The Accidental Spy

by Jacqueline George

  Abdul was full of news. “The television says that Israeli terrorists are inside Sabah but the Army will find them. Today there will be soldiers all around the town … you will have trouble to go to the rig, I think. And TAMCO is closed for the funerals.”

  “Funerals?”

  “Yes, one man was dead inside TAMCO and another one died in the mosque. He had a heart problem, I think. So TAMCO is closed.”

  “So - the television thinks it was the Israelis and not the Americans. I’m surprised they didn’t decide it was both.”

  “But they did! They say the American Number 6 Fleet brought the terrorists to Sabah in the night and then Jewish terrorists from Egypt took them in taxis to attack the ammunition store. It’s true, I know it. My brother was in the souk the night before and he was in one shop and look what happens. He is inside the shop when one man comes. Every one is saying ‘Salaam, salaam’ but the man says by surprise ‘shalom’, like the Israelis say. Then he ran away. I know the Israelis are in Sabah all the time.”

  Hmmm – maybe, thought The Virgin, knowing better than to argue. “But the Army is going to surround Sabah? Perhaps you’d better come with me to the rig. You can talk our way through. Have you got time for that?”

  With Abdul beside him, The Virgin pushed his way into the traffic stream and steered onto the wide processional way that ran in front of the People’s Hotel.

  “There’s soldiers everywhere, Abdul. I didn’t realize the Great Man had so many around here. But has he got enough to surround the town?”

  “He is sending them from Almadi. They are coming to the airport this morning. There will be enough, you will see. Tabriz is very strong in its soldiers.”

  “They look very dangerous to me,” said The Virgin diplomatically.

  “Oh yes – very dangerous. If we find the Israelis they will have no chance.”

  From somewhere ahead of them came a burst of firing. The Virgin looked behind him and started to pull over, but the rest of the traffic stream continued as normal. “I think no problem,” said Abdul.

  “Sounded like a problem to me,” but none of the other cars seemed to pay any attention. He drove on. Beside the road sat an APC, with its crew sheltering behind it. The turret-mounted machinegun on the APC was firing short bursts into a neighbouring apartment block. The smoke drifted across the road.

  “Jesus! Let’s get out of here!” He steered wide, avoiding the cars slowing down to watch the fun. “What the hell are they doing? A gun like that can fire straight through a building. God knows what damage they’re doing on the other side.”

  “Perhaps they find the Israelis…” but even Abdul could not sound hopeful.

  They crossed the Army line at the edge of town. A new road block had been set up and The Virgin handed his papers to Abdul. Uniformed police were checking papers and staring into the cars, but today soldiers were standing behind them. As the car crept forward he could see a single line of soldiers stretching out across the rough ground on either side of the road. One man every ten metres, just standing there with his Kalashnikov, looking very bored. The Great Man had surrounded the town, just as he had promised. The check on car and papers was cursory, as if everyone knew the whole exercise was a waste of time. Israelis were known to be too clever to be caught.

  On the rig, all Terry could talk about was the explosion. How it had been felt on the rig, how he had climbed the mast to get a better look at the distant cloud. He guessed it had happened somewhere near the airport. That squared with what The Virgin had seen as well, but he was not going anywhere near it. He was sure the Tabrizis would be far too sensitive for the next week or so. Terry had been listening to the BBC who confirmed an ammunition dump explosion, and that many people were believed to have been killed. The Tabrizi government had admitted to nothing so far. Then Terry remembered he had a message for The Virgin; two truckloads of cement were waiting at the road block on the other side of town. Someone would have to go and assure the police that they were not a threat to national security and could be allowed through. That was a job for Abdul and The Virgin drove him back into town to pick up his car.

  After he closed the office that afternoon The Virgin drove to Barani to see what news Danka had from the hospital. She came to the door in her night dress, bleary eyed and tousle haired. “Boże, Virgin, you wake me up. Never mind. I make coffee. And lunch. But quiet please – Wanda is sleeping.”

  The Virgin settled in the tiny kitchen and watched Danka making sandwiches while the kettle boiled. Under her boring nightdress she wobbled delightfully as she sawed at the bread. “So – what’s happening at the hospital? The explosion must have been quite near to you.”

  “True, Virgin, very true. Was like the war. Explosions, broken windows. And all the time the floor is shaking. We are all hiding on the floor - doctors, patients, nurses, all crying. There is no electricity now. No lights, no hot water.” She settled her fat bottom onto the stool on the other side of the table and sipped her coffee. “Virgin, I tell you, I never have fear like this before. I am shaking all over. And then the people start coming. So many people. I think the houses fall down, so people have many broken bones, skull fracture, internal injury. Some burns. Terrible. We want blood too much but the blood bank is empty. Everyone must give blood and use immediately. No testing – very dangerous but what can you do? I work all night – come back for breakfast. We all work all night.”

  Wanda appeared in the doorway, also in her nightdress, and The Virgin moved his stool along to let her squeeze in. She shared his plate. She was feeling depressed. “I go back to Poland, Virgin. I have enough. This place is crazy. And dangerous. Very bad. And for what do we stay? A little money? Is not enough. I go back. I have my children, my husband. Good food – sausage – friends – sex...”

  “Oh Wanda, you can’t leave us. What would we do without you?” teased The Virgin.

  “I care for that?” she asked, reaching for a cigarette packet and the empty sardine tin from the shelf. “If you love us so much, take us to live in your big villa. Not this shitty place.”

  “Yes, Virgin, we come and live with you,” said Danka. “Cook, clean. Even sex sometimes – if you are polite.”

  “Sex as well? I’ll have to think about that. Would it be both together or one at a time?”

  Wanda pretended to slap him. “Both together! We are good Polish girls, Virgin. We are not like this.”

  “Maybe not – but I am. One beautiful Polish nurse is very good, but two would be even better.”

  Wanda stubbed out her cigarette in disgust. “Beautiful? Boże, Virgin, you are crazy. Like this country.”

  - 24 -

  The Virgin was sitting alone in his office next morning when the door creaked open and Evelina looked in. He jumped up. “Wow – Evelina. You are a surprise. What would you like? Coffee?”

  She sat and sipped her sweet coffee while The Virgin watched from the other side of the desk. She still looked pretty to him. Slim and black haired. And deep, deep eyes. But sexless. What a shame.

  “How did you do with the explosion then? No-one hurt I hope.”

  She grimaced. “No, thank God. Everyone’s safe. Most of us have lost our windows but that’s all. We’ve covered them with cardboard, and the electricity came on again quickly – because of the hospital, I suppose. But there were so many patients. We lost some…”

  “Must have been terrible. Danka was telling me.”

  “Yes – we all had to work hard to treat them. But it’s better now. Most of them have gone home again. If they have homes to go to. The apartment blocks out that way are still standing, but with a lot of damage. The private houses have really suffered. Not so well built, I suppose, and many of them just collapsed. And you? You survived…”

  “Oh, I was alright. I was visiting TAMCO at the time and I just hid under the stairs until it was all over.”

  “You know why I came? Captain Zella’s been talking about you again.”

  The Virgin’s ears stoo
d up. “Me? What does he want with me?”

  “I don’t think he likes you. He asked me if I knew you, and then he told me he was going to make real trouble for you. I just thought I’d tell you.”

  The Virgin thought for a while. He did not think Zella could do too much by himself, especially with Major Jamal looking over his shoulder, but he could still make life difficult. And it was quite difficult enough in normal times. He was willing to bet that Harris had lodged his passport with the tax department again, and if Zella ever got his hands on that he could cause endless delays. Perhaps he had better say something for the benefit of the bugs. He guessed that any private conversation with a girl would be judged salacious enough to pass on to Major Jamal. “Has he caused you any more trouble?”

  “No – he’s not too bad at the moment. Mind you, I’ll never let myself get caught alone with him again. I’ll never forgive him for what he did.”

  “Never mind. Put it behind you and forget about it. You can’t let someone like that influence your life.”

  “Easy for you to say, Virgin, easy for you. I still know what happened, and so does everyone else. I feel very ashamed about it.”

  “That’s silly! There’s lots of girls around who have done it for real and no one minds them. No one cares.”

  “But I care, Virgin. I care. One day I will want to marry and what will I tell my husband? Tell him about Captain Zella? How can I say that?”

  “Don’t worry about it. It won’t be a problem. And if it is, well, come and marry me instead. I don’t mind at all.”

  She smiled at him. “But you have Polish girls, Virgin, and your girl-friend in London too.”

  “I’d give them all up for you, Evelina. Just say the word and they’re history.”

  After she had left, he sat and thought for a long time about Captain Zella and his potential for mischief. That put him in mind of Major Jamal and the insurance certificate. He telephoned and asked for Major Jamal.

  He waited, listening to voices in the background. The phone was picked up. “Mr Cartwright. It is Captain Zella here. What do you want?”

  The bastard himself. Oh well – no harm in being polite. “Good morning, Captain Zella. How are you this fine morning?”

  “Well, Mr Cartwright, well. You wanted to speak to Major Jamal? I am sorry but he does not work here anymore. What did you want from him?”

  The Virgin was shocked and disappointed. “Oh – I didn’t know. He was looking for an insurance certificate for me. A certificate from the chemical container we sent you.”

  “I saw the fax,” said Zella smoothly. “What does this certificate look like?”

  “I really don’t know. I suppose it will have the number of the container on it. And Karelia’s name, of course. But the letterhead will be from an insurance company. Please don’t worry about it too much. If Karelia have made a mistake, well, they’ll just have to sort it out at their end. It’s their problem.”

  “We will see, Mr Cartwright. If it is here, we will see.”

  The Virgin put the phone down with a shudder. If Major Jamal was out of the picture, Zella might get to be much more of a problem. Well, there was nothing that could be done about it. He waited until Rabka and Abdul came into work and left for the rig. At least the problems out there were real and could be dealt with. And the military cordon had already degenerated to small groups of soldiers camping out in the bushes and sleeping around the clock.

  He spent the rest of the morning yarning with Terry but did not stay for his chicken lunch. Rabka had a surprise for him when he returned. “Captain Zella came looking for you. About eleven o’clock. Is he your friend?”

  The Virgin thought about the bugs before answering. “No – I wouldn’t call him a friend exactly. I know him from here, that’s all.”

  “You must be careful with people like that in Tabriz. They can make a lot of trouble for you if they don’t like you, you know. He had your passport with him. He showed it to me. He seemed cross that you weren’t here.”

  Oh shit! How had he done that again? Or why had he done it? Did that mean he wanted another shipment of gas? Or worse? Or perhaps he just wanted something for himself – a visit to Amsterdam, for instance. Amsterdam was always popular with young Tabrizi clients. Zella would certainly find the chance of a trip with unlimited sex and alcohol enticing.

  “Oh well,” he told Rabka, “He should have called first. I suppose I’d better tell Harris about it all. If he wants me to go anywhere, he’d better allow extra time to recover the passport.”

  “Plenty of time,” said Rabka. “If Captain Zella has it personally and he’s not available when you want it…”

  The Virgin found the thought of Captain Zella weighing on his mind that afternoon and he shut up the office early and went looking for Danka. He met her from the shuttle bus that brought the nurses back from the hospital and she led him upstairs. He stopped her on the stairs and asked her about Zella. Yes, she had seen him in the last couple of days, but he had not spoken to her. She had heard nothing. She took him to her apartment for coffee and in return The Virgin took her shopping down town.

  The 9-5/8” cement job came on the next day. The casing was on bottom in the evening and The Virgin spent the rest of the night with Rene and the guys mixing and pumping cement for the first stage of the job. He helped as they cemented only the lower half of the hole because the formation would never support the weight of a full column of liquid cement. The job was successful and he drove back home just before dawn. Rene would be able to get his head down for a few hours before the rig was ready for the second stage, but that was an easier job and The Virgin felt justified in staying away. It was Friday after all.

  Captain Zella caught him in his office later in the week. He came with a silent assistant carrying a brief case and they sat down without waiting for The Virgin to offer them chairs. Captain Zella refused a coffee and came straight to business. “Now, Mr Cartwright, tell me about this insurance certificate. Why is it needed?”

  “I don’t know. There was a fax from Karelia – that’s all I know.”

  “Ah yes. The fax.” He reached for his assistant to place a copy in his hand. “You are talking about this one?” He handed it over.

  “Yes – that’s the one. That’s all I know about it.”

  “Who is this Mr Houghton?”

  “Their Export Sales Manager, I suppose. He was here a couple of weeks ago. Seemed quite a nice man. You should visit him next time you’re in England. I’m sure he’ll be glad to take you around a little.”

  “Maybe. And what did he talk about when he was here?”

  “Not much really. He asked if you were happy with the chemical and whether you’d want any more. That was all, I think. He was with one of his salesmen and they were going to visit some other people here and in Almadi. Mostly in Almadi, I think.”

  “So who did he visit here?”

  “They spoke about Italco but I think that was just social. I don’t think Italco buy anything, but they do know a lot of people. I don’t think they talked about anyone else.” Listen to your own surveillance tapes, you little creep was what he really wanted to say.

  “What did he say about the insurance certificate?”

  “Nothing. Never mentioned it. Reading his fax, I don’t think he knew anything about it then. Look, do you want me to call him? I’ll ask him to give you a call, if you like.”

  Zella was unfazed. “I don’t think it is necessary. We will look to see if the document is in our files.” He got to his feet and his assistant jumped up behind him. “Do not try to go anywhere, Mr Cartwright. Do not forget I have your passport, and I will want to ask you more questions.”

  It riled The Virgin to have to put up with this sort of bullying but he was in Tabriz. You expected a Tabrizi bureaucrat to abuse his power if he had the chance to control a foreigner. He decided to take it all in his stride but he asked Zella anyway. “I’m scheduled to go out for a training course in a couple of months.
I guess you will have finished with my passport by then?”

  “That will not be possible, Mr Cartwright. You must go for your course another time.”

  “Really? How long do you think you’ll want to keep my passport?”

  “We will see, Mr Cartwright. Perhaps next year it will be possible.”

  The Virgin fought to control his face and escorted Zella out of the office. As he stepped out into the corridor, Zella made his mind up about something. “You see, Mr Cartwright, Major Jamal is dead. He was going to find your insurance certificate and was involved in an accident. You call him and now he is dead. I will think about this very carefully.”

  The Virgin shut the door behind him very gently. He then forced himself to sit quietly in his office and think about what he had heard. Major Jamal was dead. The Virgin had sent him to find the insurance certificate on the container and he was dead – in an accident. Major Jamal had gone to the container, and there had been a massive explosion at the Army’s munitions depot. And Major Jamal had died in ‘an accident’.

  The Virgin felt sick. Stanford had used him to kill Major Jamal, and anyone else who happened to be within range of the exploding munitions depot. They must have rigged the container to explode if anyone opened the cover for the valves. Probably an explosion big enough to destroy the tank and its contents, and anything nearby. It was just unfortunate that the Tabrizis had stored the tank in a munitions depot.

  The Virgin realised he was in very deep trouble. He forced himself to think rationally. Captain Zella had said that the insurance certificate and Major Jamal’s death were connected. He did not really think that. The Virgin was sure he did not suspect anything. If The Virgin were under suspicion, he would have been taken away immediately.