They easily found the turn-off to the property, the road cutting a swathe through the cedar forest. Seymour pulled the car off onto a sidetrack, penetrating the forest until he was certain it could not be seen from the road. Hiram’s property was still at least a mile farther, which would have to be travelled on foot through the forest. They were appropriately dressed, both in black with black balaclavas and hiking boots. Seymour had a compass which he consulted before they took off.
After about forty-five minutes, avoiding trees, thickets and gullies, their progress was stopped by a high steel-mesh fence, the top of which was electrified, the white insulators visible on the fence poles. From the fence, all trees and brush had been cleared, the area flat providing an unrestricted view of the bungalow. It was at quite a distance, the mist hampering their vision. The bungalow glowed in the light mist, the interior lights already on. It was built on the foot of a steep mountain.
From his haversack, Bartlett removed a tripod and attached a powerful night telescope to it. He peered through the instrument for a few minutes, making adjustments. He then drew away indicating the Seymour should look.
‘Have a dekko. It’s difficult with this fog,’ Bartlett said.
Seymour looked and was amazed at the detail the telescope revealed. The scope was powerful, the building now close-up. He ignored the building and swung the telescope round, slowly traversing the entire property. Soon he found what he was looking for. The property was well-guarded, with four men patrolling the house. He knew it would not be possible to approach the house without being observed. This could only give rise to a gun battle, which he knew he had to avoid at all costs and complicated matters. How were they going to get to the couple without being observed? Of course, this was assuming Tusk and the woman were on the property but a nagging feeling told him it was so. The number of guards indicated that the bungalow contained something of importance.
Seymour prepared himself for a long night. He wasn’t leaving until he knew the reason for the guards: it had to be Tusk. They would take turns keeping the house under surveillance.
‘Have a look at this!’ the young man said, his eye glued to the telescope.
Seymour had dozed off. He got to his feet and peered through the scope. The first thing which struck him was that the sliding doors from the lounge to the porch were open, the lights from the interior illuminating the porch. He could dimly discern three people standing outside, one of whom was smoking. He realised that they were two men and a woman. His first reaction was Hiram, Tusk and his woman.
‘Christ! It’s them,’ he said.
‘Can you recognise them?’ Bartlett asked.
‘No, not really, it’s too dark, but I’m certain it’s them,’ Seymour replied excitedly.
Just then, the woman strode back into the lounge. She was briefly illuminated by the inside light as she approached the door. There was no mistaking the blonde hair and the exceptional beauty of the woman.
‘Okay, it’s them. At least we now know where they are,’ Seymour said. ‘Let’s get out of here before we are discovered. There’s only one road that leads to the property. We’ll set up a surveillance team. I want it in place before morning with a radio link to the embassy. Everything that comes or goes from here must be reported immediately. I also want a team monitoring the highway from here, that is, the Damascus-to-Beirut highway. They’re to position themselves on the outskirts of Beirut just before it enters the built-up area. Get hold of a large truck so that this can be used to block the road. Find an ideal position. This winding road should provide a number of positions.’
Bartlett had removed the telescope and started to collapse the tripod when they suddenly heard the sound of an approaching engine in the distance.
‘What’s that?’ Seymour asked.
‘It’s a bloody aircraft. It’s pretty low,’ Bartlett replied, looking up at the night sky.
The mist had lifted and already the first stars could be seen. Suddenly, two strings of blue lights lit up demarcating a short runaway, which started near the fence where the two men were until well past the bungalow. Seymour now realised why the three has come out on to the porch. The aircraft whooshed low over their heads, its landing light stabbing ahead of it, and settled softly onto the ground. It was a four-seater Cessna 180 capable of an extraordinarily low flying speed, an aircraft specifically designed to operate out of short runways. This runway was short, , cut out of the side of the hill below the bungalow.
‘Now that complicates matters,’ Seymour mused, ‘Get the telescope out, I want to see who has arrived.’
Within minutes, the telescope was mounted, Seymour staring through the lens at the two people who had disembarked from the aircraft. They walked to the bungalow and climbed the stairs to the porch.
‘One of them is the pilot. The other is in uniform. I don’t know what uniform that is but it’s naval. He has a number of rings on the wrist. A ship’s captain, I think,’ Seymour said, ‘I wonder what a ship captain is doing here? Memorise that aircraft’s registration number, I need to know to whom that aircraft belongs. Okay, I don’t think anything else will happen tonight. Let’s go’
Seymour did not know that the pilot still sat in the aircraft. The civilian who had exited was not the pilot.
CHAPTER 44
They all sat in the lounge. The bank official had found the flight in a light aircraft at night terrifying and had not quite recovered from the ordeal. He produced a sheaf of documents from his briefcase, which he had handed to David. David perused these and then signed wherever indicated. Once done, he handed these back.
‘Is that the lot?’ David asked.
‘Oui, Monsieur,’ replied the clerk, with a slight stammer.
‘Well that does it, Hussein, the money is yours,’ David said, glad that he no longer needed to concern himself. This was now finalised.
‘I have a condition,’ Hiram said. All eyes swivelled to rest on him. He addressed the bank official, ‘This money is to remain in the account it currently is in until such time that I notify you.’
‘But sir, what about the interest? You would stand to lose a large sum of money?’ the official stammered.
‘Don’t let that concern you, I’ve my reasons. Can this be done?’
‘Of course, sir. We will await your instructions.’
Once they were alone, David addressed Hiram, ‘Why are you doing this? It doesn’t make sense!’
‘I’m sure MI6 has inside information on what happens in the banks. Let them think the deal is not yet concluded. They won’t dare touch the helicopters and they can’t touch the money,’ he replied with a mischievous smile.
No matter what, David felt relieved. The money transaction had been concluded.
‘You seemed relieved, well that makes two of us. I can’t wait to get rid of those crates in my warehouse,’ Hiram said. He then called the bank official close, ‘Please don’t forget to express my thanks to your director for permitting the matter to be settled in such an unorthodox manner.’
‘I will, Monsieur,’ the man replied.
Hiram turned to the man in uniform who stood to one side, evident that he had no interest in the financial transaction. He was in his late forties, his hair peppered with grey. He had removed his cap, which he now had tucked under his arm.
‘Captain, I do believe that at last you can load the crates I have in my warehouse.’
The captain’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. ‘Thank God, I can’t have my ship hanging around in Beirut harbour much longer. I’m running out of excuses. My engineer can’t understand why I’ve wanted to carry out these minor repairs in Beirut and not South Africa. I’ll have my ship alongside tomorrow night.’
‘Excellent!’ Hiram said, taking a sip from his drink and looking at David, ‘I take it the papers – the bills of lading, and certificates of origin, and the rest – will be ready by tomorrow night?’
‘Yes, the forwarding agents in Beirut will attend to this. They have already bee
n briefed.’ He hesitated. ‘You’re releasing the goods before payment?’ David blurted, his surprise evident.
‘Don’t worry, I’m certainly not concerned.’ Hussein gave him a look of appraisal, ‘Good, then I suggest that the pilot fly these two gentlemen back to Beirut tonight.’
The bank official paled. ‘Tonight?’
‘‘It’s perfectly safe, don’t concern yourself but it is better that you leave tonight,’ Hiram said, no mistaking the finality in his voice.
A half-hour later, the Cessna roared down the short runway and took to the sky.
The two men stood on the porch watching the aircraft disappear.
‘What are your plans?’ Hiram asked, staring in the darkness.
‘I just want to get out of Beirut, for reasons you can imagine. The ship should be alongside tomorrow and I’ll visit the warehouse to ensure that the cargo is loaded. The British don’t know how we propose to get the helicopters out of Lebanon. They probably don’t even know where they are stored. Once I see the last of the crates aboard, my companion and I will wish you au revoir. Only, I don’t think we’ll be back for a while.’ He knew he would not be seeing Hiram again if he could help it. He had killed a man. Admittedly, this may have only been in self-defence. Yet that was enough reason never to return.
‘The police could be looking for you, not to mention MI6.’
‘We’ve got new identities which we will assume before we leave. We’ll leave during the course of the morning. However, I do have one favour to ask. I need another set of wheels. We can’t use the 190SL. The police could be looking for it.’
‘No problem. You can use my Mercedes,’ Hussein said, flicking his cigarette stub into the garden below.
‘Thank you.’
CHAPTER 45
Backed by a first-class communications network, Seymour’s men took up their allotted positions placing both the bungalow and the highway under constant surveillance, able to call up assistance at a moment’s notice. He wasn’t about to take any chances. This time the two were not getting away. No one had slept during the night. Now he allowed his men, one at a time, a short sleep break. Vigilance was constant. One slept in the car the other keeping watch, ready to react immediately.
Although both the British and the Lebanese governments did their utmost to keep the shooting at the hotel under wraps, Britain came forward to give the Lebanese government an explanation as to what had happened. This had created a diplomatic uproar. They were now aware of the two Rhodesian agents, as these were referred to, as well as the fact that payment had been transacted in their country for the purchase of helicopters in defiance of a UN trade embargo. The Lebanese refused to involve themselves in the helicopters or the money exchange as no law appeared to have been broken and therefore, if such a transaction had taken place, it could not be construed as illegal. In addition, they were not about to search warehouses or ships. They would only consider this if the British could provide concrete evidence. The shooting was another matter entirely. Hiram was in the clear, not so David and Gisela. Their description was circulated to the police with instructions that they were to be apprehended but with a request that violence be avoided, if possible.
A South African merchantman had docked alongside the warehouse during the night, moored astern of the old Liberty ship. Instructions had been communicated to other forwarding agents and already other cargo was on its way to Hiram’s warehouse where it would assembled, to be loaded together with the knockdown helicopters, designed to look as innocuous as possible.
CHAPTER 46
They rose early, dressing in fresh clothes brought by Hiram’s men from the hotel. Breakfast was light, no more than a cup of coffee and a croissant each. David wanted to be on the road as soon as possible. They piled their stuff into the Mercedes’ trunk and profusely thanked Marcel, Hiram’s right-hand man for their help and hospitality.
They shook hands.
‘Please, you must be careful. The police are on the lookout. Try and restrict your driving to a minimum, keep off the main roads,’ the man said.
‘I will,’ David replied taking the proffered car keys from the man.
He was taking no chances. He drove with his automatic resting on his lap while Gisela had placed hers on the seat next to her thigh.
If the police apprehended them, it would be just their bad luck. That they had been targeted was obvious and had merely acted in self-defence. That much must already be clear to the police, based on the evidence they would have found at the hotel and their own enquiries. They both were convinced that the British had not yet finished with them. Why the attempt to kill them? Although he thought it difficult to believe, he thought that MI6 had been cleared to take whatever action they considered appropriate to eliminate him. He played a key role in Rhodesia’s sanctions-busting efforts and the British thought it imperative that they be stopped, even if this included murder. By now they would have realised that Gisela was involved, she his operative assistant and, no doubt, if caught in the crossfire they would consider her collateral damage.
Keeping a sharp lookout, he drove slowly along the track, which tunnelled through the tall cedars, suddenly coming on to the main road between Damascus and Beirut. The lodge was near Shtawrah, which was no more than fifteen miles from the Syrian border. He swung right onto the highway and speeded up until the car was moving just above the legal speed limit of 100 kph.
CHAPTER 47
Their departure had not gone unobserved. The surveillance team immediately reported to Seymour who lost no time and departed the embassy with Bartlett in tow, driving to where the planned blockade of the highway was to take place. His men were armed and instructed that in the event of any resistance they were free to fire. The team selected to erect the roadblock were issued with two Heckler & Koch machine pistols. He realised that he was stretching a point and if a gun battle ensued all hell would break loose, giving rise to another diplomatic incident with him in the middle, but instructions were instructions and this was not his concern.
Seymour had chosen the spot to blockade the highway well. It was a cutting through a hill with sheer rock faces on both sides of the road. He proposed to use a truck. The vehicle was a large articulated flat-deck comprising a truck-tractor and flat-deck trailer. This was to be parked across the highway, leaving a small gap between the truck and the rock face of the cutting, which would allow motor vehicles to pass the stalled truck. Any vehicle wanting to pass would have to slow down to a crawl in order to navigate the obstacles. They would delay blocking the road until the last minute and only when David was nearly on them. Seymour hoped that it would take a few minutes before the Lebanese gendarmes responded to any alarms that others might raise. The cutting was in a valley, which ensured that any vehicle coming from the direction of Damascus came upon the truck right after a short rise. He surmised this would give them very little opportunity to U-turn the vehicle before his men could respond. He placed a man at the top of the rise, suitably armed, who was to warn them of David’s approach. The police remained a major concern. The area around was populated, a homestead every few hundred yards apart. The populace was bound to hear any gunfire and phone the police.
Seymour brought the Jaguar to halt alongside the truck, which had parked on the verge of the road.
His men were dressed in overalls to avoid raising any suspicion. He and Bartlett had dressed casually with open-necked shirts. The windbreakers were necessary to conceal their weapons.
The man in charge approached Seymour, a hand-held radio at the ready. ‘They are about ten minutes away. They’re driving a white Mercedes coupe, a 250SE,’ the man said, slightly out of breath.
Seymour nodded.
‘All right, get the truck started and ready move on my signal,’ he barked.
The driver started the engine, revving it to ensure the air pressure remained high so the brakes released when he was required to move the vehicle. The rest of the four took up concealed positions behind two cars and a r
ock outcrop on the side of the road. All had drawn their weapons.
The man in charge pointed to the top of the hill. ‘The man at the top has the car in sight. They’ll come over the top any minute now,’ he said.
Seymour checked for traffic. There was none.
‘Okay, move the truck,’ he shouted and walked onto the road indicating where he wanted the truck to stand.
The truck’s engine roared as it pulled away from the verge and crossed the road, stopping where indicated with a sharp squeal of brakes. The driver stepped from the cab and got ready to start waving his arms at any oncoming traffic warning them of the danger, this the usual thing to do in the event of a breakdown and hoping that this would not immediately make David suspicious, or so Seymour hoped.
CHAPTER 48
The Mercedes slid over the rise. He saw the truck parked across the road, a man dressed in a blue overall in front of it, waving his arms. He took his foot off the accelerator, allowing the car to coast. He saw two cars parked on the side of the road behind the truck. He decided not to drive right up to the truck. He braked harshly, bringing the car to a stop on the verge, about three hundred yards from the truck.
‘Why are you stopping?’ Gisela asked.
‘I don’t know what’s going on down there, but I’m not taking a chance. It may be a real breakdown but the spot’s well chosen. It blocks the road. I don’t like that,’ he replied and then looked out to the side to make sure he could make a U-turn.
Before leaving the bungalow, they had studied a road map of Lebanon and acquainted themselves with the various routes that led either to Beirut or to Tyre. Tyre was a port farther south down the coast. If he backtracked, he could turn south at Ain Dara and take an alternative route. There were a number of options, too many to monitor, or so he thought. The British would need a small army of men.
The Blockade Runners Page 23
