The 92nd Tiger (16 page)

When the Colonel got out of the taxi, and the engine was switched off, he noticed how silent it was. His ears had got attuned to the roar of the city. Here it was so quiet that you could pick up the chirruping of the crickets and the lovesong which a nightingale was composing in a tree by the gate. Far below, Beirut lay spread out at his feet, a chaplet of lights flung around the bay of St. George.

The driver said, ‘Lovely, eh? A fine city, eh?’

‘I’ve seen a heap of cities,’ agreed the Colonel. ‘I don’t know a finer one.’ A practical thought struck him. ‘It won’t be easy to find a taxi up here. Would you wait?’

‘Ten pounds Lebanese,’ said the driver, also coming down to earth.

‘I’ll give you five dollars American. I won’t be more than half an hour.’

‘O.K., O.K.’

The front door was opened by a manservant whose tight fitting white jacket showed off a fine pair of shoulders. He stood looking at the Colonel, who said, ‘I have come about a matter of insurance.’ The man nodded, led the way down the passage, ushered the Colonel into a sitting room and went away. The Colonel sat down and relaxed. He expected to be kept waiting. He would have done the same for anyone who came asking him a favour. Five minutes passed. Then a door at the far end of the room opened and a man came in. The Colonel, who was accustomed to sizing people up, knew that he was in the presence of power and money. Before the man opened his mouth it had spoken from his easy manner, from his English-made clothes and shoes, from his heavy but not flabby face.

The Colonel said, ‘I am unpardonably interrupting your evening, so I will be brief. I require ten thousand pounds, either in local currency or in dollars. I can offer, as security, approximately four hundred thousand pounds’ worth of goods, in a warehouse here in Beirut. The money would be repayable at the end of the month, before the goods leave the country.’

‘First, I should like to know who you are.’

The Colonel handed him his card. The man put it down on the table without looking at it. He said, ‘Your name I know already. I require to know the names of some people who are acquainted with you, in the way of business.’

‘Certainly. But they may not be known to you. Most of them are in Canada or America.’

‘I have friends on both sides of the Atlantic.’

The Colonel started to mention names. At the third one, the man said, ‘Yes, I know him. I will contact him tomorrow. If he gives me a satisfactory report, I will do business with you. But let me explain one point. I do not lend money, I use it to buy goods. I will buy ten per cent of your cargo.’

‘Ten per cent?’

‘If what you tell me is correct, ten per cent should be worth forty thousand pounds. I will buy it for ten thousand pounds.’

‘It’s a hard bargain.’

‘Certainly. But then, I am well aware of the nature of the goods. They are not easily saleable. And you must need the money very badly, or you would not have come to me for it.’

‘I ought to consult my partner. But there is no time, so I accept.’

‘Then we will meet in my lawyer’s office tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock to sign papers. Here is his card. Please allow my chauffeur to drive you back.’

‘It’s very good of you, but I kept the taxi.’

‘I sent it away,’ said the man. ‘My own car is outside. Where can he take you?’

‘I’m at the Ambassador Hotel.’

‘Yes, of course.’

At half-past eleven the following morning the Colonel walked out of the office of one of the leading Beirut notaries with a certified cheque for twenty-five thousand dollars. At a quarter to twelve he entered the main branch of the Arab bank where he changed the cheque into new notes of large denomination. In the course of the next hour he visited half a dozen different banks and changed these into older notes, of smaller amount. Then he telephoned Mr. Sharif from a call box, and made an appointment to see him at six o’clock that evening.

The rendezvous, on this occasion, was the back-room of a café in Martyre Square. Mr. Sharif brought with him a tall, silent man who seemed, from the few words he let drop, to be a senior official in the Customs Service.

At the end of two hours of talk, Mr. Sharif said, ‘It can be done. It will mean sending the stuff off, in a number of loads, to Bahrain. In theory, it will still be subject to the anti-Israeli embargo, but once it is out of this country, and beyond the immediate control of the Minister, there should be little difficulty. It would be sensible to send the small arms and ammunition first, since I understand that it is in respect of them that a certificate of origin will be the most difficult to obtain.’

The Colonel nodded. He said, ‘When can you get the first plane off?’

The tall man said, ‘Not before tomorrow evening. Some repacking may be necessary.’

The Colonel took down a calendar from the wall. Under the date Monday, May 1st he drew a thick line in red.

He said, ‘I will pay half the agreed sum now. The other half provided that the last consignment is out of this country by this date. Can things be guaranteed?’

‘All things are with God,’ said the tall man.

On Wednesday morning a council was held at the Palace. It was clear to everyone present that it was a council of war.

On the Ruler’s right sat his uncle, the venerable Sheik Fayad bin Abdullah al Ferini. Hugo gathered that, should anything happen to the Ruler, Sheik Fayad would be Regent until Prince Hussein was old enough to rule. Hussein sat on his father’s left. Major Youba and other officers of the Palace Guard were there; Cowcroft and two junior captains of police. Hugo imagined that he had been summoned in his capacity as military adviser. If it had been a moment for amusement he would have smiled at the thought of giving advice to people who knew so much more about fighting than he did.

‘It is clear,’ said the Ruler, ‘that this animal Kassim has carried out the threat which he made to Mr. Greest. He has succeeded, through influence in the Lebanon, in preventing the onward passage of my arms from Beirut.’

Hugo said, ‘The Colonel’s last message to me suggested that he might be able to find a way round this obstacle.’

‘You do not understand, Mr. Greest. Possibly a way round will be discovered. I hope so. But that is not the point. This man has dared, first, to declare his intention of opposing me. Now he has carried out his threat. If I tolerate this thing, I am no longer ruler in my own country.’

There was a growl of agreement round the meeting.

‘Such an action, if supported by my brother, amounts to rebellion. Rebellion must be met as soon as it raises its head. It is my intention to order that the person of Dr. Kassim be handed over to our justice. If he is not handed over, he will be taken. By force, if necessary.’

War. How
did
one declare war? Telegrams. Ultimatums. Sir Edward Grey bowing coldly to Prince Lichnowsky. ‘By midnight tomorrow a state of war will exist.’ How long did the preliminaries take?

‘We will start in five minutes’ time,’ said the Ruler. ‘You will travel with us, Mr. Greest. Hussein, you will remain behind at the Palace, with His Excellency, Sheik Fayad.’

Prince Hussein seemed to have something to say about this, but was quelled by a look from his father.

‘You have made the necessary arrangements, Commandant?’

Cowcroft said, ‘Your escort is ready, your Highness. It will consist of twelve truck-loads of police, and eight lorry-loads of your own guard. With a minimum force left behind to keep order in the town this represents the total force immediately available.’

‘Let us hope it is sufficient to effect the arrest of one man,’ said the Ruler with a grave smile.

It took a little more than five minutes to get going, but not a lot more. Two policemen on motorcycles headed the cavalcade, followed by two truck-loads of Palace Guards. Then came the Ruler, in his car of state, a very handsome, pale blue, custom-built Rolls-Royce flying the royal pennant at the fore. Behind him Cowcroft, driving his own Land Rover, with Hugo in the passenger seat, and two policemen behind them. After them a cavalcade of trucks and cars bristling with armed men. Everyone looked cheerful. Hugo wondered whether this was assumed and decided that it was not. His own feelings were mixed.

They drove south and then turned inland. The long road stretched ahead of them, straight and empty. It rose a little as they left the coast behind them, then levelled out. They had driven at a steady pace for about an hour and Hugo was wondering how much further they had to go when, rounding an outcrop of the
djebel,
they were suddenly in another world. It was green. There were trees and bushes, and cultivated fields. The tiny houses which they passed had gardens of a sort.

‘If I was king of this country,’ said Hugo, ‘this is the side I’d live in.’

‘Not a lot in it,’ said Cowcroft. They get a bit of rain in the spring. It soon dries up. I prefer the sun myself. Here’s where we can look for trouble.’

The road dropped sharply, through a cutting in the rock. The embankment on either side was crowned with a fringe of palm trees.

‘See what I mean? Ideal place for an ambush. In fact, I imagine this was the exact spot Dr. Kassim had in mind. Heavy trucks, going up hill. Wait till the first one’s nearly at the top. Blow it up on a landmine. Block the far end with a couple of palms. You’d have the lot in the bag.’

By the time he’d finished, they were clear of the far end of the ravine. Hugo drew a deep breath, and said, ‘Yes, I see
just
what you mean.’

‘The turning ahead there leads up to the Hammuz village and fort. Seems to be some trouble.’

He accelerated past the royal car, waving the driver unceremoniously into the side, stopped just short of the corner, jammed on the brakes, and jumped out.

As they rounded the corner they could see what the trouble was. A barricade had been erected across the side road. It was nothing very elaborate. A tree trunk had been placed across the way, ballasted at each end with rocks. The motorcyclists were removing it. Major Youba was watching this being done.

Cowcroft said, ‘Was it guarded?”

There were two men here.’ The Major grinned. ‘When they saw us, they ran.’

‘In that case,’ said Hugo, proffering his first piece of military advice, ‘the quicker we move the better.’

‘I entirely agree,’ said the Major.

He shouted. The tree was heaved to one side and rolled down the slope. The motorcyclist mounted. The cavalcade roared up the hill.

Any moment now, thought Hugo. What would it be? A landmine, a hail of bullets, a mortar bomb? The uncertainty itself was curiously stimulating. What did it actually feel like to be shot? He had been wounded in play often enough; so often that he had cultivated a standard reaction to it. The slight stagger and trip, the hand clapped to the wound, always in the left shoulder or forearm, the tightening of the jaw muscles, the set of the teeth. You couldn’t stop the Tiger with a bullet through his shoulder.

The palace of Sheik Hammuz was in sight ahead of them. It was almost a replica of the royal palace. There was the same deeply arched double doorway, with the parapet above, the slit-like windows and crenellated battlements.

Both doors were open. The motorcyclists had dismounted, and were standing, one on either side. Cowcroft drove past them into the inner courtyard. He was followed by the royal car, and two of the trucks in close attendance.

When they switched off their engines they could hear the trucks and cars which were following them all grinding to a halt outside. A few words of command, muffled by the intervening walls. A moment of silence.

Then a door at the top of an interior flight of steps was thrown open and Sheik Hammuz appeared. He billowed down, seeming to bounce from step to step, and advanced upon the Ruler, both hands outstretched.

‘My dear brother,’ he said, ‘this is indeed an unexpected honour.’

‘The key word,’ said Cowcroft in Hugo’s ear, ‘is unexpected. I wonder what the old bastard is going to do now?’

The medium machine guns mounted in the two trucks which had entered the courtyard swivelled round casually until they were pointing in the direction of Sheik Hammuz. If he noticed them, he gave no sign.

A file of policemen marched into the courtyard, and started to range themselves round it. Major Youba gestured towards a staircase. Further policemen and guards doubled towards it.

‘Had I known that you were coming,’ said Sheik Hammuz, ‘I would have planned a proper reception. As it is, my poor house is entirely at your command. Entirely.’ He looked out of the corner of his eye at the armed men who had now reached the battlement above the courtyard.

The Ruler bowed abruptly and said, ‘The matter I have come on is urgent public business. We can discuss it out here if you wish.’

‘We should be more comfortable inside.’

‘I think so.’

Sheik Hammuz turned, and stood aside for the Ruler to enter. Major Youba moved close at his heels. Cowcroft said, ‘We’d better go along too. I’ll give the orders to my men. Have you got your gun?’

Hugo nodded. He was very conscious of its weight under his left arm-pit.

‘If any trouble starts, shoot Hammuz first and shoot him quick.’

‘Do you think there’ll be trouble?’

‘Possibly not. I fancy we’ve caught him with his pants down. But keep close to him. The more sure he is he’ll be shot if he starts anything, the less he’ll want to start.’

A short passage inside the door led to a hall-way. There was no evidence of air-conditioning. The fans which were turning overhead did little to lower the temperature. Half a dozen men were already seated there. Others were arriving by ones and twos. They looked, thought Hugo, like the chorus of an amateur operatic society which had been caught on the wrong foot by the unexpected raising of the curtain and was trying to slip unostentatiously into place.

The Ruler and his brother were already seated. A door at the far end of the hall was flung open with a crash. An instinctive reaction sent Hugo’s hand inside his coat and the butt of his gun was in his hand before he realised that the men coming in were only carrying brass pots.