The Levanter Part 27

'Hadya, this is Howell. Do you hear me?'

'Yes. Is that a patrol boat attacking you?'

'I don't know, but we are stopping. I have orders from comrade Salah. The operation is cancelled. You understand? The operation is cancelled. You are to jettison your deck cargo and return to base. You hear?' 'Why doesn't comrade Salah himself speak?' 'He is wounded. But those are his orders. Obey them immediately. You hear?'

'I hear. Is he badly wounded?' I switched off the set without answering. If the Jeble 5 had then headed straight for Tel Aviv she might still have been able to launch a few rockets before she herself came under fire from the patrol boat. Though I didn't for a moment think that Hadaya was the type to go in for suicide attacks, it was possible that the front-fighters in charge of the rocket-launchers were.

It was better, I thought, for them to believe that they were still answerable to comrade Salah.

The lieutenant who commanded the Israeli patrol boat was a sharp-eyed, thin-lipped young man with sandy hair and freckles. I met him and his boarding party on the after well-deck. He gave me a formal salute and was very stiff at first. He had been briefed.

'Captain Touzani?'

'Captain Touzani is wounded. My name is Howell.'

'Ah yes, the owner.' His English was correct and only slightly accented. 'I must ask you if you have requested a.s.sistance from the navy of Israel.'

'Yes, I have.'

'Why, please?'

'We were being hi-jacked by four pa.s.sengers. One, the one who shot at and wounded the Captain, is dead. Another was himself wounded by the First Mate. That man has a gun but I think that he has now fired off all his ammunition. The other two hi-jackers are still loose but they have no firearms.'

He seemed to relax. 'You call them hi-jackers, sir. Did these pa.s.sengers attempt to take over the vessel by force?'

'They did.'

'And intimidate the Captain compelling him to steer a certain course?'

'Yes, though they didn't succeed.'

'Whether they succeeded or not is immaterial. By committing these offences on the open sea these men are pirates, Mr Howell.'

'Whatever they are I'm glad to see you, Lieutenant.'

But he had already begun snapping out orders in Hebrew.

It took only a few minutes to round up the unwounded front-fighters. Though they had managed to break the padlock on the special compartment door, they were still wrestling with the clip. They submitted sullenly. Meanwhile a trained first-aid man from the patrol boat had been attending to the wounded.

When he had made his report, Patsalides and I conferred with the Lieutenant on the bridge.

'The Faysal man's wound is not serious,' he said. 'However, Captain Touzani has a broken arm and at least one broken rib. The bullet is still in him. He should not be moved until we have proper medical a.s.sistance. I suggest that you put into Ashdod where it can be waiting for him.'

'What about the prisoners?'

'A vessel of any nation arresting pirates on the open sea, Mr Howell, is ent.i.tled to bring them to trial in the courts of her own country.' He was reciting a learned lesson. 'As they have been arrested by an Israeli s.h.i.+p they will go for trial in Israel.5 'Very well.'

'There is one matter about which I was to consult you, Mr Howell, that of a second s.h.i.+p. We saw what looked like a fis.h.i.+ng schooner about a mile away from you and under power, but no second s.h.i.+p,'

'I doubt if it's of much interest to you now, Lieutenant. The schooner was the second s.h.i.+p, and I'm sure you could easily catch her if you wanted to. But she won't ask for a.s.sistance. You'll have to stop her and ask for her papers. She's Syrian, but they'll be in order. There'll be no incriminating evidence. That's overboard by now. I'll tell your people all about it when I see them. By the way, you had better take the dead man with the live prisoners.'

'Very well, if you wish.'

'He's down in the s.h.i.+p's papers as Ya.s.sin, but his real name is Salah Ghaled. I'd like him off the s.h.i.+p.'

'Oh.' He looked nonplussed. His briefing hadn't covered everything; but he recovered quickly and with a grin. 'I think the sooner we are in Ashdod the better for everyone, Mr Howell.'

I could not but agree.

Chapter 8.

LEWIS PRESCOTT.

August Michael Howell should have had better luck.

The crime of piracy on the open sea occupies a special place in international law. It is the one 'international' crime that has been precisely defined and that all nations have joined in condemning. Although the penalties for those convicted of it may vary from state to state, the laws on this subject have been accepted by all. Difficulties of interpretation have been rare and usually of a technical nature.

The district court in Ashdod had no difficulty in dealing with the Amalia Howell case. The accused were charged only with piracy and politics were kept out of it. The chief prosecution witnesses were Captain Touzani and First Mate Patsalides. Neither of them in their evidence referred to the PAF; and the defence, whose line was that the prime offender was dead, was naturally careful not to mention it. During the course of the trial one of the defendants, Aziz Faysal, alleged that Mr Howell had murdered Salah Ghaled, but no evidence was produced to support the allegation. The court concluded that Ghaled had been killed in a general exchange of shots between the crew and the pirates when the latter attempted to take over the vessel.

Mr Howell himself issued no formal denial of the charge. In the circ.u.mstances this was not surprising. By the time the trial took place, so many other, and wilder, charges had been hurled at his head that issuing denials had become for him a somewhat pointless exercise.

Before sailing from Latakia on board the Amalia Howell he had been told by Ghaled that a supply of PAF detonators had been lost in Israel. The loss had been described at the tune as a 'minor mishap', and, from Ghaled's point of view, perhaps that was all it was. But for Mr Howell it was a catastrophe.

What happened in Israel was this.

On 28 June a bus from Haifa bound for Tel Aviv stopped at Nazareth to pick up pa.s.sengers. These included a party of eight American tourists. Some rearrangement of the contents of the baggage compartment at the back of the bus was necessary in order to make room for the tourists bags and cases. In the course of this rearrangement a small but heavy carton which had been put aboard the bus in Haifa, together with other packages for delivery in Tel Aviv, fell to the ground.

A series of explosions followed. They were not big explosions, but there were a lot of them; and then the carton caught fire.

n.o.body was injured, and the bus was eventually allowed to proceed. No publicity was given to the incident. The police were naturally interested in finding out who in Haifa had sent the carton and who in Tel Aviv was to have been the recipient. Publicity would have warned both parties. As the carton had been quite badly burnt the task of deciphering the writing on the charred labels was taken over by a police laboratory. The results, if any, of the investigation have not so far been announced.

All that is known publicly is what Mr Robert S. Rankin, of Malibu, California, heard and saw.

He was on a tour of the Holy Land with Mrs Rankin and they were among the pa.s.sengers on the bus who joined it at Nazareth. Mr Rankin is a motion picture executive, and when he and his wife arrived in Rome a few days later they were invited to a dinner party. One of their fellow guests was a roving American gossip columnist. During the evening Mr Rankin told her about the exploding carton. The columnist, who was short of copy that week, used the story.

Here is Mr Rankin's own account of the incident.

'It was the d.a.m.nedest thing. The guy with the baggage dropped this carton on the ground. Not carelessly, you understand. If it had been a case of Scotch nothing would have been broken. He just gave it a hard jolt. Well the next moment it was like the Fourth of July. Suddenly, a lot of bangs - pah - pah - pah! I thought it was a machine gun at first and yelled to Mrs Rankin to get down. But no - pah-pah -pah! And there were these bits flying all over the place. Bits 1 What do you think they were? Flashlight batteries, that's what! Ordinary flashlight batteries going off like Chinese firecrackers. I picked one of the cases up and kept it. One of those that had gone off, I mean. An army man took the rest away. I kept it as a souvenir and because I thought n.o.body would believe me otherwise. I mean, flashlight batteries! Of course they weren't real batteries. Our guide said they had this sort of trouble once in a while. At the airport a month or so back he said they found explosive detonators in some woman's shoes, hidden in the heels. It's the Palestinians.'

In Paris two days later, Mr Rankin was asked by a reporter from a French newsmagazine if he could see the battery case. The magazine published a photograph of it. The label had been singed, but the Green Circle trademark and the words 'Made in Syria' were clearly visible.

The Government of Israel tends to a.s.sign the responsibility for hostile acts committed by foreign-based groups of Palestine guerillas to each group's host country, and to determine its reprisal policies accordingly. Smuggling in detonators disguised as flashlight batteries was clearly a hostile act, no matter which guerilla group was involved.

In Damascus, Dr Hawa hastened to dissociate his Ministry from the Green Circle trademark. In his statement he pointed out, quite truthfully, that the Green Circle dry-battery factory was a private enterprise of the Agence Howell, that no government money was involved in its financing and that Michael Howell, a foreign entrepreneur resident in Syria, had no official standing whatsoever.

On the heels of Dr Hawa's statement came the publication of Mr Howell's and Miss Malandra's confessions by Colonel s.h.i.+kla's department.

In Damascus they meant to defend themselves by discrediting Michael Howell; and they succeeded The Arab press, hysterical as ever, tore into him with everything they had.

And they had plenty. Here was this Howell, a rich businessman whose family company had battened for years on poor Arab countries, revealed as an Israeli provocateur and spy. Having joined or having pretended to join the Palestinian liberation cause he had then proceeded to betray it in the vilest way. Worse he had organised treacherous murder plots against Arabs who refused to be blackmailed by his agents. Nor was blackmail his only source of profit. In his factories he had made illegal arms and sold them to the very fedayin whom he later betrayed. Among his known victims was the Palestinian patriot Salah Ghaled, lured aboard a Howell s.h.i.+p and murdered for Howell's Zionist masters; though perhaps Ghaled's fate was merciful when one thought of other Howell victims delivered bound to the Israeli usurper and condemned to rot in the Zionist concentration camps.

To this sort of insensate attack there can be no real defence. The victim can only wait for it to exhaust itself. Mr Howell's initial response had been a blank and steadfast denial of all the charges. However, when the European press took up the story he changed his tactics and began to explain. He would have done better perhaps to have stayed with the denials. They at least had been unequivocal. Of the explanations that could not be said.

In August I had occasion to go again to Beirut, where I talked to Frank Edwards about Mr Howell. He had recently been in Israel and had discussed the case with contacts there. For reasons which seemed to me very sound, the Government of Israel had refused to comment publicly on either the 'Green Circle Incident' or the Arab charges against Mr Howell. Frank Edwards' contacts, however, had been more forthcoming and he had picked up some intriguing sc.r.a.ps of information. The idea of someone doing a full-length feature on the subject was mooted. Frank Edwards knew Mr Howell slightly and could set up an interview with him. As I had been the one to interview Ghaled it seemed logical that I should now interview the man who had been accused of murdering him, and write the feature.

The Villa Howell near Famagusta does not look very big from the outside, but when you get inside you know that you are in a wealthy house. It has that 'old-money' look: everything is very good, nothing is very new-except, possibly, the swimming pool-and it is all slightly, pleasantly, untidy. I had been told that Mr Howell's mother and his wife and children were all in Cannes for the summer, so I was not surprised to find Miss Malandra there with the master of the house.

They were in beach clothes by the swimming pool, where, judging from the files scattered about them, they had been working. I was invited to take off my jacket and tie, offered swimming trunks if I would feel more comfortable, and a champagne c.o.c.ktail. I refused the swimming trunks but accepted the c.o.c.ktail.

Miss Malandra served it. Lunch would be at one thirty she said. There would be ample time for a second drink. Then we got down to bra.s.s tacks.

Or rather Michael Howell got down to bra.s.s tacks, with a denunciation that lasted for twenty minutes of the iniquities of the Press. Frank Edwards had warned me to expect this, so at first I let it flow; but when he began to quote from an article written by Melanie Hammad for a Cairo paper and read long extracts from it, I had to interrupt.

'Mr Howell, I'm afraid I don't understand Arabic."

'Ah, sorry. Well I can tell you what she says about me in English. Hashemite lackey, running dog, murderous viper, jackal, hyena, denier of youth. Those are some of the nicer things she has to say.'

'Nicer?'

'When she comes to my crucifixion of Ghaled she is horrible. She says I wash my hands in Palestinian blood. And look at this. "The name of Howell is the name of everything that is vile in our society. Only fire can cleanse us of this evil!"' He flung the paper down in disgust.

'Well, it's what you would expect, isn't it, Mr Howell?'

'Expect?'

'Of Miss Hammad. I hear, by the way, that with Ghaled gone, she has transferred her allegiance from the PAF to the Popular Front.'

'But she is still inciting people to a.s.sa.s.sinate me. I must tell you, Mr Prescott, that this sort of thing is very bad indeed for business.'

The anticlimax took me by surprise. 'Only for business, Mr Howell?'

'Only, you say! Do you realise that Howell s.h.i.+ps are now being boycotted in some ports? I can tell you that Touzani is very worried.'

'Touzani? Is this Captain Touzani?'

'Of course. He is to be our new Marine Superintendent. The present one is almost due for his pension and Touzani has earned the promotion. But it comes at a bad time. He is saying that we may have to take the Howell name off our s.h.i.+ps.'

'I realise the importance of the Howell name as a business symbol, naturally,' I said; 'but what I would like to discuss with you is your own personal position, the position of Michael Howell.'

'The two are inseparable, Mr Prescott.'

'Are they? It wasn't the Agence Howell who joined the PAF, it was Michael Howell. And it was Michael Howell who called for naval a.s.sistance against pirates off the coast of Israel.'

'But sailing in a s.h.i.+p owned by the Agence Howell. And yes -why not say it?-those detonators which exploded in Nazareth were made and packed in the Agence Howell Green Circle factory.'

I tried a fresh approach.

'On the subject of detonators, Mr Howell, I have brought you some important information that you may not already have. Frank Edwards got hold of it in Israel. At least we think that it's important. The trouble is that we don't understand it. You may.'

I handed him the photostat that Frank had given me. It was of a short news item.

In the late afternoon of 2 July, two houses on the outskirts of an Arab village near the Israeli airport of Lod had been shattered by a dynamite explosion. Damage was also done to the nearby village. From the extent of the damage it was estimated that as much as two hundred kilos of explosive had been involved. Parts of six bodies had been found in the ruins, though this figure could only be estimated. Also found, scattered over a wide area by the explosion, were a number of plastic flight bags belonging to foreign airlines using Lod airport. Neither the police nor the military had issued any statement concerning the cause of the explosion.

He read it through and nodded. 'I guessed it was something like that.'

'Something like what, Mr Howell?'

'As you must know, Ghaled planned to plant these bombs of his in airline flight bags and fire them with electronic triggers by radio. He had the transmitter on board the Amalia in that musical-box. Well, I gave the Israelis one of those triggers to a.n.a.lyse and test. Obviously they succeeded in working out the frequencies he was using.'

'I'm afraid I don't follow.'

'Do you know anything about making bombs, Mr Prescott? No, I don't suppose so. I had to find out, too. The thing is this. You have the explosive, you have the detonator with a battery to fire it and you have the electronic trigger that's going to make it all work at the right tune. But these things all have to be connected up, "armed" is the word. Am I making sense to you?'

'Yes.'

'With some bombs, say a single bomb in a suitcase, you might have a little secret switch on the outside so that you could leave the final arming until the very last moment. But if you are making a hundred bombs and packing them in plastic flight bags you can't have switches. Too complicated and they would show. You have to arm the bombs beforehand, before you start planting them where they a.r.s.e to explode. You have to arm them where you a.s.semble them, in other words. So you see what happened.'

'I'm afraid not.'

'Well, as soon as the Israelis had worked out the radio frequencies being used to operate the triggers they used them. Easy really. All they had to do was order one of their military radio transmitters to send out strong continuous signals on the trigger frequencies and keep sending twenty-four hours a day. Then, the moment the PAF started arming the bombs - boom! - up would go the lot. Even if the bombs hadn't all been in one place it would still have worked, because the triggers were all exactly the same. Then, you would have had two or three smaller explosions instead of one big one.'

'You say you guessed that this would happen?'

'Much later, yes. Too late." He suddenly became indignant and started wagging his finger at me. 'If the Israelis had had the common decency to let me know, things might have been easier. I consider that their behaviour to me throughout has been absolutely appalling. Not one word have those ingrates uttered. Not a single word! For them I don't exist. Silence!'

'I don't understand, Mr Howell. If you're so worried about the Howell name in the Arab world I would have thought that the last thing you would want would be a public acknowledgement from Israel. It seems to me that they're simply being tactful.'

That really incensed him. 'Tactful! Have you read those French and West German smears? "Eichman in the Levant" -that was one of their captions. All right, they put a question mark after it, but how would you like that, Mr Prescott? "Pro-Arab businessman made bombs for terrorists". That was another. "Green Circle man plotted Tel Aviv ma.s.sacre". "Howell money behind terrorists". One of them even made out that Ghaled was my lieutenant, that he was only a figurehead and that I am the PAF! And the Israelis say nothing, nothingl'

'But surely if you hope to re-establish your position with the Arabs . . .'

'I have no such hope. My position there is hopeless. Israeli provocateur, spy, traitor, informer, a.s.sa.s.sin - that's what they've decided. Even if they were allowed to hear the truth none of them would believe it. I can face facts, Mr Prescott. My family has been doing business in the Levant for three quarters of a century. Facing facts is in the blood. We're finished there now. I know that. Touzani's right. We're going to have to form a new company without the Howell name showing, buy up the s.h.i.+ps and re-register them. There's no other way. The rest of our business will go for a song. That can't be helped. It's past and done with. We've cut our losses. But what about the future? What about Europe?'

'Europe, Mr Howell?'

He flung out his arms in amazement at my inability to grasp the obvious. 'Well, naturally we're going into Europe. We must. We can't have capital lying around idle. Bonds at seven percent? Ridiculous! No, Italy's the place. We already have land in the mezzogiorno, or rather Teresa has. The company is buying it. Our plans are all made. Do you know about the mezzogiorno, Mr Prescott? Very far-sighted the Italian Government is being. Tax incentives, low-interest development loans, favourable amortisation agreements- it's all there for the asking, including the labour. I already have five projects mapped out. Howell (Italia) s.a., that's what we'll be, right in the Common Market. But why should I have to go to the Italian Government and negotiate the deals with all this smearing going on, with this cloud of suspicion and distrust hanging over me?'

'Mr Howell,' I said weakly, 'that's why I'm sitting here. That's what I've come about. So that we can talk about the cloud.'

Miss Malandra handed me another champagne c.o.c.ktail. If she had decided that I needed it just then, she was absolutely right.