The Code War (13 page)

'How so?'

'If we succeed in bringing Nancy
to Inferno, I plan to send her straightaway to Tyrant's Fall. But
if it would motivate you, Hideki, I will delay her departure there.
I could send her to you first. She could be your plaything.'
Bezejel looked down at the still-life footstool under his feet.
'You can do anything you wish with her. For as long as you
want.'

Hideki removed his glasses.
He
looked up at Bezejel with cold eyes as
a smile grew across his face.

'Thank you Bezejel,' he said. 'Consider
me motivated.'

Nancy's Apartment,
Eilat, Israel

The Arab
walked purposefully up the narrow road towards the
apartment that Nancy and her friends had hired for their holiday.
The mid-morning sun was exceptionally bright and its slanted rays
created a lane of two halves. Wherever the light shone in across
the rooftops and poured itself over the white wall of houses on one
side, everything seemed friendly, bright and cheerful. But on the
other side where the shadows fell it was cold, brooding and still.
The light spoke of growth and change. The dark whispered of
stagnation and stolen hope.

The wooden door to Nancy's
apartment was in full sun and already hot to the touch. A small
hanging pot of primroses near its top corner danced lightly in the
breeze coming in from the nearby Gulf of Aqaba. A bee reversed out
of one of its flowers, selected another, landed, hesitated then
flew off in a hurry.

The Arab
slowed his pace till he stood in front of Nancy's door,
casting his shadow over it. He took a last pull on his cigarette,
threw the butt behind him and prepared to knock. He was looking
forward to his encounter.

Habib Bourguiba was from Aqaba, just two
miles away along the coast in Jordan. Though his family were too
poor even to own a camel, Habib was born with one great advantage.
He was raffishly handsome. Over the years his dashing good looks
would turn many a veiled head - and many a non-veiled one. Indeed
if the birth angel had waited just a few hours for the world to
turn before he planted Habib naked upon its surface, Habib could
have easily found his fortune in Hollywood's studios and made a
mogul or two very rich.

Never mind, the fates were not so easily
thwarted. If Habib could not go to Hollywood, they instead brought
Hollywood to Habib. When he was 20 years old and whistling away his
days repairing his father's nets while simultaneously avoiding the
fathers of two young women he had carelessly impregnated, a warm
summer evening brought into Aqaba's tiny harbour a rare sight. It
was a two-masted luxury sloop with a Kenyan crew, an ancient South
African captain and two slightly used Los Angeles starlets, names
that had graced the screens more than 10 years before and who were
now enjoying their after-fame years cruising the seas, indulging
the senses and mooching the middle eastern muscle.

Habib saw the arrival of the cruise boat
and word soon spread of its two minor celebrities. He sensed an
opportunity immediately and acted fast. He sought out his friend
Hamid, another footloose Aqaban with as many holes in his pockets
as Habib had in his morals.

Rapidly coaching Hamid in
etiquette, English and dress sense, Habib led the swarthy pair to
the quayside an hour later just as the actresses' boat-taxi brought
them to the port.

'Good evening, lovely ladies. How are
you tonight? This is Hamid and I Habib and we your escorts for the
evening.'

The two American women looked up
at Habib with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. They were not
naïve, they knew that many would see them as easy targets. But the
quiet port scene looked as harmless as an oasis to thirsty
travellers and surely, they figured, it would be nice to have a
local to show them around?

Anyway an adventure beckoned and another
night with just the two of them talking to each other would be such
a bore. Besides, Habib was every bit the gentleman, helping the
ladies onto the quay with his strong arms and playing the smiling
romancer with the devilish composure of a dark Clark Gable. He was
fun, friendly and so, so handsome.

So, so devious too.

When the two men left the sloop early
the next morning after a night of eating, joking and carnal
pleasure and very satisfied with their night's endeavours, one of
the grateful ex-leading ladies emerged after them onto the deck.
She pulled her robe around her, kissed Habib on the lips and
pressed $100 into his hand saying 'That's for the two of you to
share.'

But Habib was not the sharing kind.
After coaxing Hamid into an almond orchard where the two could be
alone and plan their next escapade together, Habib slew Hamid with
a knife slipped under his ribs into his heart. Habib held his
friend while he slid to the ground then buried his body and pulled
the sun-dried leather carcase of a dead donkey over it to keep the
dogs away.

Habib began to pursue his new
career on the wrong side of the law with vigour. He was surprised
at how easy it was to make money from giving people what they
wanted. Sex, drugs, car radios, whatever. He found he had a natural
flair for crime. But his growing ambitions meant he needed a bigger
theatre to work in. It wasn't long before he had moved from the
backwater of Aqaba across the border into the relative boomtown
that was Israel's own Red Sea port, Eilat. Israel had access to
western tourists in a way that Aqaba didn't and money and
investment were flowing into Eilat like sun cream sloshing over
white skin. Hotels were rising, restaurants were opening, cruise
boats were multiplying and tourists were arriving by the
charter-load, browning themselves on the sand and splashing in the
warm water gulf.

But in the evenings tourists
wanted fun. Families wanted hamburgers and innocent cartoon films.
Youthful holidaymakers wanted soft drugs. And older single tourists
wanted discreet sex. Habib understood these needs and set out to
meet them all. Particularly the latter two.

Before long he came to the
attention of the Israeli constabulary. These were on a mission to
keep Eilat free from crime so that Israel could continue to earn
huge amounts of foreign exchange from tourism. Habib's Arab
credentials made him of more than usual interest to them. But his
instinctive understanding of power and his ability to placate it
meant that he worked within the system, not outside it.

Israeli officialdom was initially
suspicious of this smooth, handsome bedouin but Habib was
respectful towards uniforms and made sure he regularly performed
favours for them.

Frequently he turned in fellow Arabs who
tried to carve out their own crime niche without cutting him in.
This both endeared him to the police as well as removed competitors
from the field. Sometimes he informed on tourists that he had just
sold drugs to (which helped the police get their conviction rates
up). And once he handed in the rifle of an Israeli soldier who had
left it in a bus shelter.

Habib knew how to make friends where it
mattered.

But unbeknownst to Habib, or the Police,
another group had become interested in him. This group were based
far from Israel and were building a drug supply chain that could
take illegal compounds in any direction around the globe, safely.
They were impressed with Habib's unusual ability to develop a
criminal enterprise whilst simultaneously working with the
authorities. They valued discretion.

For months they shadowed his activities,
crossing his path only to observe him more closely. In Habib they
saw a natural lieutenant who shared their values and who could help
them in their global endeavours. They particularly needed a
reliable fixer in the Middle East, it being the nexus of Africa,
Asia and Europe.

Eventually the group made contact with
Habib. They sent two of their senior members to Eilat specially to
interview him.

The two emissaries spelt out their
society's mission of global domination and their peculiar code of
honour. They highlighted the failures of European and American
criminal networks and ridiculed them as short-termist and clumsy.
They pointed out the material benefits of membership of their group
and emphasised the power of their gathering influence in
governments and boardrooms around the globe.

Habib was mesmerised. Here were friends
that had no interest in whether he was Arab or Jew. They saw no
ethnic or national boundaries. They would be his new family and
help him succeed as he helped them. They wanted only his unswerving
loyalty.

This group was Brother.

Nancy was alone inside
the apartment. She swallowed the last crust of a
piece of toast and sipped her instant coffee. Beside her on the
sofa was the detritus of the boys' breakfast. Men's socks, jeans, a
cassette player and some batteries lay scattered on the floor like
a latterday Marie Celeste.

There was a
knock
.

Nancy put down her cup, went to the door
and opened it. Outside was the Arab man who had sold them the drugs
last night. He was standing alone, dressed in a very smart suit and
highly polished brown shoes.

'May I come in? I need to discuss.'

'Er, what?' said Nancy, trying to
recover from her surprise.

But Habib was already walking into
the corridor, pushing past her. A waft of tobacco smoke combined
with strong cologne assaulted her nostrils. She closed the door
behind her but left it on the latch.

'Please to sit down.' Habib stood in the
centre of the small living room and gestured towards the sofa.

'So kind of you to let me sit in my own
room.'

'Actually, this is my room. My name is
Habib, at your service. I rent out this room, and some others', he
waved his hand airily 'to help out the tourist industry.'

'Oh', said Nancy momentarily taken
aback.

'You like my house?'

'It's fine. Actually it's a bit small',
she recovered. 'I'm used to more space. Have you got anything
bigger?'

His demeanour changed
sharply
. 'You must come with me. Some
friends of mine need help. You will be back in a day or
so.'

'Day or so? But I've got Martin, Pete
and Andy to look after. They're my friends. I can't just leave
them.' Nancy's mind was whirring. He couldn't make her go with him,
surely? But he seemed so confident.

'Oh yes, your friends.' He regarded her
with a slight sneer for a few seconds.

Did he know about the sex, thought
Nancy. How could he? Oh, it's his property of course. A hidden
camera, a microphone?

Habib interrupted her thoughts. 'Get
some paper and a pen. I'm sure you brought some with you to write
home. You are going to write your friends a note.'

But Habib had pushed Nancy beyond
a certain point. She was suddenly on her feet before he realised
she had even moved.

'I'm not writing anyone a note and
if you think I am you've got cotton wool for brains and if you
don't get out of my house this instant I'll call the police. Now
good day mister, close the door behind you.'

The tirade was delivered in a
rising crescendo. Habib's mouth dropped open as he surveyed the
transformation of nervous young female into flinty jabberwock in
front of his eyes.

If Habib had been unaccompanied it
would have been a victory to Nancy like a mother rabbit seeing off
the weasel that invades its home. But the day was full of
surprises.

A click of the latch and the door
opened. A figure appeared in the threshold dressed in the uniform
of the Israeli police. The policeman had his hand on his holster
and spoke to Habib in a language Nancy could not understand. Habib
turned his head a little and spoke back. Then another Israeli
policeman appeared. They stood and waited, apparently respectful of
Habib. The weasel had friends.

'You see,' said Habib. 'I am in charge
here.' He waited for the evident truth of his words to sink in.
'Now enough of your womanly temper. Get the paper and pen. If you
refuse I have your friends arrested. There were witnesses who saw
them buy hashish last night.'

'From you,' shouted Nancy in a rising
panic.

'There are photographs.' Habib raised
his voice, he was used to intimidating others. 'They show you and
your friends buying hashish from a man who has his back to the
camera. He cannot be identified. It's a shame. For you. And I think
we find remains of hashish cigarettes in your bin if we take a
look?'

He indicated the policemen with a
slight incline of his head. Then he returned his eyes to look
intently at her and allow time for his words to take
effect.

Nancy's fury faded and her
shoulders slumped. Images of courtrooms and prison cells came into
her mind.

'Now, if you please.' Habib had won the
first battle.

Nancy alighted from Habib's car
onto a large flight apron. A variety of aircraft, mostly military,
were parked to left and right of her. Beyond the aerodrome was
nothing but desert in all directions. It was completely secluded.
She reached into her handbag for sunglasses.

Stretching away from the
apron
was the runway which disappeared
from sight in the heat haze. It was still morning. Only an hour
before Nancy had still been the little girl on holiday with three
boy academics, passing the time till they returned home.

Nearby, a refuelling truck
serviced a twin-engined light plane. Beside it some men were
unloading boxes from the cavernous interior of a huge four-engined
transport monster.