Chapter Five
Although the King David Hotel was exalted in many high-quality travel brochures, any form of prose could hardly do it justice but it had to be said that the hotel, being exquisite in every sense of the word, had no conscience in setting its tariff at an eminent level. For most people, spending a day in the hotel might cost them as much as a month at home, but no one ever complained that it wasn’t value for money. There was a multitude of well-dressed hotel staff available to attend to one’s bidding at a moment’s notice, a menu that could hardly be challenged, luxury at every turn, and a highly-sophisticated atmosphere. We arrived there quite early and the head-waiter led us to an open verandah where Musaphia was already waiting.
‘Jason Scott and Penny Smith,’ I announced as we reached the table. ‘You rang us yesterday inviting us for breakfast.’
‘Welcome to my table,’ he returned in a shrill voice without moving from his chair. ‘Sit down!’ He stared at Penny for a few moments to admire her face and hair. ‘You look very pretty, my dear,’ he complimented warmly. ‘I like having pretty ladies around me. Apart from anything else, it makes one feel young again.’
She smiled at him pleasantly as we sat down and I scanned him clinically. He was very thin with a wizened tanned face and wore a spotless white suit, a white shirt and a small red bow-tie. He sported a short pointed beard which was very grey although his hair was dark with white streaks reaching back from the temples, giving the impression that he used hair-dye. A large Cuban cigar was held firmly between his lips which seemed to remain in the same position whenever he spoke. He waved his hand without looking around and a waiter approached to stand hovering at the edge of the table in anticipation of his instructions.
‘What would you like for breakfast?’ asked Musaphia bluntly. ‘Don’t worry about the cost. It’s on me.’
‘I’ll have eggs and bacon with toast and coffee if that’s all right,’ I responded innocently.
‘No… it’s not all right,’ returned our host, with a smile touching the corners of his mouth. ‘No one here eats of the pig.’
I became extremely embarrassed and apologised for my ignorance modifying the order to a Continental breakfast as I waited to find out what he wanted to discuss.
He examined my face before breaking the ice. ‘You look in pretty poor shape,’ he began as though concerned about my welfare. ‘Bruises on your face… and no doubt on your body too. You really should take more care of yourself. I gave up all that stuff a long time ago. Life’s too short to suffer from fisticuffs and fights. Personally, I always thought it unnecessary but other people enjoy violence. I’d better lay my cards on the table. Normally, you would never have met me. I don’t usually deal with small fish. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to stay at this hotel. I’d be relegated to an area such as Arlosoroff Road.’ He guffawed briefly at his own comment in his shrill thin voice. ‘I deal in diamonds…
Industrial diamonds… in particular certain types of precious jewels. But for the moment that’s beside the point. The concept of the 21st Century Crusaders is the subject of discussion. As far as I’m concerned, it makes a lot of sense… and I’m always right. If I wasn’t always right I would never have become rich.’ He stopped to stare directly into my eyes. ‘Tell me… what do you think of the organisation?’
I hesitated before replying to the question. ‘I’ve seen nothing of it as yet,’ I replied, ‘except for a trip to the Gaza Strip. Commander Yasood offered a generic view but it was very brief. Having said that, I suppose it’s possible someone will stir things up among the Arabs when they realise that the oil will soon start to run out. Who wouldn’t if they knew there was going to be nothing more than poverty to look forward to in the future.’
‘Possible?’ he reacted vehemently. ‘It’s more than possible. It’s definitely going to happen. The reservoir of oil in the Middle East is not inexhaustible. It will have to run dry. That’s why I’ve invited you here today to find out what you intend to do about it. But I wish to make one point clear. We’re not talking about Arabs but Islam. There are many non-Arabs who follow the Islamic faith.’
‘Before we go any further,’ I countered angrily, feeling my temper rising. ‘can we get a few things straight. ‘In my present state of mind and in my poor physical condition where I’ve been involved in a plane crash and incarcerated in a filthy prison cell before being transported out here, I have no intention of doing anything. I have no idea why your organisation wishes to recruit me. I can’t see any way in which I can help although for some obscure reason they do. I don’t belong the them. I don’t belong to any cause. Am I making myself clear?’
He seemed to be completely calm about my tirade. ‘That information has already been passed to me, Mr. Scott,’ he forwarded easily. I know how you feel and I also know the reason why you’ve been brought here.’
‘Ah… at last someone who knows why they’re trying to recruit me. Can you tell me why?
‘It’s not my business to release that sort of information. Just be patient and all will be revealed to you in due course.’
‘And when will that be?’ I demanded irately. ‘When will someone tell me what’s going on?’
‘When it happens,’ he told me tersely. ‘When it happens.’ At that moment, the waiter arrived bearing my breakfast on a silver tray. ‘Come!’ continued Musaphia completely ignoring my minor tantrum. ‘Eat before your adrenalin causes concern for your digestion. He paused until the waiter had finished pouring the coffee before continuing. ‘I should imagine you wage a vendetta with the person who installed a bomb in the cockpit of the plane taking you to Crete.’
‘You can say that again,’ I muttered curtly.
‘When you fish in these waters you continue to risk your life. There are spies and assassins everywhere in the Middle East. They breed here like flies. If you happen to say the wrong thing to the wrong people, or even do something that makes them suspicious, your life won’t be worth a fig. Treachery is a common cause. And, lets face it, as a foreigner, you stand out like a sore thumb in this region. I’ve had a lot of experience. Experience you would never believe possible.’
‘Buying bags of diamonds and carting them from here to there,’ I riposted rudely. ‘I’m not particularly interested in your experiences, Mr. Musaphia.
He removed a small pistol from his pocket and pointed it directly at my head. I felt the blood run cold in my veins. Surely he wasn’t going to shoot me in the restaurant of the King David Hotel! But then stranger things had happened to us in the past two days. He pressed the trigger slowly and a small flame spurted from the from the end of the gun which he used to relight the end of his cigar. As I relaxed, I felt as though all the blood had drained out of my body.
‘If life was only that simple,’ returned the old man starting to philosophise. ‘You’re still young. You don’t understand. How old do you think I am? Sixty-five… seventy… seventy-five? I’m eighty-four and still in the run of things. I attended coronations you would have to read about in books. Why do I look so much younger? I really don’t know especially having be caught up in a world war so horrifying you’d never dream it could take place in a civilised society. I’m talking about the holocaust in the Second World War where over six million Jews were singled out for torture, experiments and mass extermination. I was in one of those camps. I know what it was like.’
‘Mr. Musaphia,’ I reminded him, ‘we came here at your invitation expecting to hear something that might be important to us. All these reminiscences…’