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"We've just taken on the damnedest cargo I've ever seen come on board a cruise liner."
"What did you load?" asked Jones, his curiosity aroused.
Parker sat quite still, shaking his head. "Painting gear. Air compressors, brushes, rollers and fifty drums of what I assumed was paint."
Jones couldn't resist asking, "What color?"
Parker shook his head. "Can't say. The drums were marked in Spanish."
"Nothing odd about that. The company must want them on hand when the Lady Flamborough goes in for a refit."
"That's only the half of it. We transshipped huge rolls of plastic. "
"Plastic?"
"And great sheets of fiberboard," Parker continued. "We must have loaded kilometers of the stuff. We barely squeezed it ugh the loading doors. Mucked around a good three hours just trying to stow it."
Jones stared at his glass through half-open eyes. "What do you suppose the company plans to do with it?"
Parker looked up at Jones with a puzzled frown. "I haven't the foggiest idea."
"The Egyptian and Mexican security agents came on board soon after sunup and proceeded to inspect the ship for hidden explosives and make cursory checks of the crew members' records fo
r any hint of a possible assassin.
Except for a sprinkling of Indians and Pakistanis, the members of the crew were British, and had no quarrel with the governments of either Egypt or Mexico.
Animar's terrorist team all spoke fluent English and acted very cooperative, showing their counterfeit British passports and insurance-security documents when asked, and offering their assistance in the ship's inspection.
President De Lorenzo came on board later in the morning. He was a short man in his early sixties, physically robust, with wind-blown gray hair, mournful dark eyes, and the suffering look of an intellectual condemned to a mental institution.
He was welcomed by Ammar impersonating Captain Collins in an award-winning performance. The ship's orchestra played the Mexican national anthem, and then the Mexican leader and his staff were escorted to their suites on the starboard side of the Lady Flamborough.
In the middle of the afternoon a yacht belonging to a wealthy Egyptian exporter came alongside and President Hasan climbed onto the ship. The Egyptian leader was the complete opposite of his Mexican counterpart. He was younger, just past his fifty-fourth birthday, with thinning, black hair. He stood slim and tall, yet he moved with the halting movements of a man who was ill. His dusky eyes were watery and seemed to stare through a filter of suspicion.
The ceremony was repeated and President Hasan along with his staff were quartered in the suites running the length of the port side.
Over fifty Third World heads of state had arrived in Punta del Este for the economic summit. Some chose to stay in palatial estates owned by their nation's citizens or at the exclusive Cantegril Country Club.
Others preferred the offshore quiet of the cruise ships.
Visiting diplomats and journalists soon crowded the streets and restaurants. Uruguayan officials worried whether they could cope with the sudden mass of important foreigners combined with the routine influx of tourists. The nation's military force and police units did their best to control the situation, but they were soon overwhelmed by the human tidal wave sweeping the streets, and they gave up all attempts at traffic control, concentrating their efforts on guarding the summit meeting leaders.
Ammar stood on the starboard bridge wing and surveyed the teeming city through binoculars. He lowered them for a moment and checked his watch for the fifth time.
His close friend studied him carefully. "Are you counting the minutes until nightfall, Suleiman Aziz?"
"Sunset in forty-three minutes," said Ammar without turning.
"The water is busy," said Ibn, nodding at the fleet of small boats darting around the harbor, their decks crowded with journalists demanding interviews and tourists hoping to spot international celebrities.
"Allow no one to board except Egyptian and Mexican delegates who belong on boarDe Lorenzo and Hasan's staffs."
"And if any wish to go ashore before we leave poll?"
"Permit them to do so," said Ammar. "Ship's routine must appear nominal. The confusion in the city works to our advantage. We won't be missed until it's too late."
"The port authorities are no fools. When our lights fail to come on after dark, they will investigate."
