by Sewell, Ron
With a grin he slipped it over his head. The loose fitting garment covered his frame and dragged on the ground.
“Perfect. The best you’ve ever looked, PK. Be thankful no Arab will fancy your arse.”
“Believe me when I say you are in grave danger.”
Petros shrugged, aware that without help they might be dead by morning.
“When the plane lands,” said Amadou, “Petros and ZZ will sit in the rear seats. Bear will occupy the middle. Until we reach my house, you do not say one word Petros. ZZ will carry your bags. Bear, you and I will walk a few paces in front. Bear will get into the car first. You, Petros, will walk to the other side and sit not touching Bear. ZZ and I will be in the front seats. Do this and we will see the sun rise.”
“How do we get out of Libya?” asked Petros.
“I have a few thoughts but nothing is clear-cut. In my house you will be safe. Rest, it’s going to be a long night.”
They lay back on the cushions with eyes closed.
“Will someone wake me when the food arrives,” said Bear. “I’m starving.”
Chapter Twenty
On the dust-covered landing strip three men stood waiting. One dressed as a woman and a boy. Each fixed their eyes on the Hawker Beachcraft as it approached, landed, and taxied towards them. The pilot turned the craft ready for take-off and silenced the single engine.
Amadou opened the cockpit door and spoke. “Why have you stopped the engine?”
“Hey, don’t give me grief. You wanted a plane in a hurry. My craft was ready. If I don’t refuel we’ll crash in the desert. Make a decision. So long as you can buy me a new Hawker I don’t care.”
Amadou frowned. “Why are you still sitting there?”
The pilot glanced at his watch. “If that sun sets before the fuel arrives, I stay the night.”
“Did you order fuel?”
“Do I look stupid?”
From a distance, the rumble of the fuel tanker’s engine drifted across the field.
The pilot jumped from the craft.
Amadou returned to the others. “Don’t worry, he will take off as soon as the tanks are full even if I have to persuade him.”
Forty minutes later the fuel tanker departed and the pilot strolled towards the waiting group. “You have five minutes.”
ZZ tossed their luggage into the hold compartment and let his eyes wander across the desert. “It has a magic of its own.”
“It brings death to the foolish and nothing to the wise. God gave up on this land,” said Amadou while he waited for Petros and ZZ to sit in the rear seats.
Bear clambered into the middle double seat. Amadou scrambled into the co-pilot’s position.
The pilot turned and checked his passengers. Satisfied, the engine roared and with the brake released the plane raced along the runway. The afterglow of the sun faded as the wheels left the ground.
***
The four soldiers staggered in a line through desert where the moon cast eerie shadows. Each man attempted to stay alert watching for trouble.
Dawn broke and the ruins of the ancient buildings cast long shadows across the sand.
“We stay in the shade until sunset,” said the first man pointing.
“How much water do we have?” asked another.
“It ran out an hour ago.”
“So we die in this unknown place.”
“I’ve been in worse.”
The four men stumbled into the shadow of a crumbling wall and rested. One said a silent prayer that they might survive the day. In the cool of the early morning they slept, the soft breeze piled sand against them.
***
“Benghazi in ten minutes,” said the pilot as he shook Amadou awake.
Amadou touched Bear’s shoulder A grunt told him he was awake.
“Street fighting between semi-legal armed militia,” said the pilot. “The Islamist groups have formed political parties. Every night revenge killings of Gaddafi supporters take place. Most nights it’s one or two but on the odd occasion whole families are shot. In the morning The New Libyan Army find the bodies riddled with bullets. I have this plane to make my living, if and when the tourists return. If they don’t my family starves.”
Amadou turned and in the gloom nodded to Bear, who along with the others remained silent.
On being contacted, the control tower gave clearance but advised not to circuit in the vicinity of the west side of the airport.
The pilot turned to Amadou. “Must be trouble. I never went against Gaddafi but for most of the time it was peaceful. Groups patrol the streets searching for those who supported Gaddafi or foreigners they can kill and rob. Your companions are the quietest people I’ve met in a long time.”
“They are from Aswan, Egypt. I’ve dragged them across the desert for the last few days. Not sure why they came to Libya. When you’ve driven across one desert,” he shrugged. “But they pay well so I do what I’m told.”
While he caressed the plane’s controls the pilot’s eyes alternated between the instruments and the runway. With a bump, the Hawker landed and cruised at speed towards the hanger zone. At a short distance from the hanger the plane stopped.
Amadou pressed a memory key on his mobile and spoke. “Meet us between hanger five and six.” He turned to face Bear. “Time to disembark, I have a car waiting.”
Bear grunted, opened the door and slid to the ground. ZZ jumped out and collected their baggage. Petros stood on the tarmac and stared at the mass of stars filling the sky but said nothing.
In the distance the sporadic discharge of weapons filled the morning air.
“Bear, shift your fat arse,” whispered Amadou. “I don’t want to be caught out in the open if armed thugs are on the rampage.”
“Is nowhere safe?”
“One day.”
The group walked at speed to the side of hanger number five. In the shadows, a US Military Hummer growled.
On seeing Amadou, the driver, a muscular young man, jumped from the bonnet to the ground, in his right arm he cradled an automatic rifle.
Amadou grabbed the man, hugged and whispered, “Hassim, these are my friends. Drive to my home and don’t stop.”
The bearded man laughed and slapped him on the back. “In this armour-plated beast and at full speed I’m unstoppable.” He motioned for everyone to climb into his mobile fortress.
The first rays of the sun crept over the horizon and amplifiers throughout the city called the faithful to prayer.
“What are they saying?” said Bear.
“Allah is great,” said Amadou, as his eyes filled with unease scanned the locale. “Get into the vehicle.”
Hassim sped through streets where no light flickered through shuttered windows. Through the windscreen they saw armed men in the shadows. Driving hard, his hand never left the horn. He approached a slow moving line of water tankers belching black smoke. Without any hesitation, the Hummer shifted into the oncoming lane and he gunned the huge engine.
The tanker drivers waved as the beast overtook them.
Forty-five minutes later the Hummer stopped. “When you get out run straight up the stairs, the door will open before you reach the top.”
Bear, followed by the others, obeyed without hesitation and the door opened as he reached it.
A woman shrouded in black stood by the open door. Amadou charged through as she shoved it shut, turned the lock and slid the two steel bolts in place. “No point in making yourselves a target for a young man attempting to prove himself.”
“Bear, Petros, my partner Durrah. In English it means pearl.”
In an instant, she removed the robe that covered her and hugged Amadou.
“I thought only the husband could see his wife without the robe,” said Petros as he removed his disguise.
“I wear it for safety,” said Durrah, in a broad New York accent. Her dark eyes focused on the size of Bear. “If I obey their rules outside my house I have no problems. I speak Arabic as a local. W
hat the world doesn’t know it will not worry over. Anyone hungry?”
I love you already,” said Bear.
“It’s a lamb stew with fresh bread. There is green tea or coffee if you prefer. We do not allow alcohol in the house.”
“Stew and a few hours’ kip. Perfect,” said Bear.
“Amadou was it necessary for me to wear that blanket?” asked Petros.
“Yes. The pilot will tell people he transported a rich Egyptian and his wife from Waw al Kabir. Your pilot, if he’s still alive, flew three men and a German woman. No connection.”
“I think we might have got away with it.”
“And you might not.”
“Stop arguing. My stew needs to be eaten while it is hot.”
“Leave the bags there, ZZ, and come and eat,” said Amadou.
Petros smiled, picked up one bag and followed the others.
In the basement, an oblong wooden table supported a large cooking pot from which the aroma of cooked lamb and spices scented the room.
“Seat yourselves and I will serve. If you need more please ask,” said Durrah.
“Give my large friend two plates,” said Amadou, “He enjoys his food.”
Amadou played with his food eating a few mouthfuls before he stood. “Subject to my contacts being willing, I’ll arrange your exit documentation today. For the moment flights are cancelled and I doubt if that bag,” he pointed, “will escape official notice at the airport.”
Petros frowned. “Is there a German embassy in Benghazi?”
Amadou did not answer straight away but paced the floor. “Since the killing of the US Ambassador and the destruction of the Egyptian consulate’s car, along with other stupid shootings, many of the embassies have closed leaving a caretaker to look after the building. No doubt, he has instructions to leave if an incident occurs. I will check to see if the German embassy is open in Tripoli.” Shaking his head, he leant on the table. “The problem is transporting you two unnoticed to Tripoli. It might be easier to ship you out in a box. If stopped by a legal or a non-government-sanctioned militia and the diamonds are discovered you will be shot. That I guarantee.”
Petros laughed in disbelief. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“I suggest we eat and then rest,” said Bear. “My brain when it doesn’t hurt functions better on a full stomach and a few hours’ undisturbed kip.”
“The shutters in your rooms are closed and bolted shut,” said Durrah. “You have to accept it will be hot and stuffy but please do not open them. You must remember that because Britain helped us defeat Gaddafi, not every Libyan is of a similar mind. The old have not forgotten the colonial days and may seek to gain favour with the police by reporting you.”
“Bear stood, burped and stretched his arms high. “Where’s my bed, Amadou?”
“Just because you’re a mobile food disposal unit, can’t you wait until we’ve finished?” said Petros.
“You’re right, PK. Shut up and eat up. I’m knackered and want to be able to sleep without the fear some bastard is going to murder me.”
“That’s very considerate of you.”
“You are safe here,” said Durrah. “The obstacle we have is getting you out of the country alive with a bag full of diamonds.
Chapter Twenty - One
The light wind blew grains of sand onto the sleeping man’s face. He breathed deep drawing the particles into his mouth. He awoke, coughed, spluttered, and shook his head. Objects came into focus. A nearby wall shielded him from the heat of the sun. The pistol rammed into his waist belt dug into his side. With both hands he dragged his dehydrated body erect, Dust fell from his clothes.
To his left another mass of stones. He shifted his feet striking something soft. Then he remembered and on his knees he examined each man. Exhausted by his efforts, he tumbled and dragged his body into the shade, closed his eyes and said a prayer for the dead. He felt the fear of death every soldier knows. His right hand dragged the pistol from his belt and pushed it into his mouth, the barrel pointing to his brain. He hesitated a moment before a red stain blossomed on the mud brick wall.
***
“The sun is overhead,” shouted Amadou. “Take a shower, dress in clean clothes. Lunch is ready.”
Petros stirred, sat on the edge of the bed and stretched. “Bear, shift your fat arse. Where’s ZZ?”
Amadou replied. “He’s running a few errands. Before we left that god-forsaken village, I talked with his father. After much negotiation, he is now my apprentice.”
“What you mean is you bought the boy,” said Petros.
“In the old world that might be true and you are correct, money changed hands but if he wanted to leave today I would shake his hand and wish him well. He’s a bright young man who, with the benefit of education, will help me with my business. You forget he taught himself to speak English by listening to records and pestering tourists. Get showered.”
Bear sat on the edge of the bed, yawned and stood. “I’ll shower first. I’m quicker than you.”
Petros raised his head and chuckled. “Never understood how. There’s a lot more of you to wash.”
Naked, Bear lumbered to the bathroom, stopped, farted, and slammed the door. Twenty minutes elapsed before he returned. “That’s better, had a massive dump and a great shower.”
“I see you’re still taking the charm pills,” said Petros as he jumped up, towel in hand.
“Durrah is my ideal woman and she cooks a mean stew.”
“She eats men for breakfast.”
Bear grinned. “If it wasn’t for my Jocelyn I’d let her.”
“No chance,” said Petros as he closed the bathroom door.
***
Amadou sat at one end of the long table munching on an apple when Petros and Bear arrived. “Help yourselves to bread, meat. There’s fresh coffee in the pot. I have a contact arriving soon to discuss your departure. After, I will meet with the right people to make sure your passports are correct.”
“Paperwork doesn’t get us out of here,” said Bear. “Not that I don’t enjoy your house, company and this wonderful food but every day we’re here increases the possibility of trouble for you and your wife.”
“Master,” said ZZ, “I bring Ibrahim the undertaker to your home.”
Amadou nodded. “Ibrahim, these are my friends, Petros and Bear.”
“As your friends they have my respect but in these unsettled times, why are they here?”
“I have called you to my house for you to suggest how they may leave our country without the authorities knowing.”
Ibrahim positioned his abundant frame on a chair opposite a plate of fruit and helped himself to a bunch of grapes. “Indeed you have a problem. The airport is closed but then it could open tomorrow or next week. Overland to Egypt is dangerous with the local military manning roadblocks and checking every traveller. I suggest they leave on a fishing boat for Malta. Two, three days travel. The boat is no problem as I have many but a fishing boat out for four days returning without fish might be considered suspect by those who police the docks.”
Amadou smiled but then his eyes narrowed. “Petros, Bear, make a decision. You can stay here for as long as you want. The fishing boat idea is workable.”
Bear stood and strolled to the end of the room before speaking. “I hate boats, the last one Petros and I had the pleasure to travel on, sank in a typhoon. But it appears to be the best choice. What do you think, PK?”
“Three days at most and we’re back in the real world. Malta is good and they have regular flights to London. More important, the German embassy is open. If you can get the paperwork signed and our passports stamped, I’m up for it.”
“Ibrahim,” said Amadou, “The crew of your boat, can they keep their mouths shut?”
“I trust these men with my life.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” said Amadou. “Have your boat ready for departure tonight. Petros, Bear, I need your passports and visas.”
“I’l
l get them,” said Petros.
“Apart from these men, will my boat need any special accommodation or alterations?” asked Ibrahim. He shivered when Bear gave him an icy look.
Bear detected something in the man’s eyes and the slightest hesitation in his voice. “Explain.”
“He has been known to transport certain high value items,” said Amadou. “In a few instances, weapons, and ammunition for me. Bear, I trust this man. He knows the price of failure. Ibrahim, go make everything ready. I will contact you. Have your boat on the inner wall of the great harbour at ten with its engines running.”
“But we have not discussed the price.”
Amadou looked hard at the fat man. “You owe me many favours. This for me is from your wish to help. I can find someone more amenable if you wish.”
“You are right. Friends should help each other. I will leave and make the preparations.”
“Ten tonight.”
“I will be there.”
The three men watched him leave.
***
Ibrahim glanced back at the house to make sure no one was watching and hurried along the busy street.
A woman shrouded in a black cloak bumped into him. He swore and pushed her to one side.
She stopped, turned and watched as he disappeared into the distance. Further along the road she climbed the steps to her home, opened the door and entered. “My husband, where are you?” Durrah shouted. “The device is planted.”
Amadou descended the marble staircase. “Will you track his movements? I have to visit my contacts and have these documents authorised.”
“Why do you use the fat man? I hate it when he looks at me. He rapes me with his eyes.”
“He has been useful. Did you see ZZ?”
“No, why?”
“He is following our fat friend. Bear and Petros are in their room resting and watching cartoons in Arabic on television. If I’m not back in time for dinner, eat without me.”
Durrah strolled into their office and checked the twin computer screens. The tiny black dot that moved along the street map told her where Ibrahim was at that moment. Satisfied the recording system functioned, she went and made a coffee.