Stan Mason - Stopping World War Three

The driver didn’t need to follow the direction of my hand. ‘In English it’s known as the Tower of the Forty after the forty followers of Mohammed. It was built in the thirteen hundreds by the Egyptian Mameluke sultans.’

‘But they were Arabs, weren’t they?’ I challenged, puzzled by his reply. ‘How is it that the Jews who are the bitter enemies of the Arabs protect a monument which embodies the spirit of the other religion?’

‘You know very little about us,’ he explained shortly. ‘The Jews and Arabs are both of the Semitic race. Brothers under the skin. We’re the clever ones; they’re the lucky ones.’

‘Why lucky?’ I enquired, intrigued to know the answer.

‘Why lucky?’ he repeated aimlessly. ‘If Moses had turned right instead of left when he led the Children of Israel out of Egypt we would have had the oil as well. But then you can’t have everything in life, can you? We’re passing King Solomon Road. You’ve heard of King Solomon, eh? It’s not far now. We have to turn off here to Arlosoroff Road. Say… while you’re in the cab, do you want a quick tour of the city or a cruise along the sea front? It’s the Mediterranean, you know.’

‘No thank,’ I refused wearily. The travelling and the heat were having an unpleasant effect on me and I could hardly wait to relax and settle with a cold drink in my hand.

We arrived at our destination and Penny paid the taxi driver. The house in Arlosoroff Road was far from satisfactory. The architect had designed it ingeniously using every millimetre of available space, fitting out the accommodation with a tiny kitchen, a small bathroom, and sparse living quarters. I opened the shuttered windows to let in some fresh air and flooded the room with sunlight.

‘I’m going to have a cool drink and then walk around the town,’ I told Penny. ‘My bones ache like hell and my head is throbbing but there’s a lot I need to get out of my system. Walking’s the only way I can do it.’

‘You’ll end up over-tired and you won’t be able to sleep.’ she retorted with an element of concern.

‘Let’s say there’s an itinerant bug running around my bloodstream. It’s going to keep me on the move.’

‘Well I’m bushed,’ she yawned, pulling a lever on the settee so that it unfolded swiftly into a bed. ‘When you go out, close the shutters, will you? The noise of the traffic might keep me awake but at least I won’t have to face the sunshine.’

I found Tel Aviv fascinating mainly because the city was so young and alive. It had developed at a tremendous pace with the port of Jaffa by its side. I learned later that when the cornerstone was laid in Jaffa, its founders sought to create a quiet residential suburb on the golden sands of the Mediterranean. No one believed it would grow into a city overshadowing the original port. I wandered along the straight streets with their new houses designed in modern architectural vogue. There were numerous museums, theatre companies and night clubs of every description to cater for the public. The place had a unique character of its own.

After walking along the seafront for a while towards Jaffar, I retraced my steps and found my way back to our humble abode. To my surprise, Penny was still awake, sitting up in bed with a magazine in her hand.

‘Couldn’t you sleep? I asked her.

‘I’ve had my sleep,’ she replied. ‘An hour’s enough for me to catch up during the day. You were gone for ages. Find anything interesting?’

‘Nothing much.’

‘By the way, we received a telephone call while you were out. Just as I got my head down the ‘phone rang. A Schmuel Musaphia is staying at the King David Hotel and would like us to join his tomorrow for breakfast.’

I stared at her bleakly. ‘Who’s he? And is he on our side or the other side?’

She shrugged her shoulders aimlessly. ‘The only way to find out is to meet him there tomorrow morning.’

I was getting very tired of the cat-and-mouse game as well as my inability to control the situation. No longer did I make any arrangements myself; they were always suggested to me by others. Either I was instructed to meet someone at a certain place at a particular time or I was invited to meet them at their convenience. I seemed to be a pawn in someone else’s game of chess and I didn’t like it… I didn’t like it at all!

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?’