Stopping World War Three

by Stan Mason

  ‘How do we get to Tel Aviv from here?’ I asked my secretary.

  ‘We take a plane to Ben Gurion Airport,’ she advised me. ‘It’s necessary to come in by that route otherwise we might get shot down by Israeli artillery as a suspected invader. You can’t be too careful out here, you know.’

  ‘Why not?’ I commented flippantly. ‘Everything else has happened since Primar came on the scene. Why not get shot down this time?’

  Commander Yasood came towards us to bid us farewell. He took me aside to whisper discreetly in my ear. ‘Between you and me and these rock walls,’ he whispered softly, ‘take care. We expect a lot from you. And watch out for Primar, I have a strong suspicion about his loyalty, Be very very careful!’

  As we departed, Penny could hardly contain her curiosity. ‘What did he say to you?’ she asked sweetly.

  ‘You’ll find out in due course,’ I riposted, taking revenge for her reluctance to answer my earlier question. ‘In due course!’

  ***

  Within an hour we were back in the air again. I sat at the port window staring down at the desert. Strangely enough, I was wondering where my wife was at that particular moment and with whom she might be. Despite my illicit affair with Penny, I still loved her dearly. My thoughts were probably a reaction from being angry at my secretary rebuffing me earlier and for her duplicity in this whole situation. Either that or I wasn’t anything as hard-hearted as Jan had described me in her letter. If that had been the case, I would have been able to exorcise her from my mind altogether by now... but I could not do so nor did I want to do so.

  ‘A penny for your thoughts.’ offered my secretary, bringing me back to the real world again.

  ‘What do you want from me, Penny?’ I demanded irately. ‘Look you can talk all you like about Islam, the Crusades and World War Three. I won’t even be around when it happens in fifty years’ time!’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ she countered. ‘It’s your duty to do something to save the world in the future. It matters little whether you’re around or not. You need to be on our side.

  ‘I don’t take sides,’ I retorted sharply. ‘I never take sides! God help the people who worry about the starving millions in Africa and Asia, those who collect money for such charities, those who would give their last pennies to widows and orphans! I tell you straight. This 21st Century Crusaders thing is not for me. Who knows? Maybe oil won’t run out in the Middle East. Maybe Islam will find a way out of their dilemma if it happens. It’s not my business!’

  ‘It’s money, isn’t it!’ Her lip curled in anger as she faced me directly. ‘Money’s the only thing you’re interested in! The disappointment stemming from my remarks showed in her face.

  ‘Look,’ I responded, calming down a little. ‘There are three things important to me in life at present. Me, you and playing bridge. Money doesn’t come into it.’

  She calmed down at my words and sat sullenly for a moment without speaking. The she sat up in her seat and found her voice. ‘If you feel anything for me you’ll co-operate.’

  I shrugged my shoulders at her attempt to blackmail me emotionally. ‘Sure... I’ll co-operate. I said me, you and playing bridge. I wouldn’t let you down. Just don’t expect me to have the same feeling for your cause, that’s all!’

  ***

  After touching down at Ben Gurion Airport we passed through immigration and hired a taxi to take us into Tel Aviv. The journey lasted twenty minutes and allowed me to take my first view of a country which for so long had been the battleground to a war of attrition. As we travelled along the well-built road I considered it to be a far cry from the references in the Holy Bible. Although there were still large tracts of desert. I was surprised to note fertile areas and modern concrete establishments among the barren terrain. There were also scattered farmlands on either side of the highway. Many fields were cultivated and occasionally the vehicle passed close to a village sheltered by a hill adorned with cypresses, old pines and casuarina trees. For a while we passed some citrus orchards and then arrived in Tel Aviv itself. The city comprised a mixture of young and old. New buildings and business developments indicated the dynamism to expand. On the other hand, a great deal of care had been taken to ensure that no feature of history, whether biblical or mediaeval was affected or damaged. I noticed that many ancient sites had been preserved clearly in an effort to maintain national heritage.

  ‘Where to now?’ asked the taxi driver in a New York accent. 98

  ‘Arlosoroff Road,’ I informed him.

  ‘Your first time in Tel Aviv, eh?’ he went on, turning the vehicle in the right direction.

  ‘Yes... the first time. What’s that great square tower?’ I pointed through the open window of the cab.

  The driver didn’t need to follow the direction of my hand. ‘In English it’s known as the Tower of the Forty after the forty followers of Mohammed. It was built in the thirteen hundreds by the Egyptian Mameluke sultans.’

  ‘But they were Arabs, weren’t they?’ I challenged, puzzled by his reply. ‘How is it that the Jews who are the bitter enemies of the Arabs protect a monument which embodies the spirit of the other religion?’

  ‘You know very little about us,’ he explained shortly. ‘The Jews and Arabs are both of the Semitic race. Brothers under the skin. We’re the clever ones; they’re the lucky ones.’

  ‘Why lucky?’ I enquired, intrigued to know the answer.

  ‘Why lucky?’ he repeated aimlessly. ‘If Moses had turned right instead of left when he led the Children of Israel out of Egypt we would have had the oil as well. But then you can’t have every- thing in life, can you? We’re passing King Solomon Road. You’ve heard of King Solomon, eh? It’s not far now. We have to turn off here to Arlosoroff Road. Say... while you’re in the cab, do you want a quick tour of the city or a cruise along the sea front? It’s the Mediterranean, you know.’

  ‘No thank,’ I refused wearily. The travelling and the heat were having an unpleasant effect on me and I could hardly wait to relax and settle with a cold drink in my hand.

  We arrived at our destination and Penny paid the taxi driver. The house in Arlosoroff Road was far from satisfactory. The architect had designed it ingeniously using every millimetre of available space, fitting out the accommodation with a tiny kitchen, a small bathroom, and sparse living quarters. I opened the shuttered windows to let in some fresh air and flooded the room with sunlight.

  ‘I’m going to have a cool drink and then walk around the town,’ I told Penny. ‘My bones ache like hell and my head is throbbing but there’s a lot I need to get out of my system. Walking’s the only way I can do it.’

  ‘You’ll end up over-tired and you won’t be able to sleep.’ she retorted with an element of concern.

  ‘Let’s say there’s an itinerant bug running around my bloodstream. It’s going to keep me on the move.’

  ‘Well I’m bushed,’ she yawned, pulling a lever on the settee so that it unfolded swiftly into a bed. ‘When you go out, close the shutters, will you? The noise of the traffic might keep me awake but at least I won’t have to face the sunshine.’

  ***

  I found Tel Aviv fascinating mainly because the city was so young and alive. It had developed at a tremendous pace with the port of Jaffa by its side. I learned later that when the cornerstone was laid in Jaffa, its founders sought to create a quiet residential suburb on the golden sands of the Mediterranean. No one believed it would grow into a city overshadowing the original port. I wandered along the straight streets with their new houses designed in modern architectural vogue. There were numerous museums, theatre companies and night clubs of every description to cater for the public. The place had a unique character of its own.

  After walking along the seafront for a while towards Jaffar, I retraced my steps and found my way back to our humble abode. To my surprise
, Penny was still awake, sitting up in bed with a magazine in her hand.

  ‘Couldn’t you sleep? I asked her.

  ‘I’ve had my sleep,’ she replied. ‘An hour’s enough for me to catch up during the day. You were gone for ages. Find anything interesting?’

  ‘Nothing much.’

  ‘By the way, we received a telephone call while you were out. Just as I got my head down the ‘phone rang. A Schmuel Musaphia is staying at the King David Hotel and would like us to join his tomorrow for breakfast.’

  I stared at her bleakly. ‘Who’s he? And is he on our side or the other side?’

  She shrugged her shoulders aimlessly. ‘The only way to find out is to meet him there tomorrow morning.’

  I was getting very tired of the cat-and-mouse game as well as my inability to control the situation. No longer did I make any arrangements myself; they were always suggested to me by others. Either I was instructed to meet someone at a certain place at a particular time or I was invited to meet them at their convenience. I seemed to be a pawn in someone else’s game of chess and I didn’t like it... I didn’t like it at all!

  Chapter Five

  Although the King David Hotel was exalted in many high-quality travel brochures, any form of prose could hardly do it justice but it had to be said that the hotel, being exquisite in every sense of the word, had no conscience in setting its tariff at an eminent level. For most people, spending a day in the hotel might cost them as much as a month at home, but no one ever complained that it wasn’t value for money. There was a multitude of well-dressed hotel staff available to attend to one’s bidding at a moment’s notice, a menu that could hardly be challenged, luxury at every turn, and a highly-sophisticated atmosphere. We arrived there quite early and the head-waiter led us to an open verandah where Musaphia was already waiting.

  ‘Jason Scott and Penny Smith,’ I announced as we reached the table. ‘You rang us yesterday inviting us for breakfast.’

  ‘Welcome to my table,’ he returned in a shrill voice without moving from his chair. ‘Sit down!’ He stared at Penny for a few moments to admire her face and hair. ‘You look very pretty, my dear,’ he complimented warmly. ‘I like having pretty ladies around me. Apart from anything else, it makes one feel young again.’

  She smiled at him pleasantly as we sat down and I scanned him clinically. He was very thin with a wizened tanned face and wore a spotless white suit, a white shirt and a small red bow-tie. He sported a short pointed beard which was very grey although his hair was dark with white streaks reaching back from the temples, giving the impression that he used hair-dye. A large Cuban cigar was held firmly between his lips which seemed to remain in the same position whenever he spoke. He waved his hand without looking around and a waiter approached to stand hovering at the edge of the table in anticipation of his instructions.

  ‘What would you like for breakfast?’ asked Musaphia bluntly. ‘Don’t worry about the cost. It’s on me.’

  ‘I’ll have eggs and bacon with toast and coffee if that’s all right,’ I responded innocently.

  ‘No... it’s not all right,’ returned our host, with a smile touching the corners of his mouth. ‘No one here eats of the pig.’

  I became extremely embarrassed and apologised for my ignorance modifying the order to a Continental breakfast as I waited to find out what he wanted to discuss.

  He examined my face before breaking the ice. ‘You look in pretty poor shape,’ he began as though concerned about my welfare. ‘Bruises on your face... and no doubt on your body too. You really should take more care of yourself. I gave up all that stuff a long time ago. Life’s too short to suffer from fisticuffs and fights. Personally, I always thought it unnecessary but other people enjoy violence. I’d better lay my cards on the table. Normally, you would never have met me. I don’t usually deal with small fish. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to stay at this hotel. I’d be relegated to an area such as Arlosoroff Road.’ He guffawed briefly at his own comment in his shrill thin voice. ‘I deal in diamonds...

  Industrial diamonds... in particular certain types of precious jewels. But for the moment that’s beside the point. The concept of the 21st Century Crusaders is the subject of discussion. As far as I’m concerned, it makes a lot of sense... and I’m always right. If I wasn’t always right I would never have become rich.’ He stopped to stare directly into my eyes. ‘Tell me... what do you think of the organisation?’

  I hesitated before replying to the question. ‘I’ve seen nothing of it as yet,’ I replied, ‘except for a trip to the Gaza Strip. Commander Yasood offered a generic view but it was very brief. Having said that, I suppose it’s possible someone will stir things up among the Arabs when they realise that the oil will soon start to run out. Who wouldn’t if they knew there was going to be nothing more than poverty to look forward to in the future.’

  ‘Possible?’ he reacted vehemently. ‘It’s more than possible. It’s definitely going to happen. The reservoir of oil in the Middle East is not inexhaustible. It will have to run dry. That’s why I’ve invited you here today to find out what you intend to do about it. But I wish to make one point clear. We’re not talking about Arabs but Islam. There are many non-Arabs who follow the Islamic faith.’

  ‘Before we go any further,’ I countered angrily, feeling my temper rising. ‘can we get a few things straight. ‘In my present state of mind and in my poor physical condition where I’ve been involved in a plane crash and incarcerated in a filthy prison cell before being transported out here, I have no intention of doing anything. I have no idea why your organisation wishes to recruit me. I can’t see any way in which I can help although for some obscure reason they do. I don’t belong the them. I don’t belong to any cause. Am I making myself clear?’

  He seemed to be completely calm about my tirade. ‘That information has already been passed to me, Mr. Scott,’ he forwarded easily. I know how you feel and I also know the reason why you’ve been brought here.’

  ‘Ah... at last someone who knows why they’re trying to recruit me. Can you tell me why?

  ‘It’s not my business to release that sort of information. Just be patient and all will be revealed to you in due course.’

  ‘And when will that be?’ I demanded irately. ‘When will someone tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘When it happens,’ he told me tersely. ‘When it happens.’ At that moment, the waiter arrived bearing my breakfast on a silver tray. ‘Come!’ continued Musaphia completely ignoring my minor tantrum. ‘Eat before your adrenalin causes concern for your digestion. He paused until the waiter had finished pouring the coffee before continuing. ‘I should imagine you wage a vendetta with the person who installed a bomb in the cockpit of the plane taking you to Crete.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ I muttered curtly.

  ‘When you fish in these waters you continue to risk your life. There are spies and assassins everywhere in the Middle East. They breed here like flies. If you happen to say the wrong thing to the wrong people, or even do something that makes them suspicious, your life won’t be worth a fig. Treachery is a common cause. And, lets face it, as a foreigner, you stand out like a sore thumb in this region. I’ve had a lot of experience. Experience you would never believe possible.’

  ‘Buying bags of diamonds and carting them from here to there,’ I riposted rudely. ‘I’m not particularly interested in your experiences, Mr. Musaphia.

  He removed a small pistol from his pocket and pointed it directly at my head. I felt the blood run cold in my veins. Surely he wasn’t going to shoot me in the restaurant of the King David Hotel! But then stranger things had happened to us in the past two days. He pressed the trigger slowly and a small flame spurted from the from the end of the gun which he used to relight the end of his cigar. As I relaxed, I felt as though all the blood had drained out of my body.

  ‘If life was only t
hat simple,’ returned the old man starting to philosophise. ‘You’re still young. You don’t understand. How old do you think I am? Sixty-five... seventy... seventy-five? I’m eighty-four and still in the run of things. I attended coronations you would have to read about in books. Why do I look so much younger? I really don’t know especially having be caught up in a world war so horrifying you’d never dream it could take place in a civilised society. I’m talking about the holocaust in the Second World War where over six million Jews were singled out for torture, experiments and mass extermination. I was in one of those camps. I know what it was like.’

  ‘Mr. Musaphia,’ I reminded him, ‘we came here at your invitation expecting to hear something that might be important to us. All these reminiscences...’

  ‘All these reminiscences!’ he interrupted, his beard bristling as he raged with anger. ‘All these reminiscences! Will you young people never learn from history or the teachings of your elders?’ His face took on a menacing look. ‘You will listen to me and not interrupt or I’ll have you thrown out of this hotel! Why is it young people always want to sweep history under the carpet before falling into the same trap again? I’m trying to open your eyes but you insist on being blind.! The world is waiting for an accident to happen right now. It’s totally unprepared for the millions of

  Muslims ready to unleash themselves from all quarters of the globe. Surely Yasood made you realise what’s going to happen... and the reasons why! Its’ no use turning round afterwards and saying you should have taken the advice. Hindsight’s a waste of time. The world is full of poor people and losers wailing in hindsight. Don’t make the same mistake!’ He paused for a moment and his manner altered swiftly as he searched for information. ‘To change the subject, I’m interested in any details you can give me about Primar.’ Do you know where I can contact him?’