Part 21 (1/2)

'Do you know anything about paper-mill business, D. H. Marks? I am wanting to buy second-hand paper-mill machinery from closed-down factories in Great Britain. Paper-mill business will be really wonderful business here in Pakistan.'

'I'll have a look when I get back to London. Let me know exactly what you want. Do you need anything else from England?'

'Yes, information about good schools in Great Britain for my children.'

'I'd be glad to, Malik. I'm not staying here long. I need to get to Hong Kong. I'll give your BCCI man $500,000. I'll find out which date is preferable for air-freighting the consignment. A few days before the date, I'll come back here to Karachi from Hong Kong with $500,000 cash. You give me the air waybill. I'll give you the money.'

'All right. This is good. But don't forget to let me know which flight you are on. Oh, that reminds me, D. H. Marks. Phones in Pakistan are not safe to use. I have own operator, my cousin. When he is on duty, I know phone is not tapped. Otherwise, might be tapped. When you call, maybe he is not on duty. Do you have legitimate business with telex machine in London?'

'Yes, of course. You want me to communicate with you by telex in future?'

'I prefer. I have big travel agency here in central Karachi, next to American Express building. I will give you the telex number. Always put telex message in terms of legitimate business. And think carefully, D. H. Marks, about legitimate business, like paper-mill, here in Pakistan. We should have some legitimate business between us.'

'Malik, can your travel agency get PIA airline tickets cheaper than anyone else?'

'Of course. All Customs Officers and government peoples use my agency, Travel International. My cousin is in very senior position in PIA. It is under-counter price, not official. But PIA does not fly to Hong Kong. I will get you complimentary first-cla.s.s return ticket to Hong Kong on Lufthansa. This is only airline that flies directly between Karachi and Hong Kong.'

'Thank you very much, Malik. The reason I ask, though, is that I have a Chinese friend who runs a travel agency in London. Most of his business is with people travelling to the Far East. As PIA fly from Pakistan to both England and China, I thought maybe he could provide a cheaper service from London to Peking than his compet.i.tors do by routing pa.s.sengers through here. I don't know. It was just a pa.s.sing thought.'

'I think it is excellent idea, D. H. Marks. Chinese peoples are good peoples. Relations between Pakistan and China are first-cla.s.s. We are very best of neighbours. Did you know that PIA was first-ever foreign airline to go to Communist China? It is no secret that China is testing our atomic bombs. To promote travel to China via Pakistan should be easy matter. I will talk to my family about this.'

Three days later, I was back in Hong Kong, staying at the Shangri-La. From Cable and Wireless, I telephoned Ernie through Flash at LAPD and reported the position. He said to send the consignment from Karachi as soon as possible. Any day was okay.

I booked the next day's Lufthansa flight to Karachi. From a public telex service I sent a telex to Malik: 'Arriving tomorrow with German company UK paper-mill representative.' I took $500,000 in cash from the Hong Kong & Shanghai Bank to Malik's friend in BCCI and then another $500,000 to my room in the Shangri-La. It was a large amount to hide in baggage when flying. There was no real worry. I would simply check it in at Hong Kong airport, and Malik was ensuring I wouldn't get searched or embarra.s.sed on arrival at Karachi airport. Nevertheless, the plane could be diverted from Karachi for some reason, and I might find myself somewhere with some explaining to do. I ought to make some effort to conceal it.

I phoned April and asked her to buy three large and expensive matching suitcases, books on education and schools in England, and books on the paper industry, and arrange for them to be delivered to the Shangri-La Hotel. I rang up Sam Tailor, told him I was delighted with the clothes, said I was on my way back to London, and offered to promote his business as best I could through my connections in London. Did he have any promotional material I could take back? Sam sent over a cardboard box full of cloth samples, brochures, patterns, and sales literature. I rang up April again and asked her to get some lengths of different materials sent round to the hotel.

Wrapping bundles of money in a selection of voiles and silks, I arranged each suitcase so that the top layer, occasionally allowing glimpses of clothing and textile samples, was crammed with innocuous paperwork and sales promotional trivia. I stayed in.

Twenty-four hours later I was standing next to the carousel in Karachi arrivals hall. I rarely did this. When travelling alone, I would almost invariably take just hand luggage. I didn't like checking-in suitcases. I could stand neither the wait nor the weight. The three matching suitcases came up first. The advantages of first-cla.s.s travel: one's luggage was susceptible to no ridiculous weight restrictions and was the first to get unloaded. I'd already grabbed a porter and given him a handful of Pakistani rupees. We trundled over to Customs. There is no green channel in Karachi airport.

'Why are you visiting my country? Is it business, pleasure, or official?'

'Business.'

'May I see your pa.s.sport?'

I expected this question. How else would he know not to search me? Malik would have had to give him my name. I gave the Customs Officer my pa.s.sport.

'I see you visited my country a few days ago. What is your business, sir?'

This question was a surprise. Malik had a.s.sured me there would be no confrontation of this kind.

'I have a few business interests. This visit to your country concerns the paper-mill business.'

'Who will you be seeing in this country?'

'Prospective purchasers of second-hand paper-mill machinery. I represent a British firm who dismantle closed-down paper-mills and sell the equipment.'

'Do you have a business name-card, sir?'

'Yes, I do.'

To say no would have guaranteed a search. My wallet contained three separate business name-cards: I was either a manager of West End Secretarial Services, London; a company director of Drinkbridge Hong Kong Limited, who from other doc.u.mentation could be deduced to be a bulk carrier of water; or a researcher for Drinkbridge (UK) Limited, a wine importation company. None was an obvious choice for a would-be second-hand paper-mill machinery salesman. I picked out one at random.

'According to this, you are in alcohol business. Do you know alcohol is illegal in Pakistan? What is this to do with paper-mill business? Please open this suitcase, sir.'

b.l.o.o.d.y Malik! Why was he letting me go through all this? I opened the suitcase the Customs official was touching. A few books on English public schools tumbled out.

'Are you in book-selling business, too? Please, sir, open this suitcase also.'

It was getting difficult.

'Drinkbridge has been a British family company for generations. The company has several businesses, including bulk haulage, real estate, and heavy plant machinery. We have wine distribution networks throughout the world. A large percentage of our overseas profits is reinvested in the country concerned and channelled into education and cultural promotion. We have plans to finance both paper-mills and schools in Pakistan.'

I opened the second case. Revealed was a variety of literature related to paper manufacturing.

'Please pa.s.s, Mr Marks. Welcome to Pakistan.'

That was close. And he still had my business card. Where was Malik?

The porter wheeled my suitcases outside. Still no sign of Malik or his sidekick, Aftab. Malik had not only failed to protect me against a possible bust, he was also leaving me stranded with $500,000 not knowing where to go.

The airport is one of the few places in Pakistan to have a public telephone box. I called Malik's number. Aftab answered.

'D. H. Marks, how are you? Uncle is not here at the moment. He has been in Baluchistan for a couple of days. He is expected back at any moment. When are you coming to Pakistan?'

'I'm already here. Didn't you get my telex yesterday?'

'No. I have been at the telex machine since Uncle left. There has been nothing from you.'

'I sent a telex saying I'd be arriving today with the German company. You didn't get it? That's impossible. I got an answerback from your telex.'

'No, I did get that telex, but how am I to know that it's from you? It was not signed D. H. Marks; it was from Hong Kong, not London; and we are not doing business with any German company.'

'Aftab, the German company meant Lufthansa, the airline on which I was arriving. Never mind. I'll take a cab to the Sheraton. Tell Uncle Malik to come and see me when he gets back.'

I put the phone down.

'Mr Marks. Mr Marks.'

Someone in uniform was running towards me. I thought I was going to be grabbed and properly searched. I wondered about Pakistani prisons.

'Mr Marks, I am the steward of the Lufthansa aircraft cleaning crew. You left your duty-free perfume on the plane. Here it is.'

I climbed into the Sheraton courtesy bus. It felt safer than a taxi.

'D. H. Marks, I am so sorry. Please believe me. I am so sorry. I am so cross with that stupid Aftab for not understanding simple telex. What is matter with him, I don't know. I a.s.sure you it won't happen again, inshallah inshallah.'

'I'm not going to try it again, Malik. But don't worry. I'm safe and the money's safe. The only bad thing is that the Customs Officer obviously suspected me and he has my business card.'