The Blockade Runners

by Peter Vollmer

  ‘I have to throw them before we can even think of cash,’ Hiram said with a chuckle. ‘I’ve planned a diversion. I’m constantly under surveillance. Somebody’s always watching,’ he smiled, ‘This should be fun. Get ready to move in about five minutes. Incidentally, your two operatives have already been briefed and know what to expect. During the diversion, you are to leave immediately. Both of you – just get into the car. Your taxi driver is actually one of my men. Be fast about it; he will take you to a new rendezvous.’

  David was aghast. What kind of diversion did this man have in mind? Hopefully, nobody would get hurt, but these were professionals.

  A few minutes later, the two belly dancers vacated the dance floor amid loud applause, signalling the waiters to resume their duties. They emerged from the kitchen through swinging doors carrying large trays of plates and dishes while others balanced laden plates on their arms.

  There was a loud thud and crash. Everyone swung round to look. A waiter had gone sprawling. He landed, plates and all, on a table occupied by two men in dark suits, the ones that Hiram referred to as agents. The piping hot plates had splashed across them. They jumped up and tried to brush the food off with their napkins as they howled in pain. The waiter slid from the table onto the floor with all its crockery and cutlery smashing. It was an awful mess.

  ‘Go.’

  David and Gisela never hesitated. They were out of their seats and made their way to the exit. Their departure went unnoticed given the two men’s plight. The taxi was waiting with its door open and the moment they slid on to the seats, the vehicle was in motion, swinging out of the parking lot with a squeal of tyres.

  ‘Christ, these people are insane,’ David said to Gisela in a loud whisper.

  ‘It was necessary,’ she replied, her voice quite level, showing no emotion.

  ‘Necessary? Dammit! I don’t think we were even being followed. Who says those men were British agents?’

  ‘Who do you think is in the car following us?’ Gisela said.

  David swung his head around. Sure enough, about a hundred yards back a car followed, its headlights stabbing the darkness.

  ‘The lady is right. That car left the restaurant just behind us. There were more than just those two in the restaurant,’ the taxi driver said in strongly accented French. With that, the taxi surged forward as the driver floored the accelerator. It was a large American sedan with soft suspension. The car pitched and swayed as he negotiated the many bends in the road. They were now in the mountains winding their way through throngs of cedars. The other car tenaciously clung to their rear.

  David swung round again to look if the other car was gaining.

  ‘There’s another car,’ he said.

  ‘Probably Hiram or his men,’ the driver replied, concentrating on his driving.

  ‘They’re gaining on us,’ Gisela said.

  The driver swung into another sharp bend with a squeal of tyres, causing them to fishtail.

  ‘I know. Theirs is a Mercedes. It handles these curves a lot better. The suspension is firmer.’

  Again, the tyres squealed.

  ‘Christ! We’ve got to do something!’ David was frantic, looking back and forth from their driver to their pursuers.

  A moment later, the driver dangled his arm over the front seat, in his hand was a SIG 9mm automatic.

  ‘Use this. It should scare them off. C’mon, take it!’

  David hesitated. Gisela leant forward and took the automatic.

  ‘You’re not going to shoot at those agents, are you?’

  ‘Well, if you don’t then I will.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, this is madness.’ He grabbed the automatic from Gisela.

  The Mercedes was right on their tail, its driver attempting to come alongside. David was certain they were about sideswipe them and force them off the road.

  With an oath, he jabbed at the window button. He slipped the safety catch on the SIG and pulled the hammer back. The Mercedes was only yards away. He leant out and took aim. The automatic bucked in his hand. A star-shaped bullet hole appeared in the Mercedes’ windscreen. The car swayed as its driver strove to take evasive action. This spoilt his aim and his second shot went wild. By now the other car had moved up on the Mercedes and David heard two distinct shots over the roar of their engines. The Mercedes veered across the road and collided with the rear of their car, slewing it sideways. The driver battled to regain control as it skidded towards the verge and a deep drainage ditch which had been dug parallel to the road.

  The taxi driver was not going to manœuvre his way out this one. The car was going into the ditch.

  ‘Duck!’

  He pulled her down into the well between the rear and front seats, throwing his body on top of hers.

  The car was still at high speed as the right front tyre clipped the ditch. Its front bumper threw up a shower of gravel and stone which clattered on the windscreen and the side of the car.

  Inertia landed them against the back of the front seat. The car swung broadside and as the wheels dug into the soft ground, it started to upend.

  The car flipped. It hit the ground with a bone-jarring crash. Inside, they were thrown around like rag-dolls. It went over and over until it finally toppled back on its wheels. The lights still shone and a loud hiss emanated from the engine.

  Despite being dazed, David’s first concern was for Gisela.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  He heard her moan. She lied crumbled in the well between the seats.

  ‘I think so,’ she said, groaning again.

  The driver had disappeared. The stress on the car’s body had forced his door open, spilling him.

  David tried opening the rear door and then tried the others. They would not budge. He lifted Gisela carefully. She seemed to be okay.

  ‘Come on, we have to get out of here,’ he said. He helped her over the backrest and then slid her out through the driver’s side door.

  ‘Where the hell are they?’ he said to no one in particular.

  He then saw the car which had followed the Mercedes. It had stopped behind them. The car’s headlights silhouetted its two occupants who now stood in the road, their hands, carrying pistols, by their sides. They looked in the direction they had all been travelling. David turned to see what they were looking at. He winced. He saw the Mercedes bathed in the light from the stationary car. It had left the road and collided head-on with a massive cedar. The impact pressed the engine into the passenger compartment, driving the firewall and dashboard backwards, and pinned the occupants to the back of their seats. He could vaguely see the two men. He realised that they would not have survived. He turned away, a biliousness rising in his throat.

  ‘God Almighty.’

  Gisela had sunk to her haunches with her head in her hands.

  The two men approached.

  ‘Are you all right? You’d better come with us. This place will soon be swarming with gendarmes,’ one said.

  He realised that these men must work for Hiram.

  ‘Who were those men in the Mercedes?’

  ‘They’re English spies,’ one of them replied. He spat on the ground, clearly despising them. ‘We are sure they were after you. Better it happened this way, we would have had to kill them anyway. We couldn’t let them spoil a deal like this,’ he said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. ‘Come. We must hurry.’

  ‘What about our taxi driver?’ David asked.

  ‘He’s dead – broke his neck,’ the other replied.

  ‘And those?’ he asked, pointing at the wrecked Mercedes.

  ‘We leave all. We’ve got to get out of here now! Please come immediately.’

  He knew the man was right. What a shambles, he thought. They could’ve been killed.

  David was forced to clamber back into the car to retrieve the SIG. Hopefully the spent cartridges had ejected in the road during the chase. He found the automatic lying on the floor.

  They continued on the road into the mount
ains. Now that the shock and adrenalin were wearing off, he became aware of the bruises and aches he had sustained. He was cold and shivered. He realised it was shock. His suit was torn and both he and Gisela were covered in dust. He tried to brush himself off.

  ‘You can’t return to your hotel. I’ve arranged to have your belongings collected. This will not arouse any suspicions. Your bill will be paid.’

  David knew that the latest events would galvanise the English into action. With two men dead, although not his fault, he was sure MI6 would extract vengeance. The gloves were off. No more pussyfooting around.

  He laid his head back against the seat, Gisela resting her head on his shoulder. They had been lucky to get away with their lives.

  David’s head swam. Two dead agents. Christ! Nobody was supposed to die. And the taxi-driver …?

  About twenty miles on, the car swung off the asphalt onto a track, its lights tunnelling through the towering cedars.

  They had climbed steadily all the way from the coast, the road winding through the mountains, now much higher, manifested by the light fog that clung to the trees. It was also now much colder.

  Finally, the car swung into a wide clearing dominated by an expansive, low-roofed bungalow with an enormous porch. In the centre was a crystal clear swimming pool, lit from below the waterline. Deck chairs and recliners with large beach umbrellas surrounded the sparkling blue water. The bungalow was modern, all steel and aluminium. The lounge inside was roomy with chrome and plastic furniture scattered. Plate glass windows and sliding glass doors stretched from floor to ceiling, permitting a panoramic view from the pool to the valley below.

  The two henchmen ushered them inside and showed them to separate bathrooms where they could clean up and attend to their bruises and scratches. They had barely returned to the lounge when they heard the sound of a car stopping in the parking area in front of the bungalow. The sound of car doors slamming was followed by footsteps on the patio. Hiram entered with another two men behind. He moved to where Gisela and David were sitting.

  ‘I truly regret was has occurred. But, this is a dangerous game. Buying arms on the black market brings enemies and sometimes death with it. That’s why I employ these men,’ he said with a sweep of an arm indicating those in his employ, ‘It is unfortunate that the two British officials lost their lives. This was not intended – truly, it was an accident. Nevertheless, have no doubt, the British government won’t see it that way.’

  ‘Of course they won’t. For Chrissake, we fired shots at them. Maybe we hit the driver which led to the accident,’ David complained.

  ‘What were they trying to do?’ Her face still reflected the shock of the past hour.

  ‘The British know you are trying to buy weapons and helicopters. It’s impossible to go around buying Oerlikon rapid fire cannons, Aérospatiale helicopters, and the like without people finding out, no matter who you are,’ he replied. ‘Although we don’t know what information the British really have, it certainly looks like they’ve got something on you two. They’re smart. They pay informers big money. They have to. Like the Americans, they have too many enemies. They know they have to stay a step ahead.’ Hiram sighed. ‘Of course, your association with me is old news now. They’re not going to be easy to surprise. Those men, well, they were trying to stop you. That’s all.’

  ‘Stop us from what?’ David asked.

  ‘From paying me, of course. That could be the only reason. After all, I’m known to be an arms dealer who sells to the highest bidder.’

  A well-stocked bar took up one corner of the room. Hiram walked over, taking down a few glasses. He turned to face them.

  ‘A drink?’

  Both David and Gisela settled for a scotch on the rocks.

  Hiram raised his glass in salute.

  ‘You know, your Rhodesian problem is rather unique. You’re actually outlaws, free game if you like. Any action against you sanctioned by a UN Resolution allows for harsher action to be taken against you. That’s why they were prepared to force you off the road. Normally, they would never have tried that. I believe they were prepared to kill you. Best you remember that.’

  ‘What are we to do now? We’re in a foreign country. The local police must be going fucking ape by now.’ David said.

  ‘Well, you need to pay me and soon. I want that money before the British gets it. Next, you need to get out of the country.’

  ‘I realise that.’

  ‘The money, how are you going to get it to me? It has to be in bank notes, especially after what has happened this evening.’

  He had given the money a lot of thought because Hiram insisted it be paid in cash. Firstly, it had to be removed from the bank and then somehow stored without raising suspicion, it also had to be easily portable. Suitcases were definitely not the right thing.

  ‘I’ve an idea. Do you play golf?’

  ‘Yes, in fact, I’m a member of the Golf Club of Lebanon.’

  He had heard about it. It was exclusive. Very.

  ‘Okay. Arrange a game for the day after tomorrow. Phone me and give me a tee time. We’ll meet you there and make payment. You’re going to lose your golf bag and clubs so don’t take your best. Just be ready to inadvertently swap golf bags.’

  Hiram smiled, it dawning on him what David proposed to do.

  ‘Quite clever, I must say. Meanwhile, where do you propose to stay?’

  ‘We’ll assume new identities. These should hold for a day or two. The place is full of tourists. I’m sure the Lebanese police have not yet associated us with the death of the two British operatives, let alone the taxi driver. Rest assured, the British will say nothing to the Lebanese Police.’ David looked questioningly at Hiram as if he wanted him to confirm his thoughts on the matter.

  ‘You’re right. Things don’t happen too fast here.’ Hiram confirmed.

  Silence followed.

  Hiram sighed, slapped his thigh and rose from his chair, evident that he wished to terminate the conversation.

  ‘All right, we’ve removed your belongings from your hotel. Forget about making reservations elsewhere. I’ve booked you into a resort hotel in the mountains. My people will take you there. In addition, I’ve arranged that a car be placed at your disposal, not one traceable to me. Just leave it at the airport when you eventually fly out. My people will take you to the hotel tonight. I’ll stay in touch. Just remember, keep a low profile. The British will be looking for you.’

  The trip to the resort hotel was uneventful. They were both in pain, their limbs aching, displaying a few bruises along with having headaches. As soon as they got into their room, they showered and then took barbiturates.

  Both utterly exhausted, it was with relief they slid under the sheets.

  He pulled her close to him.

  ‘God, had I known where this was going to lead to – spies, guns, car crashes, people killed – I would never have accepted this. It’s fuckin’ crazy and it has only just begun. The fucking bank coerced me into this. I doubt whether the bank’s board even has an inkling of what’s going on. People are trying to kill us while they sleep safely in their beds dreaming up the next scheme to capitalise on somebody else’s misfortune.’

  She snuggled into the hollow of his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure the worst is over. You’ve got to remember that we are really on a war footing. The Brits are out to destroy us. There will be casualties and we could be next.’

  He was not convinced, still overcome with a sense of foreboding.

  CHAPTER 15

  The next day, the promised hired car arrived and they drove to Beirut. David asked the driver to find a lesser-known golf club. There he bought the largest golf bag and a decent set of clubs at the pro shop. It was large and brightly coloured, with a host of zippered compartments on the outside and a manufacturer’s logo emblazoned across it. He then visited a hardware shop and exited with an assortment of tools.

  He slid the ne pas déranger sign over the doorknob. Inside, he removed
the boards that compartmentalised the golf bag and otherwise stripped it of its innards.

  He fashioned a pre-drilled board to fit snugly into the top and glued it into place. Using a hacksaw, he cut the golf clubs about a foot from their club end. These were inserted and glued into the holes. He also clipped a towel, ball cleaner, and a brush to the bag.

  He admired his handiwork and smiled. From any angle, the bag looked ready for a game of golf. As it quite light, being largely empty, and he hoped once the banknotes were added, it would be near the right weight.

  They contacted the manager of the Byblos Bank with the name and number they had been given in Rhodesia. Codes and signatures were exchanged and, eventually, two medium-sized leather suitcases were produced containing the seven million dollars. They were assured that no note exceeded one hundred dollars in value. The most dangerous part of the operation was removing the suitcases from the bank without drawing attention. In the end, they simply decided to walk out, one suitcase at a time. Nobody even gave them a glance.

  Inside a large Mercury station wagon, David proceeded to transfer the money to the golf bag. Fortunately, it was large enough to accommodate all of the bills.

  Back at the hotel, they simply left the golf bag and the suitcases with the porter. He carried them to an ornate luggage trolley in the foyer, which he pushed to the elevator and on to their room. The porter was none the wiser, believing it to be no more than a golf bag. As Gisela said, if only he knew! David smiled. If it could fool the porter, it certainly would fool the British. It looked authentic.

  Two days later, the swap of the golf bags went without a hitch in the parking lot of The Golf Club of Lebanon. Hiram had arrived with a number of golf bags, bringing two of his associates in order to make up a four-ball, adding to the confusion for any interested onlookers. Hiram had his money and it was up to him to ensure that Aérospatiale received payment for the first consignment of helicopters. The balance was to follow later when the next consignment of knockdown helicopters was due for release. Of course, by then, a different method of payment and delivery might have to be found. As for the game itself, well, David was paired with one of Hiram’s friends, who played superbly. Still, they were no match for Hiram and his partner. They played a well-managed game exploiting each other’s strengths, beating him 3-2. David had to part with a hundred dollars as did his partner, this being the bet. Insignificant when compared to the purchase price of the Alouettes, but still a hard pill to swallow. Hiram’s smile just said it all.