Hammond Innes - The Doomed Oasis

The letter didn’t say so in so many words, but it made it pretty clear. And because it gives some indication of his frame of mind — and also because it formed the basis of my subsequent actions — I give it here in full. It was dated December 29 of the previous year and above the date he had typed — Somewhere in the Sheikhdom of Saraifa: Dear Mr Grant,

The time has come to put my affairs into the hands of somebody I know and can trust. I am working here on an old survey. It was carried out a long time ago and the man who did it is dead now. If my own results confirm his report — and I shall know very shortly — I shall try and catch Captain Griffiths at Sharjah when the Emerald Isle stops there about the end of next month. I cannot explain to you why it is necessary. All I can say is that this is a forbidden zone and that I am working against time and without authority. Everything is against me — almost like it was when I came to you last. I’ve always been a bit of a rebel at heart. But outside of the pack, you’re on your own. And whatever happens to me, I’m determined that Saraifa shall have the benefit of my efforts. The oasis fights a losing battle with the desert. Without money it is doomed. And I spent six of the happiest months of my life there.

When you read this I shall be dead. Please then take the following action: Contact Sir Philip Gorde. who is on the board of directors of GODCO, and give him the envelope I have addressed to him. It contains a document which is correctly-phrased and is a copy of other concession agreements. It will also contain my survey report, but without the locations. The locations will be contained in a separate envelope, together with additional copies of my survey report. This envelope is only to be handed over after Sir Philip Gorde has signed the concession agreement and legally bound the Company, to your satisfaction, to drill four test wells at the locations indicated. (The four had been written in ink, presumably later.) In the event that Sir Philip Gorde refuses to sign, then you will please take whatever action you think best in the interests of Saraifa. Khalid, the Sheikh’s son, knows what I am doing and you will find he fully understands what is at stake so far as the oasis is concerned. It is essential that somehow you get the concession taken up. Saraifa needs oil desperately and if you succeed you will not find Khalid lacking in appreciation, or Sheikh Makhmud for that matter. You may, of course, make what use you can of the circumstances of my death, my parentage and my past to achieve publicity and so attract the interest of other oil companies.

Enclosed also is my Will. I have appointed you my Executor and after making the necessary arrangements with my bank in Bahrain, you will please draw on the account for fees and expenses. Please understand that I would not again involve you in my affairs if I were not desperate. In the event of my death I have instructed my sister to contact you immediately.

David Whitaker

It was an unusual communication for a solicitor to receive, most unusual; and reading it through again I was struck by the fact that he made no mention of his father. In the whole of that document there wasn’t one reference to Colonel Whitaker. Everything is against me. There were other phrases, too. I was greatly disturbed about the whole thing, particularly as I knew that Whitaker was engaged in an operation that must run counter to the interests of the company he had served and which David was serving at the time of his death.

However, there was no point in speculating. His instructions were clear and I picked up the phone and rang the London Office of GODCO. And whilst I was waiting for the call to come through I had a look at the Will. He had typed it himself, but it was a perfectly legal document even though the witnesses to his signature were two Arabs. It appointed me Executor and his sister, Susan, sole legatee with instructions to take care of their mother. Again no reference to his father.

This and the letter and the fact that he had made such careful provision against the possibility of death, gave a strange quality of isolation to his activities, as though he were operating alone in a hostile world. I think it was then that I seriously began to consider the possibility that his disappearance was no accident.

My call to GODCO came through and I was put on to the same thin, cultured voice. No, Sir Philip was not available, would not be for some time. He was on a tour of the Company’s Middle East properties and not expected back for at least a month. I could contact him through the Bahrain Office if the matter were important.

I put the phone down and sat there for a long time, considering. But I don’t think there was ever any real doubt in my mind. I hadn’t heard from Whitaker and, quite apart from his son’s death, the necessity for a meeting with him was urgent. It was just that the Persian Gulf was a long way away and I had got out of the habit of travelling. Fortunately I now had an arrangement with another firm of solicitors which enabled me to get away when necessary and in the end I put a call through to a local travel agency. BOAC flights direct to Bahrain were weekly, leaving on Thursdays at 1000 hours and arriving 0305 hours Friday. That just gave me time to make all my arrangements, get visas and clear my desk of the more urgent matters. I told them to book me out on the next flight, locked the contents of the envelope in the safe and went out for a drink. I needed to think, for I was beginning to realize what it was he’d landed on my desk. Political dynamite! If he was a good geophysicist, then what I’d locked away in my safe might well be the location of a new oilfield.

Three days later I flew out of London Airport in a storm of rain and wind. March going out like a lion; but at Rome it was hot and all down the Mediterranean we had bright sunshine. And I sat in my seat with an empty feeling inside me, for the day before I’d left Cardiff a man had come to see me, a tired-looking, hard-faced man with a skin like leather who’d refused to give Andrews his name or state his business.

Even when he was alone with me in my office he went about it in such a tortuous way that it only gradually dawned on me what he was after. It was cleverly done — a hint here, a hint there, and the abyss gradually opening up at my feet. He knew David had boarded the Emerald Isle off Sharjah, knew, too, that Griffiths had delivered that packet to me. He’d been down to see him at his cottage in the Gower. He’d been to the police, too; had talked with Sergeant Mathieson and had checked the files. He knew the boy’s real name, his whole background, everything, and what he wanted from me was that packet.

He smiled when I told him I couldn’t discuss my client’s affairs. ‘Professional etiquette? Your profession! etiquette, Mr Grant, is somewhat elastic, if you follow me.’ It was a cat-and-mouse game, for he knew I’d helped the boy to get out of the country. ‘There are several charges outstanding and a warrant.’

‘The boy is dead,’ I reminded him.

But it made no difference. He had his instructions, he said. These were to take possession of the packet. ‘You can hand it to me or forward it to the Company — one or the other.’ I asked him what authority he had for making such an outrageous proposal, but all he’d say was that it was in the country’s interests. One knows, of course, that there are men like that employed by Government and by large companies, but one doesn’t expect to come across them. They belong to a half-world that lies outside the experience of ordinary citizens.

‘In your own interests I suggest you hand it to me. Nobody need know anything then.’

It was blackmail and by then I was sweating, for I was beginning to realize what I was up against. Politics and oil — the Middle East; the scope of a provincial lawyer doesn’t cover that sort of world … I just hadn’t the right sort of pull, the contacts, the friends in high places.