The Levanter Part 22

'I see.'

'I am only guessing.' He grinned. "The mechanic suggested that the trouble might be with the ignition.'

'Oh.'

'Yes. That was when I got rid of him. I don't think he can have done any real damage, but after that I knew he wasn't going to do any good. The fis.h.i.+ng boats he is used to all have petrol engines. I found that out later."

'What about the owners in Jeble. Won't they help?'

'We are the owners, or rather comrade Salah is.'

'I had the impression that she'd been chartered.'

'We bought her cheap. Too cheap.' He tapped his chest. 'It is my fault entirely. I have told this to comrade Salah. He is always tolerant of error when a comrade confesses it freely to him. I should have antic.i.p.ated this trouble. She is the right size for the job, but that engine is twenty years old and we have overworked it.'

'The trips north?'

He nodded. 'Never under sail. Engine all the time. No maintenance to speak of either. What can you expect? Of course, it would have to happen now, but better now than later. Do you want to see it?'

There was a separate hatchway and a ladder down to the 'engine room'. Originally, I suppose, it had been part of the after hold s.p.a.ce. A bulkhead had been added to make a compartment for the auxiliary, but it had been made as small as possible. There was scarcely room to move and the place stank; but although everything else was filthy, the engine wasn't. There may have been no maintenance to speak of, but there hadn't been total neglect.

'What did she give you?' I asked; 'before the pump started going wrong, I mean.'

'Six knots. Sometimes a little more.' He pointed the flashlight beam. 'There's the old pump.'

It was on an oil drum chocked against the bulkhead. I wasn't really interested in the old pump, but I made a show of looking at it.

'Have you an engineer?'

'One of the crew knows enough to act as a greaser, but he's ash.o.r.e now. Except for the old man on anchor watch they're all ash.o.r.e. Comrade Salah's orders. One of them might have recognised you and started talk.'

'You'd better send them ash.o.r.e tomorrow, too. I'm going to try to get a foreman fitter down from Latakia to attend to the engine. It may be tomorrow or the day after but you'll be kept advised. His name is Maghout.'

'A comrade?'

'No, but he won't ask questions or talk. If the job's simple he'll just do it and go. I'm hoping it's simple, but he could still need odd spares, gaskets or something like that. He'll have been forewarned of the nature of the problem, but I'll take the type and serial numbers of the engine. They may give him an idea of what he ought to bring with him.'

He turned his light on the clip-board. 'I had expected that you would need that information.'

'You have it there? Good.'

He tore the top sheet off the clip-board and handed it to me with a little bow.

'I could not ask comrade Howell to crawl about this engine room on his hands and knees looking for numbers.'

'Very thoughtful of you, comrade.'

I glanced at the paper and he shone the light on it. The information was all there - written in purple ink. I folded the paper and put it in my pocket before climbing back up the ladder.

Hadaya was behind me and stopped to close and secure the engine compartment hatch, so I strolled forward along the deck. Although I had seen the bottom-burning done I had never actually been aboard a Rouad schooner and I was curious. She had no wheel but an enormous tiller. I was remembering my father telling me that in heavy weather two helmsmen were not enough and that they had to rig relieving-tackles to hold the s.h.i.+p on course, when I stumbled and stubbed my toe.

What I had stumbled over was a heavy bulk of timber which had been bolted to the deck. A metre away and parallel to it was a second one. Both were about two metres long and the work was new; the bolts that held them hadn't even begun to rust. And there were freshly drilled holes in them as yet unused. A shadow fell and I looked up. Bearers for deck cargo,' Hadaya said.

He kept a perfectly straight face as he said it, so I just nodded. Forward of the cargo hatch I could now see a second pair of 'bearers'.

'There is a place in the town where we could eat if you wish,' he went on.

'Is that wise?'

'Wise?'

'I was thinking of comrade Salah's orders about my being recognised. No, it will be better if I go straight back, comrade Hadaya. There is a lot of telephoning to be done and I have to report later to comrade Salah.'

'Then I must not detain you.'

He walked with me to the car. I learned on the way that my guess about his being Algerian had been correct, that he had served as a cadet officer with Messageries Maritimes and that none of his subsequent sea-going appointments had lasted very long. There was bitterness behind the smile. He had been recruited personally by Ghaled for the PAF gun-running operation and was devoted to him; and, of course, to the Palestinian cause. A curious young man; not quite a mercenary but near to it.

As soon as I arrived home, I telephoned Issa and gave the necessary instructions on the subject of Maghout. Even if my newly formed suspicions were justified there was no way of stalling the engine repair. Ghaled already knew Maghout's name and place of work. If I didn't follow-through promptly, he would do so himself; and I would have become suspect. I could not afford that. Unless I managed to retain some measure of his confidence during the critical days ahead I would be helpless.

After the telephoning I got out the chart he had given me and studied it again, along with the sheet of paper from Hadaya's clipboard.

The purple ink used was the same and so was the writing. The course changes then had been plotted by Hadaya.

That was point one. By itself there would have been nothing particularly sinister about it; things would have been no worse than they already were. But it was not by itself.

There was point two. The speed of the Amalia while steaming close to the Israeli sh.o.r.eline would be six knots. Six knots was the standard speed, when running on her engine, of the Jeble 5.

There was point three. The sort of deck cargo that it would be possible to load on to a small vessel like the Jeble 5 could not conceivably need lengths of four-by-four bolted to the deck to support it. Therefore, they had been installed to support, or hold down, something else. What? The Jeble 5 already had a full cargo in her hold.

Point four: there was that second track which had not been completely erased from the chart.

I remembered what Barlev had told me about the 200-mm. Katyusha rocket: fifty kilo warhead, range of about eleven kilometres, the launcher a simple affair and easy to make with angle-iron -'They don't mind leaving it behind them when they run.'

Presumably they would not mind dropping it into the sea when they'd finished with it either. All they would have to do would be to remove it from the 'bearers' and heave it overboard.

I looked again at the second track and recalled then something that Ghaled had said when I had been arguing him out of using the Euridice. Speaking of the s.h.i.+p I would provide for him instead, he had told me, 'It must be an iron s.h.i.+p and no smaller than the Euridice Howell.'

At the time, I had dismissed the 'iron' qualifications as an exhibition of ignorance. It had been years since the Agence Howell had owned s.h.i.+ps made of anything else. Now, however, I wondered. It could have been a slip of the tongue, an indiscretion.

Jeble 5 was of all-wood construction. Unless she had one of those special radar reflectors that wooden yachts are beginning to carry now, she wouldn't show up clearly on a coastal radar screen. However, metal objects, particularly if they were carried on her deck, might act as reflectors. In that case, the best way for her to approach the Tel Aviv-Yafo area un.o.bserved would be to use her engine to motor along on the same course and speed as, but just beyond and masked by, a larger iron or steel vessel. As far as the coastal radar was concerned Jeble 5 would then be invisible.

The Katyusha's range was eleven kilometres. From ten kilometres off-sh.o.r.e Jeble 5 could do a lot of damage. I had no idea what the rate of fire might be, but there would be two launchers on her deck. I had made a hundred adapter rings, so there would be no shortage of ammunition. Even if each launcher fired only ten rounds before the schooner turned away and the crew began jettisoning the launchers, there would have been a thousand kilos of high-explosive discharged.

According to Barlev, one Katyusha hit on a hospital had killed ten persons. Well, there were a lot of hospital-size buildings cl.u.s.tered along the Tel Aviv beaches. Some had names like Hilton, Sheraton, Park and Dan, but there were apartment buildings as well as hotels, and all so thick on the ground that, even with rockets fired from a s.h.i.+p at sea, a high percentage of direct hits could be expected.

All this, of course, was to be in addition to the charges already set to be exploded ash.o.r.e.

I had told Ghaled that his plan was ingenious. I hadn't really thought it so. There is nothing ingenious about a bomb in a suitcase, or a flight bag. Killing or maiming non-combatants who can't defend themselves is an easy game. All that is needed to play it, apart from the high-explosive, is a touch of megalomania fortified by the delusion that campaigns of terror can end in happiness ever after.

The novelty of Ghaled's plan was not in the nature of it, but in its size. A lot of bombs going off together in a number of locations would probably cause some panic as well as heavy casualties. A simultaneous bombardment from the sea would add confusion as well as further destruction. If the operation were even partially successful, Ghaled could count on international headlines. The smiles of the other Palestinian leaders might be forced, and their congratulations less than whole-hearted; but smiles there would be and congratulations too. The PAF would have become a force to reckon with politically.

Meanwhile the Israelis would be burying the dead, and, no doubt, considering the nature of their reprisal.

I sat there for a long time, feeling sick and trying to think.

There was no way of letting Barlev know about this second part of the plan. In my anxiety to make sure that he knew about the first part I had, by sending Teresa to Rome, closed down my only safe and clear channel of communication.

I could send a cryptic wire to Famagusta and try to alert him that way; but in order to get past Colonel s.h.i.+kla's monitors it would have to be very cryptic indeed. I could not be in any way explicit. The most I could hope to convey would be a hint that all was not quite as had been expected.

I had no idea at that.moment what form the hint could take.

And there was Captain Touzani to be considered.

It was one thing to give a captain a rather unusual set of instructions, and then tell him in confidence that if, as a result of his carrying them out, he got into a little argument with the Israeli navy not to worry; that he would under no circ.u.mstances be blamed or censured and could count on a nice bonus later. Admittedly, I had not been looking forward to telling him all that; but I had been prepared to do so. What I was not prepared to do, however, was, while giving him those unusual instructions, then neglect to warn him that in carrying them out he, a Tunisian, would find himself steaming in company with, and virtually escorting, an armed vessel all set to bombard Tel Aviv with rockets right under, or possibly right over, his very nose. That I could not do.

What I could have done, of course, was to tell Captain Touzani the whole truth and hope that, with a devil-may-care wave of his hand, he would relieve me of all the responsibilities created by the situation. I could have done that; but I didn't seriously consider it. Captain Touzani's early career may have been a trifle colourful, and under some circ.u.mstances I can see him cutting a corner or two; but he is a rational man, a realist. If I had wanted his instant resignation, taking him into my confidence would have been the way to get it; and his officers would have fully supported his stand.

So, I took the only other course open to me.

Ghaled was in a good mood when I arrived that evening.

Chantier Naval Cayla had proved accommodating. Mag-hout's immediate boss had very quickly sized up the situation and no overt threats had been necessary. The PAF squad leader in Latakia had reported that Maghout would go to Harreissoun the following day to attend to the fuel pump, and would stay with the job until it was satisfactorily completed.

Ghaled was so pleased that he even praised me, and I had difficulty in getting him off that subject and on to the one that now concerned me. He mistook my air of gloom for modesty, and, when I disclaimed that, accused me again of arrogance.

'Comrade Michael does not need our praise,' he told Issa. 'His own self-praise is enough.'

I was suddenly tired of his nonsense. I discarded the oblique approach and went at it crudely.

'One who certainly merits praise,' I said, 'is comrade Hadaya.'

'You found that young man interesting?'

I ignored the leer. 'He has good judgement. He made a mistake about the local mechanic and when he realised that he had done so he acted to correct it. Some men would have tried to muddle through and cover up the mistake. I was glad to see that he didn't.'

'He will be commended, never fear.'

'One thing he said struck me particularly. It was about you, comrade Salah.'

That secured his attention. 'Indeed?'

'He said you were always tolerant of error when a comrade freely confessed it to you.'

'Concealment of error is despicable and can amount to betrayal. Candid self-criticism earns respect.'

'I am relieved to hear you say it, comrade Salah.'

He became jocular. 'Why? Has the immaculate comrade Michael something to confess?'

'Yes, comrade Salah.'

He looked at me sharply. 'Well?'

'An error of judgement.'

'What error?'

I glanced at Issa as if I were unwilling to let him hear of my shame. 'It is in the matter of the Tunisian.'

I eyed Issa again and Ghaled took the hint. He motioned to Issa to leave.

'Now then, what is this? Speak up.'

'I think that I underestimated the problem presented by Captain Touzani.'

'What problem? The owner gives him his orders. He, your captain, carries them out.'

'Regrettably, comrade Salah, it is not as straightforward as that. There has been a development which I should have foreseen but did not.'

'What development? Speak plainly.'

I told him in some detail about the method I had used to delay the Amalia in Tripoli. His face cleared. I had used capitalist low-cunning; I had corrupted. He liked that.

'However,' I went on, 'there have been unfortunate repercussions. I hear from Ancona that Captain Touzani has complained bitterly of administrative inefficiency in the Agence Howell, of blunders at the top causing delays and losses for which he is now being held responsible. Our agents in Tripoli and Ancona were not as tactful as they might have been. There has been ill-feeling "and injured pride. Now, when Captain Touzani arrives in Latakia in two days time, he is going to be confronted with yet another unusual situation. He is going to be ordered to take pa.s.sengers, and, en route to Alexandria, make a detour at sea which will obviously delay his arrival there. Almost certainly he will object vigorously to these orders.'

'Then dismiss him. Get another captain.'

That is not practical, I am afraid, comrade Salah. The mate on the Amalia does not hold a master's ticket and even if he did there would be difficulties. Captain Touzani is popular with his crew.'

'Are you telling me that this man will and can refuse to obey the owner's orders?'

'I am saying that he may accept them only under protest and with private reservations. These Tunisians can be very stubborn.'

His mouth thinned. 'Stubborn? We have comrades who know how to deal with the stubborn, comrade Michael. Give me your Tunisian for half an hour. He will not be stubborn after that I promise you.'

'Unfortunately that is not a practical solution either, comrade Salah. Captain Touzani will remain in his snip with his crew. Besides, as a captain he has special legal powers and privileges that not even the police can ignore. Punishment of Captain .Touzani might well result in the Amalia not sailing as planned. What we need from Touzani is not resentful submission but ready and willing cooperation.'

'That is your affair. I warned you. You have had ample time. Yours is the responsibility.'

'And I have accepted it, comrade Salah. But in order to secure Captain Touzani's cooperation I need authority from you for a slight change of plan.'

'What change?'

'When the Amalia sails I must be on board.'

He was silent for a moment. Then he said: 'Impossible.'

'May I ask why, comrade Salah? Captain Touzani is in charge but he must defer to me as owner. n.o.body could censure him for delays occurring that I had sanctioned while we were at sea. With me on board at the captain's side there would be no question of his withholding cooperation, I a.s.sure you.'