Part 25 (2/2)

'Wear always, Kuhn Marks, except when with woman or when in toilet or when in bath, mai dee mai dee. Wear in sea or lake is okay, dee mak mak dee mak mak. No harm come to you, Kuhn Marks. You have good luck. Buddha look after you. Tomorrow you buy gold chain for Buddha. Wear always, Kuhn Marks.'

'Ka poon kap, Sompop, thank you. How is the tuktuk tuktuk going?' going?'

'Ah, Kuhn Marks, Sompop no more have tuktuk tuktuk. You give money. I buy flower-seller business. You number one, Kuhn Marks.'

Sompop now had a gang of flower sellers hawking their wares to free-spending businessmen having a night of drinking and f.u.c.king in Patpong. As a means of intelligence-gathering, these would be second to none. I tried him out.

'Sompop, have you seen my friend, the one I was with when I first met you?'

'You mean Kuhn Phil. I know him but he no recognise me. Two night ago, him drink in Kings Castle with big black fahlang fahlang and and fahlang fahlang from Amsterdam. Last night he leave for Australia.' from Amsterdam. Last night he leave for Australia.'

So Mickey Williams had somehow got hold of Phil, and the Dutch air-freight scam had, presumably, been resurrected, this time without me. I couldn't really complain. I didn't own Phil, and it wasn't I who had introduced him to Mickey. But I was glad to know what was going on. Sompop was proving most useful.

At a Bangkok's jeweller's I bought a gold chain and also set the Buddha into a gold frame. I put it round my neck. I would abide by its rules.

At Hong Kong I met Daniel, Gerry's powerfully built boat skipper. An Alaskan crab boat had been bought. It was being prepared for its duties. Daniel gave me a few hundred thousand dollars. I gave it to Malik's friend in BCCI. Daniel also gave me a ghetto-blaster which had been modified into a short-wave radio transmitter/receiver. One could sit on a beach with it and communicate to the boat without attracting attention. Daniel wanted me to take it to Karachi. He said Gerry was on his way to London to see me.

A night in Hong Kong, drinking in Bottoms Up, was followed by another night in Bangkok, and then a day in Karachi. I put Dan's ghetto-blaster into a room in George and a.s.sumpta's house that had been set aside for my own use.

I flew to Zurich to meet Hobbs. I was still too nervous to go to Amsterdam. I owed them seven months of my life. Hobbs said he thought the Amsterdam telephone-switching system, through which the previous few months' travel, meeting, and banking arrangements had all been made, had been compromised. He couldn't put his finger on the problem. It was just a feeling he had. He looked extremely worried. I told him to close down the Amsterdam operation, give me a bunch of pa.s.sport photographs, and have a holiday in Bangkok. I told him how to contact Sompop.

In London, Gerry Wills, together with a friend of his, Ron Allen, had arrived before me. They'd brought some money. I'd asked John Denbigh and Jarvis to relieve them of the cash and take care of them until I got back. John and Jarvis both thought they had been observed during their meetings with Gerry and Ron. Another worry.

Ron Allen was from Chicago and was a major distributor of marijuana in the Midwest and Canada. Gerry wanted Ron to check the quality of the dope in Karachi. I couldn't see that as presenting any problem.

Jimmy Newton gave me a false pa.s.sport in the name of William Tetley. I gave him some money, orders for three false pa.s.sports, and six photographs of Hobbs.

Hong Kong International Travel Centre's Piccadilly office was officially opened by His Excellency Hu Ding-Yi, the Amba.s.sador for the People's Republic of China, and Madame Xie Heng, the Amba.s.sador's wife. His Excellency was introduced by Peter Brooke, the Member of Parliament for the area. Other guests included the Right Honourable Lord Beth.e.l.l, MEP, senior members of foreign Emba.s.sies, and Hong Kong Government officials. Over a hundred people from the travel industry were present. I had invited all my family and friends. They would be impressed and comforted by my legitimate business success. We were the tenth largest travel agency in Great Britain, and we were doing most of the ticketing to Hong Kong and China. My daughter Francesca presented the Amba.s.sador's wife with a bouquet of flowers.

Balendo had become very keen on exploiting Malik's relations.h.i.+p with Pakistan International Airlines to offer a cheap deal to China. He wanted to go to Pakistan and do some of his own travel research. I suggested he go immediately. I could use his company over there to lend credibility to my travel-agent cover. Visiting Karachi with two well-known American dope dealers, one needs all the front one can get.

Balendo, Gerry, Ron, and I flew separately to Karachi. I went first. I got drunk on the flight and reeled through Karachi airport looking for George and a.s.sumpta, whom I'd asked to meet me. They were nowhere to be seen. I thought they might be waiting in their car outside. I walked out into the open car park. I could see the yellow ILCK car about twenty yards away. George and a.s.sumpta were standing by its side, waving. To my left was a white car with three Caucasians inside. The driver looked like Harlan Lee Bowe. I drunkenly staggered up to the car. It was Bowe.

'You waiting for me?' I slurred.

The three stared at me in embarra.s.sed silence.

'Come on, admit it. You're waiting for me, aren't you?'

'Why do you think we are waiting for you?' one of the others said in a p.r.o.nounced Dutch accent. I guessed him to be Holland's 'drug man' in Pakistan.

'I'm expecting to be met. You're obviously waiting for someone, aren't you? Are you sure it's not me? Who are you waiting for? What are you doing here?'

'Look,' drawled Bowe, 'we are not here to meet you, okay. Who were you expecting to see?'

'Someone who fits your description.'

'His name?' asked Bowe.

What the h.e.l.l was I doing? It was definitely not cool to be having this drunken banter with the DEA and Dutch CRI while I was in the middle of the biggest deal I'd ever done from Pakistan. I wriggled out.

'Ah, there's the guy I'm meeting. Sorry.'

I walked over to the ILCK car and got inside.

Balendo was arriving the next day. At the arrivals hall, I was peculiarly pleased to catch sight of Her Majesty's Customs and Excise Officer Michael Stephenson furtively creeping around and whispering to Pakistani Immigration Officers. Let him see me meet Balendo. Let him see my impenetrable straight front. This would be fun.

Balendo did not emerge. Stephenson had disappeared. I gave it another hour, then asked an Immigration Officer if any more pa.s.sengers from London were still to come through. I was told there were always some delays. I called Malik. Aftab and Malik arrived within about forty minutes. Malik had checked the pa.s.senger list. Balendo was on it. Malik had rung up the Immigration Department. Balendo was being detained. No further information.

I found this hard to take. Why would Balendo get held? If this happened to my straightest contact, what would happen when Gerry and Ron arrived tomorrow? Should I stop them?

Malik went to the airport Immigration Office. He would have a friend or cousin who worked there. After a while he reappeared with three Pakistani Immigration Officers and Balendo. Immigration were maintaining there was some irregularity in Balendo's pa.s.sport. It was a British Hong Kong pa.s.sport, which as such did not ent.i.tle the bearer to quite the same range of privileges as a normal British pa.s.sport. However, as Malik had offered to sponsor Balendo, it would be all right for Balendo to spend his intended few days in Pakistan. Malik seemed content with the explanation. I wasn't. Perhaps simply because I'd noticed Stephenson.

George and a.s.sumpta had employed a secretary for the school. She was one of the very few Chinese living in Pakistan. Her mother, Ellie, ran an illegal Chinese restaurant which was very popular with the Europeans, almost a home from home.

We thought it would be a good idea to take Balendo, who was staying with us in George's house, for a meal. Some Cantonese noodles might help him recover from his immigration ordeal. Armed with a few bottles of wine, the four of us turned up at Ellie's. Sitting at a table were Bowe, the Dutch cop, and a few others. On the wall above them was a large poster advertising the International Language Centre, Karachi. They looked astonished to see Balendo. They got up and left. We had a good meal.

Malik and Aftab were waiting for us at George's house. The Immigration Department had just called Malik. Balendo had to go back in detention. Malik had arranged that Balendo be 'detained' at the Karachi airport hotel, but that was the best he could do. We drove Balendo to the hotel. Balendo apparently fitted the description of a wanted Chinese heroin trafficker and could not be officially let into the country until extensive enquiries had been made.

Something was clearly adrift. Balendo has an enormous raspberry birthmark covering the side of his face. There isn't another birthmark like it in the world.

The hotel was comfortable enough, but Balendo had seen enough of Karachi. He didn't feel he could recommend it as a stopover to China. He wanted to go home. Malik fixed it.

George and a.s.sumpta had made a number of friends in Karachi. One of them was Eddie, an American who was a medical consultant at the Aga Khan Hospital. He was away for a week and had garaged his car for safe-keeping at George's house. The afternoon after Balendo's arrival, I dressed up in my Afridi costume and drove Eddie's car to the airport. Gerry and Ron were arriving from London. They had flown via Amsterdam. I hung about in a crowd of Pakistanis waiting for their friends and families to arrive. Bowe and Stephenson, each wearing dark gla.s.ses, drove up in the same white car I'd seen previously and ran into the airport. They quickly returned, got into another car, a dark blue one, and drove off.

Gerry and Ron came through Customs and Immigration. They laughed at my outfit as we climbed into Eddie's car. I gave each of us a ready-rolled joint of our freshly made has.h.i.+sh. Blue fumes filled the car. I drove off in the direction of the city centre.

It wasn't long before the dark blue car appeared in the rear mirror. As a pedestrian I have no difficulty losing a tail. As a driver I do, particularly when I'm stoned. I couldn't think where to go. Bowe and Stephenson did not know I was driving this car. They were following Gerry and Ron, not me. There was no pressing reason to think they knew we were fellow scammers. I shouldn't go anywhere where I was known. But I only knew how to get to places where I was known. G.o.d, I was stoned.

I mustn't let Bowe and Stephenson get any information they don't already know. That's the key. I drove Eddie's car to the Aga Khan Hospital and parked in the car park. Ron turned down the radio.

'Whaw, this is some hash you got us, buddy. What do you think of it, Ron? You gotta sell it,' said Gerry.

'I'm stoned all right, guys, but I'd like to smoke some without tobacco, and without that f.u.c.king music. Man, is this place primitive. It's like Mexico. Howard, why are we parked in this hospital? You got an appointment or a sudden medical problem? Don't tell me this is where the dope's stashed.'

'Hey, that's real cool,' said Gerry, 'stas.h.i.+ng it in a hospital. I told you, Ron, this Howard is something else. Do you have another joint, buddy? This one's kinda had it. Man, this is good gear.'

'The DEA were waiting for you at the airport here.'

'So f.u.c.king what?' said Ron. 'Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds wait for us everywhere. They were always on our backs in Mexico. They don't know what we're doing here. They don't even know where we are right this minute.'

'Yeah, it would be a drag if they knew where our stash was,' commented Gerry.

'They followed us here from the airport. They're probably parked outside waiting for us to leave. The stash is nowhere near here.'

'Then why the f.u.c.k are we here?' asked Ron. 'Let's drive off, lose the tail, and go to the stash.'

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