phone.”
Busy as he was, the Tupamaro leader made the time when the diamonds were mentioned. He came in and dropped into a chair just as Diaz had. He listened in silence, then nodded when Hank said he wanted no more responsibility of looking after the bag and its precious contents.
“You are right,” Josep said. “It was a temporary expedient.” He took the key from his pocket and bent and unlocked the bag and looked inside.
“You’re very trusting,” Hank told him.
“There is very little trust involved where millions are at stake. They appear not to have been touched. Do you agree, Diaz?”
The Paraguayan shrugged without rising. He was almost too tired to think. Josep was not. His eyes were red with fatigue but his brain did not appear to be affected in any way.
“I have a suggestion,” he said. “We can spare no one to watch this bag. And I trust no one — that is no one person.”
Diaz nodded. “Agreed.”
“We’ll take the bag to the hospital. Your Sergeant Pradera is there, as is Concepcion. We’ll have them both moved into the same room. See that they have guns. Bring the bag and leave it there. With those two looking after it, it will be safer than any vault.”
“Agreed. You are a shrewd man, Josep. And it will be safe for each of us as well, with one person from your party there and one from mine. I agree. The bag will be guarded without sparing anyone for the job.”
“Then let us do it now, get it over with, because it is almost time for our radio contact. The last cable said it would only be a matter of a few hours before the fishing boat would be ready to put to sea.”
“Wait, before you go,” Hank said. “The room toward is still in the toilet. He can’t know that I’m involved.”
“I'll let him out,” Diaz said. “And warn him about the takeover by now. Go in front of me while I hold this gun on you.”
The frightened steward was released — and a thoroughly angry Frances as well. She led Hank off to see that he had a late breakfast, as well as a number of well-chosen words that she had been choosing for the past hours. Josep and Diaz took the bag with its precious contents down to the hospital.
There were protests — but the arrangements were made. The only room big enough for two hospital beds was the consulting room on the port side of Two deck. Under the persuasion of the guns the medical orderlies took out the desk and examination table and moved in the beds. The bag itself was put on top of the shelves of medical books and journals that covered one wall. Concepcion sat on the edge of her bed and watched.