The Negotiator

Mission Libya

It took two and a half days but at last, I was booked into the Ursolino Valletta hotel, overlooking the Grand Harbour. Harriet had walked on water to get a passport made and flown there in the time available. I picked the package up at reception and went to my room.

I repacked the special suitcase O’Rourke had given me. I also took the twenty, one-ounce gold bars I’d bought as a backup and slipped some in my wallet.

Next day I bought a linen suit. The Maltese tailors are experts and lightning fast. I was fitted later the same day and collected the finished article before lunch the following day. I bought a Panama hat and was as ready as I’d ever been, looking the part of a prosperous businessman used to travelling in hot lands.

The flight to Tripoli was short and uneventful, but customs was a whole different experience. I was stopped by an officious looking officer ‘What is the purpose of your visit’ he asked, not bothering to hide his suspicious scowl.

‘I have business with General Idris Anwar’ I said. He was unimpressed by my name dropping and told me to place my luggage on a table. He went through my possessions, eyed my watch enviously then produced a tape measure.

He measured the depth of the outside of the case and then the inside. ‘This case has a false bottom’ he told me and beckoned a second officer over, explaining in rapid Arabic.

The senior man eyed me with hostility, ‘We’ll have to take you to a private room’ he said. I had to think fast. I slipped two gold bars into my case on his side and two on the other. It was a risk, but once in the private room away from public gaze anything could happen. I needed the money in the false bottom for expenses and possible bribes. Credit cards were not accepted in Libya.

‘I think your friend may be mistaken’ I said. They glanced at the gold, then at each other, I could almost hear their minds ticking. If they arrested me everything would be confiscated, the top man would get the lot, and they’d get nothing except a pat on the back. On the other hand, there were four months wages lying there for the taking. The senior man gave a slight nod and the gold disappeared.

They stuffed my clothes back in the case and closed it. ‘Have a good visit, sir.’

Outside, I took a taxi to my hotel, took a shower and had my suit taken and pressed. Impressions counted for a lot and I had to look like an authority figure. I went to the lobby and got the receptionist to book me a room at the Crescent Moon Hotel in Derna. By keeping things above board, I was not raising suspicion. Next day I hired a driver who was sitting at the taxi rank.

He addressed me in passable English ‘Hi mister, you want good guide? I show you around, good rates, very cheap sir’ his grin nearly split his face in half; I liked him immediately. I asked his name ‘foreigners cannot say my name, sir. Call me Abdul.’

Can you take me to Derna? I asked, ‘maybe work for me for one week?’

‘No problem’ he beamed, ‘I send message to wife, she very happy with so much workings. We go now?’

He called out to the man in the next taxi and spoke for a couple of minutes then turned to me ‘OK, he tells wife, we go, yes?’ he asked, enthusiasm radiating from his grinning face.

On the way, he told me he used to work for the British at El Adam RAF base in the pre-Gadaffi days. He spoke openly of the “good days” when old King Idris was on the Libyan throne. ‘British Royal Air Force very good’ he told me, ‘they pay plenty good, no beatings, no shoutings.’

His ancient Mercedes purred, the air conditioning worked well, and it was as clean as a new pin. Abdul obviously took great pride in it. I complimented him on how well he kept the beautiful old car and how comfortable I was.

His chest went out several inches. ‘My friend, we go school, he now mechanic with Mercedes. I give him little, little each month, he take good care of car. I clean every day.’

When, after hours bouncing on dubious roads, we got to the Crescent Moon, he asked me for half of what I expected for the week. I offered him double, he was overjoyed, his craggy face beamed, exposing the yellow stumps that passed for his teeth. I’d made an important ally.

The Crescent Moon Manager, Khaled Ibrahim, was another case entirely. He was obsequious and sly looking. I didn’t like the look of him one bit, but MI6 said he was reliable.

I greeted him as pleasantly as I could. ‘Nice to meet you Mr Ibrahim’ I told him shaking his hand vigorously. His sly eyes flashed up and down me, evaluating my probable worth in a millisecond.

'Ah, sir,' he said, wringing his pudgy hands, ‘we have had great difficulty with your booking. I’ve had to move an important guest to accommodate you, I’m afraid there is a little extra expense involved.’ His smile was oily.

I stopped abruptly in my tracks and stared at him hard for a long moment. I couldn’t have this greedy bastard wedging his hand in my pocket at every opportunity, yet I couldn’t afford to alienate him either ‘that is most unfortunate for you’ I said with mock sincerity ‘I’ll put it in my report to my people, I’m sure they’ll be most accommodating if your services prove useful to us.’

His eyes broke contact ‘Oh yes, I’m sure, please pardon me, it was a mere trifle, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’ I smiled broadly, and he showed me to my room without another word.

The room was situated at the front of the building on the first floor. It had a double bed and a rickety wardrobe on the side wall. There was a nightstand next to the bed with a phone. The bathroom was dated circa 1955, the ancient plumbing barely worked. The air conditioning made such a noise it would be impossible to sleep with it on. The room left a lot to be desired. Ibrahim assured me the telephone was a private line. Oh, of course, it is I thought, and my arse is a pumpkin!

The room did offer an alternative exit through the window and on to the roof of a wide veranda that ran the length of the frontage. It would have to do.

Ibrahim invited me to dine with him in an anti-room that evening. I asked about the general, he said the man was difficult to get an audience with and even harder to deal with when you had. He asked about the nature of my business I told him it was confidential. He didn’t like that, his eyes clouded but he held his peace.

After dinner, I went for a walk, but it was short-lived. Dozens of street urchins immediately surrounded me, their hands out screaming for baksheesh. I returned to my room and took a shower then had an early night. Tomorrow might be a long day.

Abdul had taken himself off to find some food, assuring me he would be back early in the morning. He was, too.

Ibrahim sidled up to me after breakfast ‘the local police were here last night sir, making enquiries about you. I told them you had business with General Anwar and they became very respectful. They requested that you call at the station and register with them today sir. I told them I would inform you and that you would call if it was convenient.’

I thanked him and said I would. I asked Abdul to drive me there to avoid the begging children screeching for baksheesh around my heels every step of the way. It was only a few hundred yards, but Abdul made the most of it ‘Mr Jack, sir’ he said when we were alone ‘last night secret police question me about you. They say I must tell all movements and listen to everything you say. I tell them my English no good, few words only.’ He was taking an enormous risk telling me this and I appreciated it.

‘That’s fine’ I told him ‘you tell them everything I do, I am here on legitimate business with your General Anwar.’

At the mention of the general’s name Abdul recoiled ‘Oh, Mr Jack sir, be most careful, he is wicked man, one of Gadaffi’s close friends.’ He looked scared. ‘He kidnaps people and holds them for monies. He sends ears to their family to get what he wants. He is torturer, he very bad man.’

I smiled ‘well, I’ve got to arrange a meeting with him, I believe he has a villa in Tobruk?’

‘Yes, a large villa look over harbour, a few hundred yards from barracks where he torture people.’ His face reflected the fear and loathing he was feeling as he realised I meant to go there and he would be driving, ‘he not good person, sir, not good at all.’

‘I have a letter of introduction from an important business colleague of his. I won’t give him any reason to torture me, Abdul’ I told him ‘My mission is not political’ I lied. Abdul said nothing, but his frown deepened, his eyes reflecting his deep uncertainty.

I registered with the local police and stated my business. The name Anwar obviously carried a lot of clout. The local police captain himself came out to greet me, he spoke excellent English. If there was anything he and his men could do blah, blah.

The General’s aide de camp answered when I rang the number O’Rourke had given me. ‘Ah, I’ve been expecting your call, the General will see you at 4 p.m. please be prompt.’ He rang off without saying goodbye.

Abdul reluctantly drove me to the gates of the villa and although the gates swung open at our arrival, he refused to drive further. I walked up the drive, the sweat prickling under my arms even from that short exertion.

The front door was opened by a large ugly man in traditional dress, a pistol on a Sam Browne belt across his shoulder ‘I am Major Yacoub, the general’s aide’ he said briskly, ‘this way’ he then led the way down a corridor to a huge room with a glass wall that overlooked the harbour and across the to the second world war British and German mausoleums on the hills opposite.

Anwar was a big man in his early fifties, running to fat about his waist. His powerful shoulders attested to his strength, his cruel brown eyes were deep set under bushy, silvering eyebrows. He scratched his hooked nose and brushed his moustache as I approach his desk. He didn’t greet me. If he was trying to appear ominous he was succeeding.

Suddenly he stood up and drew his pistol pointing it at my guts and thumbing off the safety ‘you are under arrest Mr Murphy’ he growled ‘stand still.’ He shouted an order and the door behind him flew open and in ran four soldiers armed with Kalashnikovs.

I raised my hands ‘what the hell is going on General?’ I was puzzled and damn scared.

He signalled to the guards and two of them ran at me forcing my arms behind my back handcuffing me. He then barked another command and I was dragged off backwards. Through the door and down a flight of steps, my shoes spinning off as they bounced me downward. I was dragged into a cellar and my arms forced up painfully behind me. The cuffs were slung over a hook of some kind in the wall and I was left semi-suspended and helpless. Then it began.

Two of the guards started punching me in the guts, god it hurt, I yelled out in fear and pain. As they began to tire the other two started. It seemed to go on for hours, but it was probably only around ten minutes. I’d been trained for this sort of stuff but nowhere near as real as this s**t. I noticed they stayed away from my face so, they wanted me to look normal, that meant they weren’t about to kill me. Not yet anyway.

Anwar came in and the beating stopped. He reached into my pocket and took O’Rourke’s letter. He opened it and glanced at it briefly before throwing it to the floor. He lifted my chin and looked coldly into my eyes. ‘If there’s one thing I hate it’s being taken for a fool’ he hissed.

I was puzzled ‘sorry general, don’t follow you’ I managed to gasp, my chest still heaving.

‘You come here on a cleverly forged passport bribing your way into my country then have the gall to ask to see me to offer me some cut-priced deal’ he put his hand in his pocket and produced four one ounce gold bars.

‘How little you know of us, you arrogant American bastard’ he backhanded me across the face. The blow was meant as a sign of contempt and not to do damage.

‘When two low paid customs officials try to sell gold bars, no matter how small, it comes to the attention of the secret police.' He paused, glowering at me ‘a little applied persuasion and their story comes out. Thanks to you, those men will spend the next twenty years in prison.’

I tried to think calmly, I took a deep breath ‘Sorry General, it looks like we got off on the wrong foot. O’Rourke said this was the way things were done here. I have come to offer you a genuine deal, we just need the shipment released sir, that’s all.’

‘By that, I take it you want to plead with me to release the shipment for the paltry fifty thousand dollars in your suitcase.’ he grunted to one of the guards and my suitcase appeared the bottom gone and the money on display.

He stepped back, and the beating began again. These guys knew how and where to punch, they hit hard enough for it to be painful but not hard enough to do serious damage like rupture the liver, kidneys or spleen.

After a few minutes they stopped, and Anwar said, ‘You now have a choice Murphy, you can tell me the truth about why you are here, or you can find a shallow grave in our beautiful desert. There are many levels of pain to be endured before that happens, of course. In the end, you will beg for death. I will leave you to consider this for a while.’ With that, they were gone, and I was left in total darkness and pain-filled eerie silence.

That Anwar knew a lot more than O’Rourke believed he did was obvious. If standard interrogation patterns were followed they would start with questions they already knew the answers to. They had no idea I was a British agent, or I’d be dead by now. They had found my genuine American passport as well as the Irish one.

They left me hanging there for hours, my arms on fire from cramp, my shoulders burning with pain. My legs were weakening and my weight hanging more and more on my tortured shoulders; I lost track of time. It seemed an age before they came for me. I was unhooked and dragged off to another room where they flung me onto a chair and uncuffed me. My arms were useless now anyway.

Yacoub came and sat opposite me. He was now wearing ‘Himmler’ glasses which gave him a vulture-like appearance. He looked up from papers he was studying staring at me for a long time. Finally, he said in a friendly voice ‘OK, Jack, why don’t you tell us your side of the story?’

Good move. Hard and soft works well, I’d used it myself on occasion. I told him of my meeting Patricia, how she’d asked me to deliver a letter and how things had developed from there. ‘I’m just a businessman trying to earn a crust.’ I said. He listened without interruption making notes even though he was taping it, too.

‘When did you join the Provisional IRA? he asked.

‘I didn’t, I was just doing a favour for a friend until I was offered a million dollars to come here.’

‘And where is this supposed million dollars?’

I told him about the escrow arrangement. He nodded as if all this was familiar to him. I’d sewn the agreement into the lid of the suitcase along with my American passport, so they would have found that, too.

He left me then after turning off the tape machine. Two soldiers with AK47’s stood guard either side of the door, not that I could have escaped even if they had not been there. My arms and legs were devoid of strength, I sagged forward, my head on the table. God, I felt awful.

After an hour Anwar himself came and sat down. ‘I have been doing some checks. It seems there has been a genuine misunderstanding Mr Murphy, but we had to be sure, you understand?’

‘No, not really General’ I told him ‘I came to offer you an alternative deal and see if I could get you to release the shipment, that’s all.’

‘And what was this deal?’

There was no point lying ‘I thought I’d give you the fifty thousand as a token of our earnest then ask if you would release the goods for one million, after all, we are fighting the same enemy.’

‘And why can’t you afford the three million?’

‘Lately, with the help of we Americans, the British have been finding Provisional IRA bank accounts and freezing them. The PIRA is very short of funds at the moment, O’Rourke is sure it will be a temporary problem. He is employing international lawyers to appeal in the countries concerned, but it takes time.’

Anwar considered this for a moment then said ‘would you be surprised to know that O’Rourke already has the three million stashed in an off-shore account? The greedy crook wants to keep two million of it for himself.’

The idea of a double cross had occurred to me of course, but I had to see if I could stop this arms shipment reaching the Provos.

‘I see’ I said, ‘so the crafty bastard recruits me to do the dangerous work on his behalf, fobs you off with a million, and I collect a bullet when I return which means the escrow reverts back to him.’ I sounded bitter because I was feeling bitter.

‘You catch on quickly Mr Murphy, maybe we can be of mutual assistance. I’ll think on it and see you tomorrow.’

I was led out of the room to a kind of secure mini hospital staffed by a military doctor and two male orderlies. I was tended to, my bruises covered in a soothing ointment. The doctor gave me a strong painkiller and a sleeping pill, then I was put to bed in a locked ward. I awoke the next day around two in the afternoon. An orderly gave me some water and asked if I wanted to eat.

‘Maybe later’ I told him. I was still groggy from the sleeping pill but the pain in my body was already fading. What the hell now? I wondered. I was still not out of the woods, Anwar could change his mind at any time and have me ‘disappeared.’ I found out soon enough as I was taken to see his aide.

‘You are to be released and returned to your hotel.’ Yacoub told me, ‘you will be under house arrest there and on no account are you to leave until sent for.’ He glared at me as if what he was saying stuck in his craw. ‘Do you understand?’ I nodded ‘If you attempt to escape you will be shot dead, is that clear?’

‘May I use the grounds and veranda?’

‘In the daytime, yes. At dusk, you must return indoors. Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

I was returned to the hospital where the doctor examined me again. He gave me more painkillers and a couple of sleeping tablets. ‘Take these if the pain returns and one of these at night for sleep. Be careful, they are powerful, do not take more than one.’

Two hours later I was sitting in a deep, comfortable chair on the hotel veranda with a glass of cool orange juice thinking of ways to communicate with Harriet when up walked Abdul. Ignoring the ominous presence of the two secret policemen sitting in their air-conditioned SUV across the street he said ‘hi boss, where we go today? ‘Not far, eh?’

‘I thought you would have gone home’ I told him.

He smiled, ‘you pay Abdul one week, Abdul stay one week.’ Then his smile disappeared. He scowled, nodding at the SUV ‘those bastards are what is wrong for Libya’ he said in his deeply accented voice ‘no freedom here. Bastards!'

His usual cheerful manner had deserted him for the moment as he delivered this speech. ‘Bastards’ he spat again and then winked at me. ‘I will help you, sir, any way I can.’ He pointed at his chest ‘I, Abdul, good Muslim, honest man. Allah will reward.’

If this was an act it was a bloody good one. Looking into his open, smiling face all I saw was a simple, honest man who was pissed off with being pushed around by a regime he hated. He was either very brave or very naïve.

‘Abdul my friend, I need to get to a phone that isn’t bugged, Obviously, I cannot use the ones here.’

He answered immediately ‘My cousin he have phone for he business, he burial person, you understand?’

‘You mean he’s an undertaker? Is he here in Derna?’

‘Yes, yes, all dead buried same day here. He must be quick, so he need phone. Peoples call all day, all night. Police take no notice him, he not important.’

The SUV driver must have mistaken Abdul for a waiter, he honked his horn and waved him over. ‘Go and see what they want Abdul’ he threw his head back and sniffed contemptuously, but he went without question.

Abdul went into the hotel and emerged five minutes later with coffee for two and biscuits on a tray, carrying them over to my guards. He then returned to me, a look of disgust on his face. ‘Those animals say how come I speak American? I tell them I once was forced to work for British dogs who beat me and made me speak. They think I speak only very few words. They believe anything bad about British so I OK’ his smile was wide and genuine ‘they think all work people dumb bastards.’

I felt the pills in my pocket, an idea forming in my head. I had to leave the hotel, but the back door was out of the question two cooks slept in the kitchen on standby every night and the cops were sure to be watching the back. The guys in the SUV had the front covered even if I could slip past the reception desk unnoticed, which was unlikely.

As darkness fell the SUV was replaced by an identical vehicle. The two men inside were dressed like the other two in cheap suits and both still wore sunglasses after the sun had gone down.

In my room, I ground the two sleeping pills to powder in a teacup using a spoon. It was slow, laborious work.

After briefing him on my plan, I’d told Abdul to come to my room at midnight. I gave him the ground up powder and instructed him. He laughed and said it was an honour to do it. He went to the kitchen and made coffee for the secret cops.

Half an hour later I was sitting on my windowsill watching what little I could see of the SUV when Abdul’s torched flashed his signal. I eased the window open and slid out onto the veranda roof. It was old and wooden and creaked a bit but, with care, I reached the end safely and slid down a support. Abdul was waiting. We crept a couple of hundred yards up the deserted street in the darkness to where he’d left the car.

Abdul's half a kilometre turned out to be five, but we arrived without incident. Abdul’s cousin, his wife and seven kids, had found an excuse to visit relatives. It was safer for them to remain nameless and blameless, it made sense that I shouldn’t be able to identify them or they me if caught and tortured. It would be down to me and maybe Abdul who seemed to relish the adventure.

We approached quietly from the rear so as not to disturb the neighbours. We entered through an unlocked gate, across a yard stacked with timber and coffins lining the walls awaiting their unappreciative occupants. I couldn’t help noticing how small and flimsy the coffins were compared to western ones. I got through to Harriet on her direct line.

‘Where the hell are you?’ she sounded anxious ‘we thought you were probably dead and buried in an anonymous grave somewhere.’

I told her as briefly as possible what had happened, that I was stuck for the moment but looking for opportunities to cause as much mischief for the Provo's as possible.

She didn’t sound convinced and asked if she should start a diplomatic process to extract me. I told her on no account do that, Anwar would probably bump me off and deny all knowledge of me. I wanted to find out the name of the ship and it’s sailing time, so it could be intercepted. I had a plan forming I told her, even though I’d no bloody idea about what to do. I wasn’t in charge of events, but I had to have a go at stopping this lethal shipment.

We drove back and parked at a distance. Abdul insisted on creeping up the SUV for a look. He returned grinning from ear to ear. ‘Bastards snoring like camels’ he said.

He helped me climb onto the veranda roof again and I spread my weight as much as possible and slid back to my room. I took a shower and climbed into bed. I didn’t need any sleeping pills, I was exhausted.

After two more boring days, I was sent for. Anwar seemed in a good mood. ‘Ah, Murphy, come in, take a seat, I have good news for you’ he beamed a Yasser Arafat smile ‘You check out OK in America, we have people who do these things for us. Your friend O’Rourke was very helpful once our people kidnapped him. He transferred the two million into my account although we had to coax him a little.’

He faked a sad smile ‘Poor Mr O’Rourke met with a tragic accident whilst crossing the road shortly after transferring the funds.’ His smile turned grim. ‘The rest of his organisation are fighting among themselves, deciding who now takes over.’ His face turned deadly serious now and his voice dropped into a low menacing tone ‘that only leaves the million in escrow’ he said, I hope there won’t be a need to persuade you also.’

I assured him there would not be. I made the call to the lawyer. He knew about the death of O'Rourke and that the escrow had reverted to me. I backed up my request by fax. It took another day for the funds to materialise. I was to be a guest at Anwar's villa until he had his money.

Next day he called me to his study, his face wore its usual scowl ‘Ah Murphy, you have been both a nuisance and a blessing in disguise’ his voice was neutral. ‘What would you do with me if our positions were reversed?’ he asked. There was no humour in his eyes. I knew what I would have liked to do to the bastard, but I couldn’t encourage him to think along those lines.

I thought for a few seconds looking as serious as he. ‘Well now General,’ I said, ‘I see your problem’ I considered some more then said, ‘you now see me feeless and, you might assume, resentful.’ Before he could interrupt I continued ‘you could simply dispose of me now you have your funds.’

He looked hard at me and nodded ‘that had crossed my mind. Tell me, why should I not do that?'

‘From my point of view, General, one cannot have too many friends or people willing to act on one’s behalf overseas. I suggest you let me keep the fifty grand for expenses and you keep in touch with me, after all, with or pal O’Rourke gone, you now need someone you can contact to negotiate with the arms smugglers and dealers without getting ripped off.’

He scowled and nodded ‘as you have seen with the O’Rourke incident, we have people who can do things for us if need be.’

‘Of course, but I’ll wager they cost you quite a bit, plus all the delay and hassle. Who needs it? And the Irish trust me I lied. My fees are reasonable, and I have seen your power first hand, so I’d be a be fool to cross you. For that reason alone, I can be trusted.’

He considered this for a moment then said, ‘you have a point, but once I release you what guarantees have I got that you’ll not just disappear?’

‘That’s a good question’ I conceded, ‘the answer is simple as far as I’m concerned. You, General, have opened my eyes to the size of fees available in your business, they far outshine anything I could earn in normal commerce. If I were to facilitate arms shipments, negotiate on your behalf, keeping you at one remove from the dealers and freedom fighters, your international reputation stays intact, ensuring no embarrassing publicity. This way the arms get to the right people, and your fees are promptly paid, then I would charge a reasonable fee, say fifteen percent of the value of your fee?’

The general threw his head back and burst out laughing, sounding genuinely amused ‘you cheeky, greedy bastard’ he said, ‘you’ll be lucky to get three percent. That will amount to far more than you’ll ever earn in your present role.’

‘In my present role, General, sir, I’m in no danger of getting shot or going to jail.’ I told him.

Just then the door opened, Yacoub came in, gave me a sour look and whispered a message into his boss’s ear. Anwar nodded, his facial expression serious. After his man withdrew Anwar said ‘A couple of nights ago an unusual international call was made to an untraceable number. It was made in the early hours of the morning from the telephone of a small businessman with no overseas connections. The man himself was away visiting relatives at the time and reported his house broken into whilst he was gone’ he stared at me with eyes of ice.

I looked at him with polite interest ‘how does this concern me, General?' I asked. I knew my guards would never have reported that they had been asleep on duty. They would be signing their own death warrants.

He rubbed his stubbly chin for a while then suddenly said ‘come with me’ he rose and walked briskly from the room. At the front door, he signalled an SUV. He didn’t say where we were going, and I didn’t ask for fear of annoying the bugger. To say I felt nervous was an understatement, my guts were trembling inside but with a huge effort, I managed to keep it under control.

We drove down to the docks and through the gates to a Greek-registered freighter, a rusty scow of around four thousand tons. We stopped alongside and boarded her.

Up in the bridge, the captain greeted us in good English. Captain Papadopoulos was a swarthy man in his late fifties, of large proportions with tousled hair, devious eyes and the breath of a lion. He literally reeked of garlic and unwashed armpits, which he scratched constantly.

He ignored me and addressed Anwar ‘Ah General, not before time. I have lost half my crew, they get bored waiting here and get jobs on other ships.’

Anwar brushed aside the complaint with a wave ‘how many crew have you left?’

‘Five only sir, enough to crew her if we don’t have any emergencies.’

‘Well now you have six’ Anwar said, ‘this is Mr Murphy, he’ll be sailing with you. He probably hasn’t sailed before but he’s quick-minded and will learn fast.’

I was shocked at this and it must have shown. ‘I’ll explain on the way back’ he told me ‘in the meantime I’d like you to inspect the arms just to show they exist and I’m sincere.’

Sincere my arse, I thought, he could play fast and loose only so far with Gadaffi who would lose face if the arms he’d promised to a terrorist group then failed to materialise. That Anwar was corrupt and made money on the side must have been known to Gadaffi, but he didn’t care. As long as he kept his cronies happy he was safe.

I was escorted to the hold by Anwar and a scruffy, barefooted sailor in jeans and a dirty singlet who eyed me with open hostility.

The haul was simply staggering. If this lot got to the Provos there would be many more widows and orphans in the UK. I had to find a way of stopping it but being on board would stymie me. The hold would be sealed before we sailed, and the hatch was directly in front of the bridge. If the powers that be decided I was expendable, then a torpedo whilst crossing the Bay of Biscay or an airstrike from Cyprus would serve nicely. Anywhere where there was deep water and no witnesses.

God, this was the buggeration factor working overtime. I had hoped he’d release me to the airport. I could have reported the shipment and had the harbour watched by satellite. Any UK bound ships could be tracked and boarded in international waters by the Navy or simply sunk.

As we drove back to the villa he said, ‘you see, Mr Jack Murphy, you may be a lot cleverer than I think you are. A spy, in fact.’

‘A spy?’ I sounded incredulous, letting my mouth hang open, ‘what on earth makes you think that?’

'I don’t like co-incidence Mr Murphy, that phone call was made only five kilometres from your hotel after 1 a.m. It bothers me. I can’t see how it could possibly be you who made it with my best men guarding you. The phone’s owner is a peasant coffin maker and stupid. He speaks only Arabic and has no concept of international affairs. We threatened his wife and children and he started screaming, terrified. His wife fainted. Your driver, too, is another peasant, he hardly has a word of English, you must find him difficult.’

I nodded ‘Oh, yeah, I do’ I said with feeling, ‘he’s s**t thick.’

‘He, too, was threatened and fell to his knees wailing. He has reported every move you’ve made since you arrived as ordered. These little people live in fear of the state, Murphy, and know well the penalty for lying, even so…….’

I wanted to smash his smarmy face to pulp, the arrogant bastard, but I kept my face straight and nodded again. I follow your logic General’ I said, ‘but I can assure you I am not working for the American government or any of their agencies. They pay peanuts and expect far too much in return.’ I forced a bleak smile, ‘one cannot spend patriotism, I’m sure you understand’ he smiled knowingly. Of course the bastard understood, greed was a way of life for him and he judged everyone else by his own abysmal standards.

‘If I really thought you were a spy you’d be dead by now Murphy. However, as added insurance, if you’re travelling on the ship the Americans and British will be reluctant to destroy her; they are squeamish about such matters.’

‘They would have no way of knowing I was on the ship surely?’ I said.

‘Maybe’ he conceded, maybe not. It’s just a precaution for me and a free vacation for you.’

I was given my suitcase and the fifty thousand dollars to use as bribe money. If we were stopped and searched, I was to buy us clearance. I was warned to let no one aboard the Sirius B know I had it. I was dropped off at the Crescent Moon and told I had an hour to eat and pack. I needed only a few minutes. I asked at the desk for Abdul and was directed to a patch of trees at the rear of the hotel.

I found him fast asleep on the back seat of his Merc. He greeted me with his usual smile. ‘Hi boss, those bastards threatened me with torture, but I cried and act very scared. I tell them I report you every move. They check, find it true. I pretend I will inform for them, they let me go with just a few punches and kicks. They frighten cousin, too. I not tell cousin about phone, l tell him I meet woman there, but must be secret.’ He smiled at his own cleverness, one had to be ultra-discreet about illicit affairs in Libya. ‘I lie to protect him. Allah will forgive.’

I knew he’d taken an enormous risk for me and with no promise of reward. He was just an ordinary, decent guy who was looking to get even with the regime that persecuted him. Any small blow against Gadaffi’s lot seemed like a major victory to him. Helping me was his way of striking back.

He grinned and held up two splayed fingers, something he'd learned from the British ‘f**k them’ he said, ‘f**k them all, bastards.’

I knew he and his cousin weren’t out of danger yet. Anwar’s men would dig further, deeper. They’d find out the two were cousins then they’d lift them and torture them and their children until they got to the bottom of the mysterious phone call. I would get dumped overboard by the ship’s crew and Abdul and his cousin would either end their days rotting in some hell-hole prison or be driven up the high escarpment behind Derna into the desert, shot and dumped. I looked around and saw the place was not overlooked. ‘I’d like to thank you Abdul my friend and help you escape this piss-hole country. You are in great danger here.’ I gave him forty of the fifty grand. ‘Go collect your cousin and his family, pick up your wife this very day, leave everything and get out. Go to Egypt and start a new life. They’ll come for you when they find out you are cousins.’

He looked at the money, his mouth agape. Tears welled in his eyes ‘you would do this for Abdul?’ his lips trembled ‘you are sent by Allah himself, may he bless you.’ He grabbed me in a bear hug that went on for ages until I prised him off. Tears were streaming down his craggy face. ‘I go now, yes?’ he asked, wiping his eyes.

‘You go now, yes’ I told him. He jumped at me again, flinging his arms around my neck once more, his tears were flowing freely; a stream of Arabic came in a torrent until I pushed him away. ‘Go now’ I told him, ‘take your taxi, your wife and cousin and his family and don’t return.’

He wiped his eyes, kissed me on both cheeks, and was gone. I’m not a praying man, but I wished fervently they would make it over the border. Giving Abdul the money was no big deal for me, I would have to have handed it in any way. This way it did some good where good was desperately needed and served to protect us both.

What was to come of me God of alone knew.