The 92nd Tiger

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The 92nd Tiger Page 13

by Michael Gilbert


  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.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Reconnaissance in Force

  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.

  When coffee had been swallowed and the cups returned, refilled, and returned again. Sheik Hammuz inclined politely towards his brother.

  ‘You mentioned a matter of public concern?’

  The Ruler said, speaking slowly and loudly, ‘You will be aware that I have recently made purchases of arms and equipment for our State of Umran. My object was to fit our country to play a proper part in the affairs of the world.’

  ‘The words of an armed man are listened to with greater respect than those of one who is unarmed,’ agreed Sheik Hammuz.

  ‘Some days ago these arms reached Beirut. All arrangements had been made to bring them to Umran by air. Those arrangements have been interfered with.’

  Sheik Hammuz made a deprecatory movement of his hands and elbows, but said nothing.

  ‘The man who interfered with them is living here, under your hospitality and protection. He is the Iraqi, Kassim.’

  A polite murmur of astonishment went up from the well-drilled chorus in the hall.

  Sheik Hammuz said, ‘A man who could do such a thing does not deserve our hospitality. He deserves condign punishment.’

  Heads were nodded in grave approval.

  ‘Since we are in agreement,’ said the Ruler, ‘let the man be handed over to us, and we will ensure that his conduct receives the punishment it deserves.’

  ‘There is a difficulty,’ said Sheik Hammuz. ‘Dr. Kassim is no longer here.’

  A moment of silence.

  ‘Indeed,’ said the Ruler. ‘Then where is he?’

  ‘We must suppose that he became aware that his treachery to the State of Umran was known – or might be discovered – and decided that it would be discreet to remove himself. He left last night, by car, without informing anyone of his intentions. Our guards observed him driving off in the direction of Fujaira, but had, of course, no authority to stop him.’

  The Ruler considered the matter, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Then he said, ‘Has it occurred to you that he might have returned, as secretly as he departed? That he might, even now, be hidden somewhere in this palace?’

  ‘It seems most unlikely.’

  ‘It is, nevertheless, possible. To assist you, I will have my men search every corner of it for you.’

  The ghost of a smile appeared on Sheik Hammuz’s face, lingered for a moment among his billowing chins, and then dispersed.

  ‘That would be very helpful.’

  The Ruler barked out an order to Major Youba, who saluted and said, ‘The order is to search the whole palace.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Including the women’s quarters.’

  The Ruler hesitated, and then said, ‘No. There will be no necessity to search the women’s quarters. After all, Dr. Kassim could scarcely be there.’

  ‘I will ask Raman bin Zafra to accompany Major Youba,’ said Sheik Hammuz. ‘He will be able to point out all possible places of concealment.’

  He waved forward one of the men who had been standing behind his chair. Hugo thought he had never seen a more unpleasant-looking person. Hungry yellowish lidless eyes looked out from a face more grey than brown. Thin lips drew back in a smile from stained teeth, pointed like a dog’s.

  ‘It was Raman’s brother, Abdullah bin Zafra,’ explained Sheik Hammuz, ‘who perpetrated the criminal folly of attacking his Ruler and met a deserved fate. In fact, at your hands, Major, I believe?’

  Major Youba said nothing. His hand was a few inches from his gun.

  The Ruler said, ‘As you wish. Carry out your duty, Major, and report back to me here.’

  ‘Meanwhile,’ said Sheik Hammuz, ‘allow me to offer you further refreshment.’

  This time, it was glasses of orange and lemon squash. Hugo took his thankfully and gulped it down. The sweat was dripping in a steady stream from his face and body.

  It was a very long quarter of an hour before Major Youba returned. He said, ‘The man has gone.’

  ‘And it was wise of him to go,’ said Sheik Hammuz. ‘He knew that I could not tolerate any action hostile to my brother or to our State. The arms of which you spoke were bought for the general good?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘It is your intention to use them to equip a national force, composed of all your loyal subjects?’

  ‘Indeed it is. And it is my intention that you shall help and advise me in their distribution.’

  A faint look of uncertainty crossed Sheik Hammuz’s ample features. Up to that point, thought Hugo, he had been playing a hand along lines of his own devising. For the first time, the initiative had left him. He said, ‘I should, of course, be very glad—’

  ‘I was certain that you would co-operate with me,’ said the Ruler. ‘And with that object, I am inviting you, my dear brother, to return with me now.’

  This is it, thought Hugo.

  His eye photographed the exact position of every person in the crowded room. The armed policemen filling one end, the line of Sheik Hammuz’s retainers along the other three walls. Cowcroft to his left, behind the Ruler; Major Youba beside him; Raman bin Zafra behind Sheik Hammuz. He wondered how many hands were, at that moment, holding weapons under the all-concealing burnouses.

  He had noted a substantial-looking desk to the r
ight of the dais. It had packets of cigarettes on it and a vase of plastic flowers, and stood on a stone step. Hugo calculated that if he threw himself down, very quickly, he could get that desk and step between himself and the storm of bullets which was going to turn the room into a shambles.

  This ignoble thought had scarcely registered in his mind when Sheik Hammuz rose to his feet. He said, ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure, brother. I go with you very willingly.’ He turned to the silent lines of his people and said, ‘May today mark the beginning of a new era in our country. An era of co-operation and friendship.’

  Hugo drove back with Cowcroft.

  ‘Do you think it’ll work?’ he said. ‘It all looked too easy.’

  ‘It was the speed that did it. Hammuz has got the fighting tribes behind him, all right, but it takes time to muster them.’

  ‘And then we can expect trouble?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Carrying off Hammuz was a very shrewd move.’

  ‘They might try to rescue him?’

  ‘If they do, they forfeit his life. They can’t be under any illusions about that. And once he was gone, they wouldn’t have any very obvious candidate for the throne. Did you notice a dark, thin character with a twitch sitting near Hammuz on the right?’

  ‘My mind was on other things just then.’

  ‘He’s Alid. A step-brother of sorts – one of the old Ruler’s sons by an unofficial wife. I don’t see him heading a rescue party.’

  ‘Dr. Kassim might. Do you think he really had gone?’

  ‘If he was anywhere there, he must have been hiding under one of the beds in the women’s quarters. Won’t have done his image much good. Physical courage is out of fashion in England, I believe. It’s still prized in these parts.’

  ‘I’ll confess,’ said Hugo, ‘that if shooting had started I was planning to fill up that hole behind the desk.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have been available,’ said Cowcroft. ‘I’d have got there first.’

  When they arrived at the Palace the Ruler, who was in high good humour, had a word with Hugo. He said, ‘By our morning’s work we have gained ourselves a breathing space. You may now inform your colleague in Beirut that we are agreeable to extending his letter of credit for a further fourteen days. Nawaf will make all necessary arrangements with the Bank.’

 

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