by Sewell, Ron
“A list, no, neither of us considered it appropriate but there will be the traditional money dance at the reception. Pin an envelope to her dress.”
“If that’s what you want, no problem. If you need any help with anything, shout.” He laughed. “Maria’s not doing much these days.”
“Just be there. After all, I do have you to thank for saving her life.”
“Bear saved her life when he dived into the water. I simply steered my boat.” He finished his coffee. “Must dash. Mama and Jack are coming for dinner and I promised not to be late. What do I owe you for the coffee?”
“On the house as always. I’ll ring you and confirm everything closer to the date.”
Petros waved as he left.
Chapter Eleven
“It’s a simple matter of keeping your eye on the ball,” said Charles Haskell. “Not surprised Chad was a no-go. Where next?”
“Libya,” said Bear.
“Bit of unrest in that region but my contacts stay active. One thousand dollars US a day not withstanding any extras.”
“Bit pricey but beggars... I need someone to get me, plus Akeem if he wants to come, to Waw al Kabir. It’s in the middle of nowhere.”
Charles nodded. “I know the place. Did a deal with a few rebel groups. Well NATO wasn’t forthcoming. So I decided to help, at a price of course, to rid Libya of Gaddafi.”
“Don’t want to know, Charles. Your best man in Libya. Does he have a name?”
“Yes. Wait, I’ll try and contact him now.” He pressed the screen on his I-phone and waited. In Arabic he said, “Peace be upon you, Amadou. I have a friend who needs assistance.”
“A friend of yours is indeed a friend of mine. How can I help?”
Charles explained that two groups were planned to arrive independent of each other. The latter joining a few days later.
“Two parties at separate times. No problem.”
“If possible,” said Charles, “I need my friends transferred to Waw al Kabir and when their work is complete, returned to England.”
“My country has problems but leave it with me and I will get back. Are your friends prepared to pay for any favours I may ask?”
“You have my word, Amadou, your expenses will be met.”
“Your word is good.” The conversation ended.
“Yes or no?” said Bear.
“Perhaps is a good word. Give me your shopping list.”
Bear handed over a detailed file of requirements.
Charles called Akeem to his office. The three of them discussed the various options available before agreeing.
“How much do I owe you, Charles?”
“Five will cover my fee but add at least ten more for flights and desert vehicles with full equipment. Don’t forget you must have US dollars to give to Amadou if he comes through.”
“The cash will be available when we next talk.”
“Bear, I trust you but then you know the score if you try and cheat.”
“I do.”
***
Charles and Bear arranged to meet at Joanna’s, a restaurant situated between Inverness Terrace and Queensborough Terrace, Bayswater. A medium-sized establishment with glistening white tablecloths, gleaming silverware and sparkling chandeliers.
Charles sat at a table near the back wall. Bear arrived five minutes later, dressed informally, with a buff folder in his hand. This he placed on the table.
“Long time since I was here, Charles.”
“It’s by invitation and as you’re well aware, the safest place in town to talk. I took the liberty to order you a T-bone rare with all the trimmings and an extra side order of chips. I know you love your food.”
“Thanks. I could murder a chilled Guinness.”
“They’re on their way.”
Bear looked up as Frank, a co-owner hovered by his side. “Your drinks, gentlemen. Jo is preparing your main course as we speak. He has a moody on but I’ll kick his tight arse if he spoils your T-bone steaks. Selected them myself from that cheeky butcher on the Bayswater Road. I think he fancies me.”
Charles glared at Frank who shut up and sidled away muttering, “Must be time of the month.”
“Not for me,” said Bear.
“I’m given to understand he’s a tiger in the bedroom.”
“Maybe so. I’m here to discuss the job in hand.”
“Good, let’s get down to business. Amadou made contact yesterday. You’ll need to book your flight to Benghazi. Don’t, under any circumstances, leave the terminal. For eight thousand dollars, he will meet and go with you on a private plane to Waw al Kabir. Your transport and any other requirements he will arrange. I suggest you take him with you on your trip as he speaks the local dialect.”
“Not the cheapest of options but you trust him and that’s good enough for me.”
“Almost forgot,” said Charles, “those rags Akeem brought back from Chad, you’re to wear them at War al Kabir. Amadou suggests, with tribal conflicts flaring like wild fires, it will help. Oh, they’ve been washed twice. Might not make them look better but the crap that splashed around inside my washing machine blocked the pump filter. And don’t worry, the second wash was in plain water. Desert Arabs do not smell of Persil.”
Frank appeared, balancing their order between his hands and elbows. “Rare, is that yours, big man?”
Bear nodded. The oval platter covered by one steak rested on the table.
“Well done for you, dear?”
Charles said nothing as Frank positioned the platter and in the centre of the table a choice of wild mushrooms, plum tomatoes, garden peas, and a platter overflowing with golden crisp chips.
“Bon appetite, boys and girls,” said Frank as he strolled away.
“Eat and enjoy, Bear.”
Bear shoved a large hunk of steak into his mouth. “Perfect.”
“It always is,” said Charles, “and you’re paying.”
“There’s always a catch.” From the folder he removed an envelope. “One bank draft for five grand, don’t lose it.”
Charles placed it in his wallet. “I’ll cash this before you leave to guarantee my money.”
“Why, frightened we might not come back?”
“In this life and with your job it’s a possibility.”
***
Petros strolled across Charing Cross hospital car park on completion of his inoculations for Libya. There was no turning back, he told himself. He leant against his BMW and contacted Bear.
“Yes.”
“How’s the plan?”
“Leave tomorrow for Benghazi. My sat phones charged so I’ll text you instructions. By the way, there’s another man on the team. Amadou, a Libyan. Charles assures me he’s the man for the job but watch what you say, he might get greedy. Two bodies in the desert might not be unusual at the moment.”
“Make sure Akeem watches your back.”
“Don’t worry, PK. I intend to arrive home in one piece. Whatever you do don’t tell Evil Eva anything.”
“No intention. If she doesn’t like it she can return to Berlin.”
“Must go. Taking Jocelyn out for a meal.”
“Give her my love.”
“Will do.” The call ended.
Chapter Twelve
For the entire flight from Heathrow to Benghazi Bear slept. A flight attendant woke him five minutes before the plane began its final approach.
Akeem, seated at the rear, made no attempt at communication or recognition. Peace in Libya existed if you believed, he did not.
Customs officers took their time asking Bear why he was visiting Libya. He told them he wanted to photograph the exotic volcano at Waw an Namus in moonlight.
“Mosquitoes in the wilderness love fresh blood,” said one in English. Another searching his bag said something in Arabic, and laughed.
Akeem showed his passport, waited for the official stamp and strolled through unhindered. He stopped and leant against a wall behind a dust-covered display of
fake palms and waited.
Bear positioned himself on the other side. “What now?”
“We wait. Do you know Amadou?”
“No, but Charles emailed your mug shot.”
The voice with a slight northern English accent came without warning. “Comfortable flight, Mr Morris?” A short, thin man wearing a laundered khaki uniform with no rank badges stood less than five metres in front of them.
“Amadou?”
He nodded and shook Bear’s hand.
You come well recommended,” said Bear.
Charles and I go way back. He trusts me as I him. I understand the price of failure.”
Akeem joined them from behind the trees. “I’ll stroll along behind.”
“Come, let’s walk.”
Together the three men traipsed through the terminal, through a door marked No Entry and onto the concrete aircraft stands.
“Your transport is in the hanger with a large hole in the roof.” He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” said Bear.
“A soldier, while being shown how to use a grenade launcher, made the hole. The roof collapsed and killed him. I think that’s funny,” said Amadou. “You have my money?”
Bear reached into his inside jacket pocket and removed two sealed packets. “Charles said a thousand dollars a day and I reckon six days at most for this job. The other is an eight-thousand dollar thank you for arranging everything. Payment in full, unless it goes pear-shaped.”
“What?
“It goes tits up.”
Amadou looked at Bear, took the money, and weighed it in his hand. “Six days.”
The sun was at its peak in a blue Mediterranean sky. The dry heat reflected off the concrete, sweat ran down their backs. A white Cessna Stationair taxied out of the hanger, stopped and opened its doors for access.
“Your plane, gentlemen. You will be in hot and dry Waw Kabir in no time. Enjoy your flight.”
“Whoa,” said Bear. “I’ve paid you for six days work. You’re coming with us.”
“And when your friends arrive who will meet them? Arrangements are ready for you and Akeem. Whatever you need, at a price of course, is available.”
“Vehicles for travel across the desert. I need two,” said Bear.
“Fuelled and waiting. Two Toyota Land Cruisers with extra wide tyres and enough spare diesel to get you back to Benghazi if you want to drive. I do not recommend you try. Too many boys with weapons who might shoot you and say they thought you were Gaddafi’s men trying to escape. Charles told me what you need and I keep my word.”
Akeem stood one metre in front of Adamou and stared at his face.
“You are wasting time,” said Adamou.
“I am etching your face into my memory in case one day I must kill you. I hate killing the wrong person.”
“Come, Akeem. I trust this man is as good as his word,” said Bear.
“You’re associates of Charles. He has fingers in many pies. To offend him is to order my own death. For as sure as the sun rises every day, that would be my fate. I wish to live to see my grandchildren have babies.”
Bear turned. “You will be joining us later?”
Adamou nodded. “When your friends arrive,” he nodded. “Of course.”
On the tarmac nearby stood several military vehicles, their shabbily-dressed crews lounged against them.
Adamou waved and shouted. “May Mohammad go with you, my friends.”
Bear and Akeem understood and ran to the waiting plane. With little air traffic, the control tower cleared them for take-off in minutes.
***
The pilot, a man in his mid-thirties with a frail frame, his face covered in stubble and shoulder-length black hair tied in a ponytail, smiled. In a heavy English accent, he said, “Enjoy the flight, gentlemen. I understand I will be bringing you back from the end of the world.”
“Is it that awful?” asked Bear.
“Awful is the wrong word. For centuries desert tribes used it as a staging post, because of the fresh water. Without water all that exists are sand vipers, scorpions, boulder plains and more sand.”
“Not that it matters to me but are we taking a direct route?” asked Bear.
“As you say in your country, as the crow flies.”
Akeem stared out of the window and said nothing.
“Will you refuel in Waw al Kibir?”
“No chance and pay their prices? This is fitted with long range fuel tanks. With luck, I’ll fly seventeen hundred kilometres there and back. Without the extra fuel tanks, we can cover fourteen hundred. They reduce the payload but give me another six hundred. Fuel at desert landing strips is treble the price and at the moment there’s not much of it, after our squabble with Gaddafi’s troops.”
“How long is the flight?”
“Four hours. I hope.”
“You hope?”
“I hope no head winds or sand storms.”
“Wake me when we arrive. From where I’m sat there’s not much to see.”
***
“Wake up, guys. Make sure you’re strapped in,” shouted the pilot.
Bear and Akeem glanced out of the windows at Waw al Kibir.
“It’s a container city, an old fortress and lots of palms,” said the pilot.
“You forgot the oasis, very important,” said Bear.
On landing, the plane’s wheels touched the hard-packed sand-covered runway with a thump. The craft taxied to a small building and stopped.
The pilot released his straps. “Follow me. Have your visas and passports ready, and don’t argue. In the middle of the desert rules are sometimes forgotten.”
Bear and Akeem jumped out of the plane onto the hot landing strip. Not the faintest hint of a cloud discoloured the sky. The sun scorched bare skin and their shirts became stained with sweat. They strolled to a building that served as Arrivals and Departures and waited. The one uniformed official grabbed their paperwork and stamped it. The pilot handed over his flight plan attached to a clipboard.
Bear nudged Akeem as the man removed an envelope and shoved it into his pocket.
“See you two next week,” said the pilot as he wandered back to his plane,
A boy entered and bowed. “I am Zero Zogby, I may only be eighteen but I am the best guide in this village. You may call me ZZ.”
“Go on,” said Bear, “I’m listening.”
His cropped black hair made him look younger than his years. “Mr Charles tell me, I work for big black man. Outside, one car, another at tent.”
Bear walked outside and gave the cream-coloured Toyota Land Cruiser the once over. “Did you drive this?”
“Yes.” The boy caressed the bonnet. “Air-conditioned. Very good.”
“Akeem,” shouted Bear. He got into the driver’s seat and ZZ opened the passenger door. “ZZ, you’re in the back.” He gestured with his hand. “My partner sits in the front.”
ZZ grinned and jumped in the rear.
Bear started the engine, waited for Akeem to load their luggage. “Okay ZZ, which way?”
ZZ pointed to a track dusted with sand.
Ten minutes later at a spot surrounded by tall palms, they stopped a few metres from a large tent.
They alighted from the Toyota. The thin white canvas appeared to float in the light wind.
“Your home,” said ZZ. “My father’s portable generator supplies power for lighting and the air-con.”
Bear pulled the entrance flap to one side and entered. Cooled air wafted across his face and the low hum of an air-conditioning unit disturbed the peaceful setting. Carpets covered every inch of the ground on which the tent stood.
“Remove shoes,” said ZZ. “Good manners.” He turned and smiled at Akeem who stood barefoot.
Bear removed his shoes and looked around. “Impressive.”
ZZ pointed to the entrance. “Toilet and bathroom outside. Kitchen...”
“Don’t tell me,” said Bear, “outside.”
Two inflatable ma
ttresses covered in sheets and cushions lay in the far corner.
“Tea?” said ZZ. “After a long journey tea is refreshing.”
“Sounds good,” said Bear.
ZZ disappeared and within five minutes, they sat on cushions on the carpet-covered sand sipping tea.
“Akeem, time for a walk,” said Bear.
Both men strolled around there encampment, the hot wind causing sweat to soak their shirts. They stopped when far enough away not to be overheard.
“So far so good,” said Bear. “You know what we need and I’ll leave that for you to arrange. Do you agree we go for the treasure?”
His eyes bright, Akeem nodded.
“Agreed, I’ll text Petros. Thank God for satellite communication.”
Chapter Thirteen
Their meeting place was not of Petros’ choosing but when he arrived he saw Eva at the bar of the Bow Bells with a drink in her hand.
His eyes scanned the room, big-screen television, a pool table and chalk board, value-for-money menu.
Eva, dressed in tight blue jeans and a loose fitting pink sweater, sipped at a pint of lager. “You found it then?”
“I’m here.”
“You have some news?”
Petros waved to one of the bar staff and ordered a pint of tonic and fresh orange juice. “I’m off to Benghazi tomorrow and will return to London in five days.”
Eve stood frozen, her expression angry. “I’ve had half a dozen needles stuck in my bum and I’m coming with you.”
“Don’t think so.”
“You agreed and we are searching for my grandfather’s diamonds.”
“It might be dangerous.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I don’t want you around.”
“You take me or I find someone else.”
Petros shuddered at the madness in her eyes. “Eva, I don’t believe we can work together and I don’t give a toss what you think.”
“It’s my turn now,” she said. “Try to understand. It’s a question of priorities. I don’t want to work with you but I do want to be there at the moment you find those diamonds. As far as having to look after me, I can handle myself. I’m in or you’re out?”