The Levanter Part 24

Perhaps, for once, words failed him. With his 'Bon voyage, Mr Howell' when I left he washed his hands of me.

On the evening of July the first I reported to Ghaled at the battery works. It was the last occasion on which I was to do so.

That was when I heard about the 'mishap'.

Issa and Taleb were both with Ghaled when I arrived and some sort of emergency meeting seemed to be in progress.

'But if we worked through the night, comrade Salah,' Issa was saying, 'we could make good part of the loss at least and begin delivery tomorrow. With Taleb to help me I can. . . .'

'No!' Ghaled cut him short decisively. 'You must learn this, comrade Issa. When we plan we make provision for things going wrong, for misfortunes and mistakes. That is what planning is for. So that when a set-back occurs we can accept and absorb it. It is when hasty improvisations are made that trouble starts. Unacceptable risks are taken and a small misfortune is allowed to become the cause of major disaster.'

'But comrade Salah. . . .'

'No more argument. You can make your replacements for future use, but there will be no last-minute foolishness on this operation. That is all, comrades.'

They left. I got a weak smile from Taleb but Issa ignored me. He looked very tired and close to tears.

Ghaled motioned me to sit down.

'A minor mishap,' he explained to me. Two days ago, we have just heard, a hundred detonators were lost on the other side. Because he was the one who made them, poor comrade Issa is naturally upset. What he forgets is that we made five hundred, and not merely three hundred, so that we could well afford to lose some. It is a pity, but I am not prepared to risk valuable couriers to send in replacements which would probably arrive too late for current use and are, in any case, not needed.'

'The need being governed by the number of flight bags available and the manpower to distribute them?'

I was really interested. If more detonators were not needed, that, as far as I was then concerned, seemed to be that. I could not know that what I had just heard in that room had been the sealing of my own fate.

'Exactly, comrade Michael. You are always quick to take a point. Meanwhile I have good news for you. The schooner engine has been tested and is now in excellent running order.'

'I am glad, comrade Salah. My own news is also favourable.

Embarkation is still fixed for tomorrow at four in the afternoon. By then most of the cargo handling should have been completed. We sail early the following morning. There should be no difficulty after that in keeping to the timetable.'

'The Tunisian is giving no trouble?'

'I will be at his elbow to see that he does as he is told. The arrangements for embarkation are typed on this paper.' I handed it to him. 'The agents are Mourad and Company. We a.s.semble at four in their office in the Rue du Port. The ship is lying at the East Quay by number seven warehouse. The agents will take us to the ship and attend to the formalities."

'That is satisfactory.'

'There remains the question of transport to Latakia, comrade Salah, for you and your'-I fumbled slightly-'for you and the other comrades.'

'The front-fighters are already in our Latakia safe-house waiting. I myself will join them there later tonight.'

'You have transport arranged?'

'Everything is now arranged. All you have to do now, comrade Michael, is to report to me yourself tomorrow at this Mourad office.'

'Very well, comrade Salah. If I may offer a suggestion?'

'Go on.'

'Neither Captain Touzani nor the Mourad office is aware of your ident.i.ty."

'What of it?"

'In that office and on board the ship we shall be among strangers. The use of a more discreet form of address might be advisable.'

'Discreet?'

'Mr Ya.s.sin would excite no curiosity. Comrade Salah might.'

'What are the ship's crew? Arabs?"

'Mostly Greek Cypriots, but they speak a little coast Arabic, enough to understand.'

'Very well. From tomorrow we shall play at being civilians again. I will give the necessary orders.'

I stood up to go.

'One more task, comrade Michael.'

'Certainly.'

'Bring a bottle of brandy with you. No, wait! Bring two bottles.'

'With pleasure, comrade Salah.'

'We must be able to celebrate our victory.'

I won't pretend that I did not sleep that night; but I had to take pills to make sure of doing so. If I had had any tranquillisers I would have taken those too. I felt as if I were at school again with the threat of a beating hanging over me; no worse than that, true, but at my age it was a peculiar feeling to have.

In the morning I worked for a time with the clerk and then packed a two-night bag. That, I thought, would do me until I got to Alex - if I got to Alex. What might happen after that did not just then interest me.

I had borrowed a driver from the tile factory transport pool, who would return my car to the villa, and reached Mourad's office in Latakia at three thirty. Mr Mourad was out and I found the task of dealing with the Amalia's pa.s.sengers had been delegated to his a.s.sistant. The old man clearly wanted nothing to do with us.

Ghaled arrived punctually at four. He came, sitting beside the driver, in an ancient Citroen van with the Serinette in its carrying case resting on his knees. He would let no one else touch it when he got out. He was wearing his white shirt and the tie.

The 'front-fighters' were unimpressive. The senior of the trio, the one to whom Ghaled gave his orders, was, according to the pa.s.senger list, Aziz Faysal. He wore a crumpled suit, brown with black stripes, and a blue kaffiyeh. The others, Hanna and Amgad, wore kaffiyehs too, but had no suits, only khaki work trousers and grubby singlets. All three were youngish men with something oddly similar about their faces and physique. I knew from the names that they couldn't be brothers, and it took me a minute or two to identify the common factor. Consciously, or more probably unconsciously, Ghaled had chosen for his personal bodyguard younger men of his own physical type, earlier versions of himself.

In addition to the Serinette there were four pieces of baggage in the van. One of them, an old leather suitcase, belonged to Ghaled. Aziz carried that, along with a canvas hold-all of his own. I knew that there must be arms and ammunition as well as clothing in the bags, and wondered if the customs people had been squared.

They had. Mourad's a.s.sistant took us in the office panel truck to the ship and we weren't stopped once. There was no customs examination. We were not even asked to show our papers.

The Amalia Howell was built in a Dutch yard in the late thirties. We bought her in 1959 and since then she has had two complete refits. Still, she does look her age. When we got out of the truck on the quayside and Ghaled saw her for the first time, he stopped short and put down the Serinette.

'That is the ship?'

'Yes, Mr Ya.s.sin.'

'But it is old and filthy. The paint is coming off. It cannot be seaworthy.'

'She is perfectly seaworthy and the crew have been chipping off the old paint. You can't judge by outward appearances, Mr Ya.s.sin.'

'You said that the Amalia looked like that model in your off 'She does.'

'Not to me.'

'Models don't go to sea,' I said shortly and walked away. He followed after a moment.

Mourad's a.s.sistant was waiting at the gangplank. I told him that he would not be needed any more and led the way on board.

They were still working cargo on the after well-deck but the First Mate, Patsalides, had been warned of our arrival and came forward to receive us, or rather to greet me. He merely glanced at the rest.

'The Captain asks that you take your party to the saloon, Mr Howell. The baggage can be left here for the time being.'

Although he could speak some Arabic he used Greek now. I translated to Ghaled.

'We will keep our baggage with us,' he announced firmly.

I could have done without that. Patsalides understood, of course, and his mouth tightened; but he glanced at me for guidance instead of responding as he would have liked to.

'That's all right, Mr Patsalides,' I said hastily. 'I can see you're busy. I know the way.'

The saloon was immediately below the bridge and at the end of the alleyway serving the officers' cabins. It wasn't much of a place, I admit; just functional. On the side was the table where the officers took their meals, on the other were some scruffy armchairs and a recently re-covered leatherette sofa. There was a door to the galley and a second door opened on to a narrow strip of covered deck. From there an iron companionway led up to the bridge. Inside, the smells of cooking oil and stale cigarette b.u.t.ts mingled with that of the new leatherette.

Ghaled looked about him as if he had been used to better things.

'A little different from the Howell villa,' he observed. 'I see you don't believe in pampering your officers.'

The comment irritated me. 'They don't have to be pampered, Mr Ya.s.sin.'

I didn't wait to see how he took the suggestion that front-fighters did have to be pampered; I went in search of the Captain. I found him on the starboard wing of the bridge looking down at the quay.

'In the saloon?' he asked.

'Yes.'

'Which is Mr Ya.s.sin?'

'The one in the white shirt. How much have you told Mr Patsalides, Captain?'

'That they are fedayin and that we are to be cautious in dealing with them for the present. I could scarcely tell him less.'

'No. I am interested in their baggage, Captain. Not that strange-looking case with Ya.s.sin, I know what's in that, but their other baggage. I'd like to know what arms they have with them.'

'So would I, Mr Howell.'

'Do you think Patsalides could organise a discreet search? Perhaps while we are at the evening meal?'

'I think so. I have arranged for a cabin for Ya.s.sin, as you asked. The other three will be in the special compartment aft.'

There had been a time, before it became strictly illegal, when the Agence Howell had done a little business, mainly with American dealers acting for museums, in newly-excavated Graeco-Roman antiquities. The dealers said what they wanted; we had it shipped out of the area in which it had been found. Hence the special compartments.

'I had forgotten you had one.'

'We still find uses for it occasionally.' His expression was bland. 'They will not be too uncomfortable. They can sleep on pallia.s.ses.'

'What kind of door is there on the compartment?'

'It has a clip that is very difficult to move, unless you know how, and can also be padlocked. Perhaps I should now go below and introduce myself.'

I had not been wrong in choosing Captain Touzani. It was almost a pleasure to introduce him to Ghaled.

'Mr Salah Ya.s.sin, Captain Touzani.'

They nodded, eyeing one another; two very different Arabs.

'And Mr Aziz Faysal.'

More nods. I didn't bother with the other two.

Captain Touzani smiled expansively. 'Gentlemen, you are all most welcome aboard this ship. Mr Howell will have told you that we do not normally carry pa.s.sengers, so the accommodation I can offer you is limited. However, the second officer has offered to share another cabin until we reach Alexandria. His berth is therefore available to Mr Ya.s.sin. Mr Howell as owner will naturally berth with me. The other gentlemen will be accommodated aft.' He pressed a bell-push. 'The steward, Kyprianou, will show you where to go. Meals will be taken here. There will be separate sittings for pa.s.sengers at times of which you will be told I must ask you to observe certain rules. The bridge is strictly out of bounds to pa.s.sengers at all times. You may walk anywhere on the main deck, that is the one below this.'

The steward, a dirty little man in a clean white jacket, had come through the galley door in answer to the bell.

The Captain pointed Ghaled out to him. This is Mr Ya.s.sin, Kyprianou,' he said in Greek. 'Show him and his companions to their quarters.'

Ghaled was glaring at the Captain. Clearly he hadn't liked being told what he could and could not do, but he wasn't quite sure how to go about registering his displeasure.

Touzani looked him straight in the eye. 'The weather forecasts are good, Mr Ya.s.sin. I see no reason why we should not have a smooth and pleasant journey.'

Then he turned and went back up to the bridge.

We sailed shortly after dawn.

I had dozed fitfully on a couch in Captain Touzani's office cabin. The results of the baggage search the previous evening had not been rea.s.suring.

The front fighters each had machine pistols. Ghaled had in his case, in addition to a new black suit, a Stechkin automatic in a webbing holster and a small transistor walkie-talkie set.

It was this set that worried me. When Patsalides told me about it I immediately asked if he didn't mean a pair of walkie-talkie sets. That's what I hoped he had meant; but he shook his head.

'No, Mr Howell, just one.'

When he had left us Touzani looked at me curiously. 'Why should you mind about this set? If he has one that only means that someone on the boat coming from the sh.o.r.e has the other.'

'Yes.'

'What difference does it make? You can't use those things as direction finders, at least not effectively. A boat from the sh.o.r.e would be looking for our lights.'

I didn't tell him what I was worrying about was not a boat from the sh.o.r.e, but Hadaya from the sea. It looked as if Ghaled intended to control and coordinate the whole operation from the Amalia.