“Yes,” Diaz said, “I agree completely. Liberty is at hand and that is certainly worth drinking to.” He filled his glass and raised it. “To the freedom of our countries.” He drank the toast, emptied the glass, then stood. “I have to get up to the bridge now to relieve my man there.”
By agreement, the bag of diamonds had been left on the bridge near the wheel, in clear sight of anyone there. Two people at least were always on duty, one Tupamaro and one Paraguayan. If Josep had any plans to capture the arms ship which was now at sea, he had not mentioned them. The diamonds were the prize to be shared. Two hundred and fifty million dollars worth.
Uzi cared nothing about the stones. His prizes were locked in two cabins below. He went into the kitchen to prepare plates of food for them. With the operation nearly over he cared less and less about South American politics as he became more and more engrossed in plans to get the two Nazis safely out of Mexico. It could be done, but it must be done carefully. He put the plates on a tray and took them to the elevator.
There was little chance of violence from the prisoners, but he took no chances. Putting the tray onto the carpet outside the cabin, he drew his gun before unlocking the door. The cabin was silent and dark, the curtains drawn.
“Come and get your food, Eitmann,” he called out. There was only silence in response. Keeping the gun ready, Uzi carefully reached in and turned on the lights — then jumped back,
There was no need. Karl-Heinz Eitmann was lying on the carpet, gasping for breath. There was blood on his forehead. His own belt was tightened about his neck, with the other end knotted about the lighting fixture — which had been pulled from the wall and was lying next to him. Uzi took it all in and shook his head.
“You are losing your touch, Eitmann. The man who organized all of the slave labor for the Reich should have been able to commit suicide without bungling it.” He nudged the man lightly with his toe. “Off the floor, you look very foolish there. And put that belt back in your trousers where it belongs.”
Uzi brought in the tray of food while Eitmann stumbled to his feet then dropped into the chair, the belt dangling from his hand.
“I'll pay you very well,” he said hoarsely. “I am not without funds, no one would ever know. Please, take the money, let me go. I promise to have nothing to do with the Bruderbund, ever again. It was a mistake ____”
“Your entire life was a mistake. Shut up and eat your food.”
Uzi slammed the door as he left. He took no pleasure in the man’s humiliation, his constant tearful pleadings to be freed, the promises of larger and larger sums of money. He did not seek vengeance upon this pitiful creature. Just to bring him to justice.
Wielgus was a different matter. This was a man who made it very easy to detest him. He had not said a word since he had been captured; the burning hatred in his eyes spoke loudly enough. He ate well and slept well and kept himself prepared for an opportunity to escape. But Uzi was equally prepared and ready to die if he had to before he let that happen. As he was locking the door again, Uzi heard running footsteps and turned to see one of the Tupamaros hurrying towards him, brandishing his gun in the air.
“They are here! We can see them!” he shouted. “The boat has arrived. Come, get your German pigs on deck. I’ll help you herd them.”
There were shouts of jubilation when they came out on the Boat Deck and one of the Tupamaros let off a burst of automatic fire into the sky.
Coming towards them, just over the horizon, was a dingy and ancient Mexican fishing boat. It was the most beautiful sight that they had ever seen.
“All right,” Josep said. “Let us make sure that we have done everything that we can. Esteban, what about this ship?”
“Main engines off. There is a stand-by generator that is turning over to supply power. All radios are turned off, but power is being supplied to them. The same with the instruments on the bridge. The last launch, the one we did not let them take to the island, is in the water and tied to the accommodation ladder. “I’ll take care of the ladder as soon as we are all aboard.”
“Good. Then we are ready to go. Phone the two men on the bridge and get them down to the launch with the bag. So far everything has worked perfectly. But let’s get away from here before our luck runs out.” He prodded Wielgus with his gun and herded him towards the elevator.
It all ended that quietly. The handful of Tupamaros and Paraguayans who forced a blubbering General Stroessner before them, Uzi and his Nazi prisoners, all of them went carefully down the steps of the accommodation ladder to the folding platform at the bottom where the launch was tied up. This was one of the two red-painted boats that were normally slung just aft of the bridge. It was designed to be used as an emergency boat at sea, was water-jet propelled and immensely powerful. The engine burbled over quietly as they climbed aboard.
“Pull it around the stern,” Esteban said to the Tupamaro sailor at the helm, untying the lines at the same time. He ran quickly back up the accommodation ladder and seconds later the lifeboat falls began to grind upwards, lifting the ladder back into its stowed position.
The launch moved swiftly with the slightest touch of power, around to the high stern of the liner. They waited there until Esteban appeared on the deck above, waved to them, then climbed to the rail and dived neatly into the sea below. As soon as he was aboard, they started towards the fishing boat that had heaved to and was waiting.
Uzi sat in the stern with the two sullen Germans, and watched disinterestedly as Josep bent and picked up the bag of diamonds and carried them forwards towards the bow, kicking the shivering Stroessner to one side as he went.
“Where are you going with that?” Diaz said, rising to follow. And in that instant everything changed.
All of the Tupamaros were in either the waist or the bow of the launch. Josep turned and his sub-machine gun was in his hands. The other Tupamaros had their weapons raised as well.
It had only taken a few moments. Diaz started to reach for his gun — and stopped. Even Concepcion, smiling coldly, had her gun pointed at him. He let his hand drop.
“Don’t try anything,” he told his two stunned Paraguayan companions. “Keep your hands in sight.”
“Very wise,” Josep said. “That goes for you as well, Uzi. Just stay neutral, this has nothing to do with you.”
“Then I assume it has something to do with me,” Diaz said, forcing the words through his tight-clamped teeth, realizing far too late that he should have expected some treachery from the Tupamaros.
“Perfectly correct. I want your guns. You won’t be harmed. But you might object at the division of these diamonds.”