The Alamut Ambush

Audley grunted, staring over his spectacles directly at Llewelyn, who stared just as directly back. The pot and the kettle; the Mountain and Mahomet. Old acquaintances who had forgotten nothing over the years – and learnt a little too much.

'Llewelyn needs no introduction, I know,' continued Stocker, overcoming the impossible simply by ignoring it. 'But I don't believe you've encountered Yeatman before.'

Audley tore his gaze away from Llewelyn and nodded to the smaller of the nondescripts.

'And – ' began Stocker.

'Cox,' said Audley. 'Special Branch.'

'We've never met, Dr. Audley.' Cox didn't seem put out by being pinned like a butterfly in Audley's memory, merely curious.

'Rome '68. You were pointed out to me,' said Audley, reaching for a chair. Ignoring everyone else he turned back to Llewelyn.

'So someone wants you dead.'

'It would appear so.'

'Is there a short list?' Audley spoke as though the list ought to be long rather than short.

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'Anyone with a vested interest in another Middle Eastern war,'

answered Llewelyn equably.

'Like the P.F.L.P.?'

'It's possible. Or the Sons of Eleazar.'

Audley shook his head. 'If – ' he underscored the word heavily ' if the Sons of Eleazar wanted you dead you're on borrowed time. But it isn't their policy, anyway.'

'Policies change.'

'Has there been a change of policy then?'

Llewelyn considered the question for a moment. For a man discussing his own death he was remarkably cool, Roskill thought.

'To be honest – no, not as far as I know.'

'Have there been any similar killings in recent months? Or attempts?'

'Not in Europe as far as I know.'

'I'd like that checked out.'

Llewelyn nodded towards Yeatman.

'And I must have a complete run-down on what you've been doing recently.'

'Yeatman will supply you with whatever you need.'

Roskill squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He never found an upright chair yet that fitted his behind. Worse, Audley seemed to be steering the conversation away from what seemed to him to be the crucial questions.

'Who are the Sons of Eleazar, for heaven's sake?' he asked.

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'Second generation of the Jewish terrorist groups – like the Stern Gang and the Irgun Zvai Leumi, you might say,' said Llewelyn.

'Another war would suit them very nicely and assassination is part of their tradition.'

'Absolute balderdash!' Audley growled. 'There's not a shred of evidence to prove continuity. I grant you they were terrorist groups, the I.Z.L. and the Stern Gang, but the P.L.F.P.'s their equivalent today. They were occupied territory phenomena —

Lohamei heruth Yisrael, "Freedom fighters of Israel", that's what the Stern Gang called itself. The Sons of Eleazar are simply the lunatic fringe of the Israeli hawks, and even they don't think war is desirable – just inevitable.'

'It's the same family tree,' said Llewelyn. 'They don't like peacemakers now any more than they did when they murdered Bernadotte in '48.'

'And Abdullah and Nokrashi? My God, man – if it's murder statistics you want I can give you ten Arab ones for every Jewish one. It was the Arabs who gave us the word assassin, not the Jews.'

'And the Jews gave us zealot,' said Llewelyn mildly. 'But I don't think etymology is going to help us much. The concepts of political murder and fanaticism are somewhat older ihan our words for them, after all. The point is that in my opinion it could have been either of them, Roskill. What I want you and Audley to try and find out is which one. You can leave the rest to us then.'

'But so far your evidence is merely hypothetical, Arabs and Jews have been known to kill people. Some Arabs and Jews don't like dummy2

peacemakers. You are a peacemaker. Your car blows up. Therefore it was blown up by Arabs or Jews. I don't think my old algebra master would have gone much on that – and algebra's another arabic word.'

Roskill looked round for support.

'Aye,' said Butler. 'And when it comes to peacemakers I could give you the name of two Belgian firms and a Swiss group – and a Czech one, I shouldn't wonder – who'd weep bitter tears the day peace was declared. There's not so much profit in ploughshares these days – small arms shares pay better dividends.'

'And some of their salesmen have been known to protect their terriitory with their product,' said Roskill. 'So far we haven't got a shred of proof about anything.'

'Two shreds – so far we've got two shreds,' said Cox. 'One from Bicester, one from the car.

'We did Bicester pretty thoroughly yesterday, because there was just a chance someone might have seen the car while it still had someone in it. We drew a blank there, but two people think they saw something very near where it was left at about the right time.

One said "Wog", meaning apparently "Middle Eastern, inclined to Arab"; the other was more educated – he said "Cypriot, maybe", which could mean "Middle Eastern, inclined to Israel".'

'That's a shred, right enough,' said Butler.

'Agreed – just a shred. The car's a bit stronger, though.' Cox consulted a small red notebook for a few seconds. 'T.P.D.X. – do you know what that is?'

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'At a guess, one of those innumerable plastic explosives?'

'Quite right. A plastic explosive. Russian, very new – and strong medicine. Just the thing for guerrillas, and sure enough the Russians obligingly supplied them with a consignment of it in January. It was the first time anyone received any outside the Soviet Union, as far as we know.'

'Well, that pins it on Fatah – if that's what was used in the car,'

exclaimed Roskill.

'It was used on the car all right, but it doesn't pin it on Fatah,' Cox shook his head sadly. 'That would have been too easy!

Unfortunately they moved it — or a good deal of it – to one of their front line posts in the Ghor as Safi area, south of the Dead Sea.'

Roskill groaned. 'Don't tell me! The Israelis raided the place!'

'Right again. Softened it up with an air raid on January 20. The next day what they euphemistically call a "purging operation" was effected. In this instance they purged Fatah of a large amount of T.

P.D.X., among other things of lesser importance.'

'So it fits the Bicester evidence exactly – Wog or Cypriot. It could have been either of them.'

'Was the Ghor as Safi raid laid on to take the T.P.D.X.?' Audley asked.

Cox looked questioningly at Yeatman.

'We rather think it was,' said Yeatman. 'I'd lay you three to one on.'

Audley tapped the table. 'Then what you're saying is that they're so damn good they can scoop up the stuff within a fortnight of its dummy2

arrival, and then so damn clumsy they can't wrap it up properly.

Frankly, I don't think they would use it – ever. They just wanted it out of circulation. But if they did use it, it would go off under the right man.'

Roskill caught his breath: Audley was temping fortune now.

'Perhaps it did,' said Butler, thoughtfully. 'Perhaps –'

'Blow up what's his name — Jenkins? In the way most likely to ensure the Special Branch and heaven knows who else would be called in?' Audley ridiculed the idea with a wave of the hand. 'Let's stick to what's within the bounds of probability at least. And I think that rules out the Israelis.'

'They have been known to miscalculate, you know,' Llewelyn protested. 'Karameh, for example. The Nahal Diqla business and the Abu Zaabal raid.'

'By our standards that's not a very high striking rate,' Audley replied. 'But don't worry. I'll check out the Cypriots its well as the Wogs.'

'When you do, Dr. Audley,' Yeatman said, 'you might make a special effort in the case of your friend Colonel Shapiro.'

Now at last, thought Roskill, they were coming down on the target area. Shapiro was Audley's special Israeli buddy: he had been at Audley's wedding, and at Cambridge with Audley years before.