The Levanter Part 13

'Why do you say "appear" to be?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well we are cooperating, aren't we?'

He frowned impatiently. 'What else do you suggest we do?'

'Is this adapter ring going to work?'

'Of course it's going to work.' He was indignant for a moment, then he shrugged. 'Oh, I see. You think it would be better if the ring didn't work.'

'Don't you think so?'

'Aren't we out to sabotage this criminal operation of Ghaled's, you mean? Of course we are. But how can we sabotage it when we don't know exactly what he's planning?'

'We know some things.'

'Bits of things. Not enough. Anyway, messing about with the adapter ring wouldn't do any good. I considered changing the f.l.a.n.g.e dimensions slightly. Maybe that would have made a difference, but how could I be certain? I don't know enough about ammunition to say. Anyway, he's not going to take it on trust. He's bound to try it out.'

We were in the villa office and he tried to change the subject then by opening the Urgent file on his desk and starting to go through it. I had already dealt with the really urgent things there and wasn't going to be put off like that.

'Michael, I've been thinking,' I said.

'Yes?' His tone was a clear intimation that he wasn't interested.

'About those confessions we signed.'

That caught him. 'What about them?'

'We're both supposed to have been in touch with the Israeli intelligence service.'

'Standard incriminatory stuff. Mandatory death sentence.'

'They gave the name of an Israeli agent in Cyprus.'

'I know. Ze-ev Barlev.'

'Well, why don't we get in touch with him? He must exist or they wouldn't have named him.'

Michael sat back. I had his attention. 'Oh yes, Barlev exists. He was based on Nicosia.'

'Well then.'

'I said was. He hasn't been in Nicosia for six months. There was a little trouble. He was blown.'

'He must have been replaced by now.'

'I dare say.'

'Famagusta could find out about the replacement.'

'You make it sound very easy, but let's say, for the purpose of your argument, that they could find out. One of us gets in touch with him? Is that your idea?'

'We've already confessed to being in touch with Barlev. Why shouldn't we really be in touch with his successor?'

'Be hanged for a fact instead of a fantasy?' The con-man was wrinkling his eyes at me now, roguish and extremely tiresome.

'I was hoping to avoid hanging,' I said tartly. 'I a.s.sume you are too. Among the other things I am hoping to avoid is any responsibility, direct or moral, for whatever atrocity this Ghaled is planning. You say we can't go to the authorities here. In the case of Colonel s.h.i.+kla and the Internal Security Service, that I accept. We know now that Ghaled has ISS sympathisers. But there are others who would listen to us. Colonel s.h.i.+kla has enemies who would be glad of a chance to embarra.s.s him.'

'And you think s.h.i.+kla would not know that we were responsible? Of course he would know. And so would everyone else.'

'Yes, it would be bad for business. Poor Agence Howell.'

'That is unfair!' The managing director had suddenly emerged from the committee room. 'We have been over all this a dozen times. It is not a matter of business but of our personal safety. Any action, official or unofficial, that we initiate here against Ghaled will result in action, direct action, against us. I am not talking about cargo fires and engine room explosions in company s.h.i.+ps, but personal attacks.' 'We could demand protection.'

'Against Colonel s.h.i.+kla when Ghaled has pa.s.sed him our confessions and they are sitting on his desk? You know better than that, Teresa.'

'Very well. So we have a choice. We either run away or we sabotage Ghaled without his knowing it. And since you say we mustn't run. . . .'

'I have already accepted the policy of sabotage providing that it can be carried out without personal risk. What more do you want?'

'Some a.s.surance that the sabotage is going to be effective.'

'We're going to get that by sticking our necks out with Israeli intelligence? Is that what you believe?'

'Our necks are already sticking out.'

There is a certain difference, as I have been endeavouring to point out,' he said coldly, 'between the words in a false confession and the deeds you are proposing. Do you think I haven't already considered the possibility of contact with the Israelis? Of course I have.'

'Well then.'

'This isn't the time.' He eyed me sullenly for a moment and then his forefinger shot out, pointing at my nose. 'All right, my girl, let's say you're going to meet an Israeli agent tonight. It's all been arranged - cut-outs, the safe house, everything. What are you going to tell him?'

'What we know.'

'Which is what? That Ghaled is planning something against them? That'll be no news to him. That he's got arms of a sort, rockets perhaps? No news again.'

'What about the night of July the third?'

'What about it? An anniversary day in Israel. Did you think I hadn't looked it up? Tammuz twenty in the Hebrew calendar. Anniversary of the death of Theodor Herzl, the founder of Zionism. From Ghaled's point of view a symbolic day on which to strike. Yes, indeed!'

'There's going to be a s.h.i.+p, the Amalia, off Tel Aviv that night with some of Ghaled's men aboard. We know that much.'

'A neutral s.h.i.+p outside Israeli territorial waters? What are these men of Ghaled's going to do? Spit in the sea? But go on. You also know that five hundred electrically operated detonators are being manufactured in our battery works. How are they going to be used? Do you know? You do not. How do you think this good Israeli agent is going to respond to your tidings? I'll tell you. He's going to say, "Thank you very much, Miss Malandra, this is all very interesting and suggestive. Will you please now go back and discover what this alleged plan of Ghaled's really is? That is, Miss Malandra, if you really want to help us as you say you do."' He threw up his hands. 'You see? You don't yet know enough to be useful. Why then run the risk of making this dangerous contact? Why not wait until the information you have-if you can get it-makes the risk worth taking? Why take useless chances?'

I should have mentioned another member of the committee -the hectoring Grand Inquisitor.

There was nothing I could say, of course; he was right. However, I didn't have to reply because letting off steam like that had started him thinking again. He pushed the Urgent file away from him and watched a fly that was circling the office. After a time he opened the deep drawer in his desk and took out the aerosol insecticide spray he always kept there. He shook it absently.

'Pressure,' he murmured. 'We must apply pressure.'

He took the cap off the spray, waited for the fly to come round again and then gave it a short burst. When he was sure that the fly was doomed he returned the spray to the drawer.

'I want to speak to Elie Abouti,' he said.

That was one of the last things I had expected to hear. Abouti was the contractor who had built the electronics a.s.sembly plant. He was completely unscrupulous and had been clever enough to conceal the depths of his infamy until it was too late for us to take counter-measures. He had made a fantastic profit on the job which, thanks to his ingenious use of sub-standard materials, had become a major maintenance problem almost before it had been completed. Michael had vowed vengeance in the most blood-curdling terms. If he now wanted to talk to Abouti it could only be that the hour of vengeance was at hand. I was curious to see what form it would take, and wondered what connection it could have with the Ghaled situation.

When Abouti came on the line you would have thought that he and Michael were the best of friends. I could hear Abouti's high voice quacking happily as they exchanged compliments and Michael was oozing camaraderie. I waited patiently for him to come to the point, but when he did I could hardly believe my ears.

'My dear friend,' Michael said unctuously, 'I am most happy to tell you that I see a chance, a good chance, of our being able to work together again.'

The quacking at the other end became slightly guarded in tone. Small wonder. Although the vengeance had been vowed privately, Abouti could not have been unaware of Michael's feelings on the subject of the electronics plant buildings.

'I am delighted to hear it, my dear friend, delighted,' Michael was saying, and then he chuckled. 'But this time, my dear Abouti, I hope you will not take it amiss if I ask that I may be allowed a little personal share in your profit.'

The quacking immediately became more animated. A man who wants to share with you in an illegal profit to be made out of a government contract cannot be seriously ill-disposed towards you.

'Have you still got Rashti working for you?' Michael asked.

Rashti was Abouti's overseer and as big a crook, if that were possible, as Abouti himself. He, too, had been marked down for vengeance.

'Good. Can he be made available at short notice with a survey team? Possibly next week? I ask because we may have to act quickly to secure this business without compet.i.tion. Best to move in and occupy the site. There is an Italian interest involved. Yes, it will be a Ministry development contract. The Der'a area. But the foreign interest will try to exercise control unless the door is firmly closed.'

He had lost me by then. Obviously, Abouti was not going to go to the trouble and expense of a move on to government land without the usual written directive from the Ministry. I did not see how Michael could possibly get one for the car-battery project at that stage. The joint-venture with the Italians had still to be approved.

The conversation ended with expressions of mutual respect and goodwill and undertakings on Michael's part to produce the directive within a day or two.

He hung up at last and smiled spitefully at the telephone. 'Hooked and loving every minute of it,' he said.

'How are you going to get the directive?'

'Somehow.'

'From Hawa?'

'Who else?' He looked at me apologetically. 'I'm sorry, Teresa. I'm afraid it means having him to dinner.'

He knew that I disliked those evenings; he disliked them himself. Like many other educated Syrians, Dr Hawa was ambivalent on the subject of female emanc.i.p.ation. In theory he approved; in practice it made him uneasy. Although Michael had been allowed to meet Dr Hawa's wife briefly he had always known that an invitation to the villa that included her would not be accepted; so none had ever been issued. Though I, naturally, thought that my presence and status in the household was the stumbling-block, Michael had always denied this. Hawa wasn't a prude, he said; it was just that he was an Arab and felt more at ease on social occasions in all-male company. He also liked to drink alcohol and in that sort of privacy could do so. Being Dr Hawa, of course, he also liked the other guests to be of subordinate status so that he could dominate the proceedings. He was most relaxed, however, in solitary tete-a-tete with Michael who would always respond to his genial bullying with the kind of subtle impudence that Hawa seemed to find entertaining. He was the king, Michael the licensed fool.

Sometimes on these occasions I used to do what the Muslim women did in their homes; that is, listen in an adjoining room, through one of the decorated grilles which had been put there originally for that purpose; but the conversation was mostly so boring, or, especially when a lot of brandy had been drunk, infuriating, that generally I went off to bed and left them to it.

This time, though, I was determined not to miss a word.

It was on the evening of the day on which we had received Ghaled's approval of the fuse adapter ring sample, and the order had gone to the Beirut machine shop for a hundred more. It seemed to me that we had just made it possible for a hundred explosions to take place and the thought was depressing. I desperately wanted Michael to succeed with Hawa. So far all we had done was help Ghaled in his plan to kill a lot of people; and though our putting a survey team into the battery works wouldn't be likely to stop him, at least it might hinder and obstruct him. It would be something. Besides, as Michael says, you never know about pressure. Just a little of it can sometimes do a lot-not perhaps directly, but by slightly changing the value of some small unknown in the equation.

The declared purpose of these evenings ci deux was backgammon, to be played by two well-matched and practised opponents; but Dr Hawa's real reason for coming to the villa was to pick Michael's brains and pump him for information. Someone once said that if you wanted to know what is going on in Damascus you must inquire in Beirut. In a funny way it's true, and not only of Damascus. Information is an especially valuable commodity in the Middle East and Michael's sources were not confined to Beirut. The Agence Howell had fingers in a great many pies and representatives doing business in a great many places. Naturally, along with the credit reports, the trend a.s.sessments and the accounts of compet.i.tors' activities, came much news - and gossip and rumour-that was political as well as commercial in character. Sometimes Dr Hawa would ask specific questions, but usually, as the dice clattered and the pieces clicked, he would hint vaguely at the area of current interest to him and leave Michael to do the talking.

It began like that on this evening. Dr Hawa was curious about Iran and the latest proposals of a Soviet trade delegation. He scarcely spoke at all, giving only an occasional grunt to indicate that Michael still had his attention.

From Teheran they switched to Ankara and from there to the newly independent Bahrein. It was at that point that Michael fell silent.

The next thing I heard was a short laugh from Dr Hawa and an exclamation of disgust from Michael.

There was another laugh from Dr Hawa. 'I have never seen you make such a mistake as that before,' he crowed. 'Didn't you see your chance?'

'No, Minister, I didn't see it.'

Michael still called Dr Hawa 'Minister', even in his own house; it was a thing that had always irritated me. He sounded now as penitent as a schoolboy caught out by a feared master.

'You were not concentrating."

'No, I was not. I am sorry.'

'Do not apologise. The dice were kind to you and you ignored them. They do not like such impoliteness. Take care, Michael, or I shall go home rich.'

'Yes, yes. A little more brandy, Minister.'

'Ah, you wish to dull my perception. Very well. But you had better drink no more."

'The truth is, Minister, that I am not myself this evening.'

'That is evident. The digestion perhaps? The liver?'

'I am, I must confess, a little worried.'

'You, worried?' A scoffing sound. 'I have yet to see this.

Unless, of course, there is a new woman. That must be it You Christians make such fools of yourselves.'

'Not a woman, Minister. But I refuse to bore you with any troubles.' Bravely this. 'You are here to be amused, not to talk business.'

'True. Then let us play. Let me see the score. Ah yes, this is very good. Now watch yourself, Michael. I am in an attacking mood.'

They played in silence for a minute or two. Then Dr Hawa said casually: This business that worries you-does it concern any of our cooperatives?'

'On no.' Michael spoke quickly and then seemed to hesitate. 'That is, I am not sure."

There was the sound of a dice cup being slammed down on to the table, by Dr Hawa presumably, and in exasperation.

'It is not often, Michael, that I hear you talk foolishly.'

'What I meant was that none of the existing cooperatives is concerned, Minister. What I fear is threatened is the battery transition plan.'

'That is quibbling. What is the matter with you?'

'The battery transition plan is still only a plan, Minister.' Michael sounded desperately unhappy; the Armenian bazaar trader was wringing his hands in anguish. 'Paper, nothing more. There are no firm commitments, it is not yet a living thing. The child may be still-born.'

'The plans are already with the Minister of Finance. What is this nonsense?'