Midnight In Madrid

THREE

NAPLES, ITALY, AUGUST 26

Five minutes later, Habib was on the road that exited Naples to the south. Ten minutes later, he was outside the city limits, driving steadily through the night, one eye on the road, one eye on his rearview mirror. His van was small, old, and drafty. It rattled. From a tape player bolted to the dashboard, Arabic music whined softly, a stream of ballads by Kazeem Al-Saher, the Iraqi pop icon who now made megahits in Lebanon.

In the follow-up car, which bore French plates, one of Jean-Claude’s guards drove while Jean-Claude rode shotgun. The third man was in the backseat.

Both cars moved quickly. The night was cloudy, but there were stars. The drive took another quarter of an hour on main arteries and then Habib led the way onto a side road. Next he accessed a smaller one. They went through farmland; vineyards, it looked like to Jean-Claude. Then they were on a long driveway in an area that was surprisingly rural. Finally, Habib’s van rolled to a halt, and the following car came to a standstill a few meters behind it.

The travelers all stepped out in unison. There was only one building, a small barn. There was a pasture nearby. Jean-Claude surveyed it carefully as his eyes adjusted, looking for danger. But from the pasture the only movement or sound was from sheep. In the same field were several haystacks, positioned at predictable intervals and standing like tall rotund sentries in the starlight.

Habib went to the door of the barn. He fished around in a large flower pot and found a metal key, one which looked like it might have belonged to a medieval church. When he pushed it into a keyhole it turned with a loud click. He led the other three men into the barn, lit a heavy battery-powered lantern, and continued to lead the way, throwing a single bright beam before them.

The interior of the barn was half the size of a basketball court, but seemed smaller because it was cluttered. There was no livestock, only equipment and tools on a dirt floor.

“We are quite alone, my friends,” Habib said quietly. “There is a farmer who owns the site, but he is a friend. And he will not be here again till Monday.”

Jean-Claude nodded curtly.

Habib walked to the rear of the structure. Jean-Claude watched him carefully. There was an array of pitchforks and rakes, but Habib seemed to be trying to position himself. He put down his lantern and held his arms out at angles as if taking imaginary vectors. The other three men stood by quietly and watched. Habib shuffled his right foot along the floor as if he were looking for something in the layer of straw. Then he found it.

Kneeling, he pushed away some earth and revealed a metal ring on a trap door. Under this section of the barn, a small foundation had been dug into the earth, reinforced by wooden planks.

“I’m afraid I will need your help now,” Habib said gently. “I’m an old man. Fifty-two. And your cargo is quite heavy. Would you do me the honor of some assistance?”

“Of course,” said Jean-Claude.

Habib cleared away the trap door. One of Jean-Claude’s assistants, a man with a nasty scar across his left brow, stepped down into a small storage area. He cleared away an array of farm equipment and then came to a piece of old canvas.

“Lift that and you will find what you want,” Habib said.

The man in the crawl space lifted the canvas. Beneath the canvas was a pair of black duffel bags, new and sturdy, carefully wrapped in heavy transparent plastic. The man in the pit lifted the two bags and pushed them onto the floor of the barn.

Jean-Claude knelt down. From his pocket he drew a knife and with a click popped the blade forward. He cut open the transparent plastic and unzipped the first bag. He reached in. Within the bag were what appeared to be white bricks of some sort of plaster-style construction material. He pushed carefully through the whole bag and took an inventory. It was as expected. He opened the second bag and confirmed a similar inventory. He looked approvingly at what was before him.

“Will the owner of the barn not know this has been taken?” Jean-Claude asked.

Habib chuckled. “The owner of the barn does not know what was here. In truth, he does not know anything was here.”

“You are very cautious,” nodded Jean-Claude. “I like that.”

“Cautious and reckless at the same moment,” Habib said. “You could murder me and dump my body in that pit,” he said, indicating the hidden foundation, “and I wouldn’t be found for months. Maybe years.”

“How do you know we won’t?” Jean-Claude asked.

Habib shrugged. “I don’t,” he said.

The two gunmen were nervous. Habib smiled to the other two men, who did not return the kind gesture.

Jean-Claude zipped both bags closed and stood.

“As expected?” Habib asked. “The cargo?”

“Exactly.”

“You are pleased with the transaction?”

“Completely.”

For the first time that evening, Habib broke into a broad grin. “Then I am pleased too, my friend,” he said.

Jean-Claude returned the smile. He opened his arms to suggest an embrace. Habib stepped forward. Jean-Claude wrapped his powerful arms around the older Arab and locked him in a tight embrace. Jean-Claude then pushed back and tried to break apart. But Habib continued to hold him and became very serious, almost like a scold.

“Let me tell you something, my young compatriot,” he said. “I take one look at you, my friend, and I see a very smart but a very angry young man. About some things, I do not care. You can kill as many Western infidels as you wish. My only concern is that you do not get arrested with anything that could be traced to me.”

“Why would I get arrested?”

“Informers, snitches, and traitors are everywhere, even in our community!” Habib said. “People loyal to the Jews, to the Americans! Are you so foolish that you do not know that?”

“I’ve been careful. Extremely careful.”

“So far, yes. But already I hear rumors of what is afoot in Madrid. Already I hear stories that suggest that our organizations could be counterattacked by police and saboteurs in Switzerland and Spain.”

A moment passed. Habib released Jean-Claude.

“All right,” Jean-Claude finally said. “We need to keep moving.”

“Please help me reseal our hiding chamber,” said Habib.

Jean-Claude’s two assistants did much of the heavy lifting, piling farm equipment back into the storage area, then sealing it again. They covered the makeshift pit with hay. Then they left the barn, carrying the two duffels to which Habib had led them. They stashed the cargo in the trunk of their car.

Habib remained behind. Then the three travelers silently returned to their car. They drove it back to the main road and turned northward, the direction from which they had come. Jean-Claude rode in the back. Their mission now was to get as far away as quickly as possible, and this they did to perfection.