Free Ultimatum by Antony Trew Page A

Right?’
    Levi nodded agreement, watching the big shaggy man with affection. He had much respect for Shalom Ascher.
    ‘Who is this Zeid?’ continued Ascher. ‘We don’t know. But it sounds as though he’s got something to do with the consignment.’
    Levi said, ‘And the consignment?’
    Ascher shrugged his shoulders. ‘Who knows. They don’t say. The Middle Orient Consolidated Agencies Limited …’ He rolled out the words deliberately. ‘And they’re expecting it from Athens.’
    ‘That fits, doesn’t it? I mean they are import and export agents. The name of the firm doesn’t necessarily restrict them to doing business with the Middle East.’
    ‘If they really were, you’re right. But they’re phoneys, Zol. We’ve heard them talk for two weeks – jaw, jaw, jaw – haven’t we? That’s the first time they chat about any goods coming in or going out. So what sort of import/export agents are they? Anyway, here they are in business at last. But with Athens – not Beirut or Damascus?’ He spread his hands with an air of finality. ‘Don’t ask me why?’
    ‘So we’re no wiser.’
    ‘I wouldn’t say that, Zol, Notice something queer in the chat about the consignment?’
    ‘Not really. Bits of it weren’t all that distinct.’
    ‘That’s it.’ Ascher stared at the younger man.
    ‘How d’you mean, that’s it?’
    ‘Each time they talk about the consignment it’s like they’re talking of God or Allah, or whatever. They get serious. Full of respect. They drop their voices instinctively. There was that bit that sounded like whispering and we couldn’t make it out. Right?’
    Levi said, ‘Yes. Now you mention it. It is like that.’
    ‘Another thing. Here are these import and export agents doing business for the first time in the two weeks we’ve been listening. They’re expecting a consignment. But they never say who it is for, or when it is coming, or how it’s coming. Know why? Either they don’t know or they’re security conscious or both. And that goes for the dropped voices, etcetera.’
    ‘What’s it then, Shalom?’
    Ascher picked up a paper-weight, threw it into the air and caught it with an outstretched hand. ‘I think the attack on the Embassy will take place not long after Zeid and the consignment arrive. And that won’t be long now because Kissinger and Sadat are making progress. The Palestinians can’t afford to be left out of any Israeli-Egyptian settlement that Kissinger’s cooking up.’
    Levi pursed his lips. ‘So we do what?’
    ‘We go on watching and listening. Every second, every minute. Night and day. We have problems. We don’t know what the consignment is. We don’t know how it’s coming or when, except they expect it soon.’ Ascher sat down, a bearded, brooding figure. ‘So we watch and we listen and maybe we find out.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Levi. ‘That’s about it.’
    ‘In the meantime I see the Ambassador tonight.’
    ‘What shall you tell him, Shalom?’
    ‘What we’ve seen and heard. What we think. He’ll pass it to Intel HQ. They’ll have ideas, you can be sure.’
    Levi made a face. ‘More of Jakob’s possibles and probables .’
    ‘Right,’ said Shalom Ascher. ‘And sometimes they’re good.’
     
    The Air France flight from Athens arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport at 11.57 am. It was twenty-three minutes late having been delayed in Rome with engine trouble.
    At the immigration barrier the bearded man showed his Algerian passport. The immigration officer noted the name on the immigration form, ‘Simon Dufour’, and other answers, opened the passport with professional ease, checked the details, compared the bearded long-haired young man in the photo with the bearded long-haired original standing in front of him, closed it and passed it back. ‘Bon,’ he said, turning to the next passenger in the queue. The bearded man moved on through the complex of travellators which gave the new airport its science-fiction ambience,