Ultimatum Read Free Page A

Mao’s philosophy: ‘Power comes from the barrel of a gun’. Step-by-step diplomacy, the Geneva Conference, Kissinger’s attempts at an Arab-Israeli détente were, he was convinced, a waste of time.
    Under Ka’ed’s leadership Soukour-al-Sahra’ – the SAS – had embarked on a widespread campaign of bombings, hi-jacks, kidnappings, bank hold-ups and assassinations. What funds they needed came from these operations, the ingenuity and success of which caught the imagination of many young Palestinians who, like Ka’ed, were impatient and believed that militant action was the only way to secure an independent Palestine. Like him they were readyto die for their cause; indeed they did, for the SAS suffered casualties, though nothing like as many as they inflicted.
    By late 1975 they had grown into a well-organized highly effective extremist group working outside the umbrella of the PLO. And they were beginning to make themselves felt, not only in the Middle East but in the chancelleries of the Western World.
    Mahmoud el Ka’ed knew he was responsible for this. Not that he thought overmuch of his successes. The political objective was still too far from attainment, the real achievement yet to come. It was upon this that all his energies – what his enemies called his fanaticism – were now bent as he prepared what he liked to think of as The Final Solution.

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    The undistinguished-looking coaster with the red-banded white funnel entered Beirut Port in the late evening and berthed at the eastern end of the new basin in St Georges Bay.
    There she lay, small and inconspicuous, dwarfed by the ships of the Messagerie Maritime, the American Export Lines, the Hellenic Mediterranean and the Khedive Mail Lines, and other vessels larger and more important than she was. But at least this was her home port and most of her crew lost no time in getting ashore that night to be with families and friends. Among those who remained on board were the two Syrians who’d signed for the grey packing cases in Marseille at the time of loading.
    The bearded young galley-hand with the scarred neck was one who did go ashore. Outside the port gates he took a taxi to the Safa Mosque. He paid it off and walked, following a circuitous route, bound for the rendezvous where he was to meet Ka’ed. Often he looked back to see if he was being followed.
     
    At eight o’clock on the night the Byblos arrived in Beirut Port the hatches on number two hold were lifted, a crane manoeuvred into position, two Benz six-wheeler trucks came alongside and the sixteen grey packing cases were transferred to them. On either side of their driving cabs the trucks were lettered ‘ D . B . MAHROUTTI BROS ’ – and below that ‘Agricultural Machinery’. No other cargo was off-loaded that night. Soon after the six-wheelers left the quay the two Syrian passengers came ashore.
    In a dark shadowed alleyway between transit sheds a manhad been watching the off-loading. Shortly before it finished he went to the back of the shed and picked up a motorcycle. He wheeled it down the length of the sheds to a point where he could watch the roadway along which the trucks would travel.
    Before long he heard the sound of their engines. Soon afterwards they passed. He started the motorcycle and followed at a safe distance. The trucks travelled down towards the western side of the harbour, crossed the road which led to the main gates, turned right, then left, and stopped outside a large shed near the Rue de Trieste. It was not far from the Port Captain’s office. The area was poorly lit but the man astride the motorcycle, motionless in the shadows, saw dark shapes climb from the trucks and slide open the doors of the shed. The six-wheelers were driven in, the doors shut behind them and he heard the slamming of bolts. Later two men arrived on foot. They knocked at the small door beside the main doors and were admitted.
    The man wheeled his motorcycle back towards the railway lines,