The Chase: One Courageous Skipper Battling The Perilous Evil Out To Destroy Him. (Sea Action & Adventure) (7 page)

The same morning sun that compelled the Slavianka under water heralded the Galatea’s arrival into Port Samos. Entering the port, she passed through the wide inlet of Vathy Bay. The hills on both sides were steep and wooded. The entrance extended for half a mile to the northwest. A white lighthouse was still flashing its beacon from atop Cape Kotsikos on starboard. A red light was flashing atop the entrance on the right side of the entrance.

The Samos port was not quite awakened yet as Avri motored slowly into an empty mooring space at the north end of the pier. Most of the fishing boats had already taken to sea, while the yacht sailors were still asleep. A young Greek came from nowhere to catch Avri's line, tie it to the dock and disappear with a curt wave of the hand.

"
Effcharisto,
" Avri said anyhow as he bent the line to the cleat and pulled the anchor line tightly at the bow. The Galatea was well secured at Samos dock and Avri went down into the cabin for a well-earned breakfast. It was quarter to six, still too early to make a phone call. The only public telephone was in the post office, which was located in the rear corner of a waterfront Taverna. It wouldn’t open before seven thirty anyhow. He finished breakfast, had a second cup of coffee, and the time was still only six thirty. At six forty-five he gave up and stepped ashore. He strolled slowly along the wharf letting the clock lead the pace.

The boats on his right were lined up in no particular order. There was a sixty-foot motor yacht, flamboyant and well-maintained, flying a British flag. She was probably a corporate boat, financed on tax write-offs and used by senior management. He wondered about her name - FIVE ANGELS. A diesel motor, probably a generator, was humming in her engine room, its noise and smell keeping other boats away. A small sailboat was bobbing next to a large caique. A young man was curled inside a light blue sleeping bag slumbering on the fore deck of a sailboat. There were some twenty more boats tied along the dock, warming up in the early morning sun.

At the base of the wharf he turned right and continued to stroll along the waterfront pier. This part of the port was kept for local boats. A few of them were tied to stone bollards, but many mooring spaces were empty. At the center of the dock was a large area kept vacant for the regular ferry. He reached the end of the waterfront where the old breakwater projected into the sea. Massive rocks, gray with a dark green tide mark of sea algae were laid in regular pattern which disrupted here and there by an uneven slab. Soft waves rebounded from the rocks, leaving a white blanket of foam as they returned to the sea.

Two more sailors joined Avri as he sat on a flat boulder near the taverna. There was an Englishman, out of milk for his morning tea, and also a young Swede who wanted to mail a letter. Their small-talk ceased abruptly when the taverna keeper showed up. They waited patiently for the old man to conclude his morning routine for the start of business.

Avri had to get a message over to someone in Israel. An urgent message. An important message that needed to go to the right person.. He gazed at his watch impatiently. This damn piece of delicate instrument seemed to be gaining now all the minutes it stalled while he was pacing the dock not long ago. It was a quarter to eight now, which was one hour earlier than in Tel-Aviv. Ruth would be late leaving her apartment, as she had always been, but he couldn't take a chance on how late she would be. It was the inconsistent part of her inconsistency that broke their marriage.

Finally, at five minutes past eight, the old man pushed the button on the telephone meter and Avri started dialing.

Much to his surprise Ruth answered the phone after the second ring.

"Hello, Ruthie, this is Avri. I'm calling from Greece".

"Hi, dear, how are you?" she sounded glad to hear from him, and he knew she was.

"I'm fine, darling. You sound lovely and you're late for work, as usual".

"You're not calling from Greece just to check whether your favorite ex-wife is late for work. What’s up, Avri?"

"Listen, dear. I have a very important message for Danny. You’ll have to write it down and then find him, wherever he is. Now get a pencil and paper, I'll hang on".

"O.K." she said, slightly resentful that he didn't trust her to remember a message.

"What kind of pencil did you get?" he asked when she came back on the line.

"It's a plain old pencil, yellow, with a worn-out eraser at the other end. Why do you ask, is it important?"

"Yes, dear, it is," he said.

Ruth was lovely but totally undependable. Now he was sure that she would write it down, for if she hadn’t bothered to find a pencil she would have been more creative, a red pencil with golden stripes or something like that. Now he was sure she had a real pencil and he hoped she would write down his message.

"Now, tell Danny I am at Port Samos in Greece," he talked slowly, dictating carefully - "That's S-A-M-O-S. Tell him I am stuck here with a jammed plug".

He paused for her to repeat it. She got it right.

"That's good,” he said. "Now dear, please make sure Danny gets it as soon as possible, O.K.? This is very important, Ruthie".

"I'll do it right away, Avri, trust me," she said, and he smiled and kissed her over the phone and hung up.

He paid the taverna keeper three hundred and ninety Drachmas for the call and another eight Drachmas for a good cup of coffee.

Now it was waiting time. He could only hope that Ruth would not be distracted by anything. Not until she finds Danny, for all it takes is one small diversion and she’ll forget all about his call only to remember again when it is no longer relevant.

Danny was definitely the best solution to this problem.
If he only gets the message
, Avri thought,
he can surely find a way to get the damn antenna off my hands and the Russians off my back
.

There was nothing concrete, or even incidental to suggest that he was hunted by anyone, but he couldn't believe that the Russians, or any navy for that matter, would write off equipment like this. The least they would do is to find out what exactly happened to it.

Of course, he could have dumped the antenna way back in the Turkish waters and sail on to enjoy his vacation. Any normal, half-sane person would have done so.
Then why didn't I
? He asked himself.
What is it that made me keep the antenna, hide it and hurry for the first phone to call that master spy for help?

There was the argument of national security.
If the Russians are snooping in the area, eavesdropping on the millimeter wavelength, the Israeli authorities should be made aware of it. I cannot pretend it didn't happen. It's probably not too late even now. I could step over to the Galatea, dig up the antenna from behind the water tank, slip it quietly overboard and sail on for the rest of my vacation
. It was like a bad dream, where one knows how to avoid a disaster, but does nothing about it.

And then, once he turns the whole thing over to Danny, will it really be over for him? Would he sail on, enjoying the rest of his vacation?

Danny would not let him down. That he was sure of. They had known each other ever since he could remember. They developed a bond that grew through childhood, was matured by adolescence and hardened by manhood.

Their paths of life diverged widely after they got out of the army. Avri went on to engineering school, marriage and a professional career while Danny drifted, disappearing on and off. At times dropping out of sight for months, before returning with no explanation. He would then take up odd jobs or go on army reserve duty for incredibly long periods. It was only years later that Avri discovered that his good friend was a high-ranking member of the Mossad. At one time Avri suspected this and asked his friend about it. Danny disregarded it with laughter. Avri raised the question again and again only to have it repeatedly denied.

In the middle of winter 1969, faith had crossed their paths again, adding yet another hue to their friendship.

*****

It was just past ten o'clock on a cold December night when a curt phone call from his military reserve office summoned him back to his army unit. Within a half an hour Avri was packed and gone, and, before midnight, he was shaking hands and swapping jokes with his long-time buddies of the Fourth Paratroop Company.

The next night they lifted a whole Egyptian radar station from Rass-Arren in the Sinai desert and brought it over to Israel. The company was a very unusual grouping of warriors and professionals and they pulled off a stunning, flawless mission. By now Avri was already one of the best antenna designers in the country. He was a great asset, and one which the Israeli Army took full advantage of, having trained soldiers who were skilled engineers and vise-versa. On this particular mission it proved invaluable.

Danny was there, too. He served in the same unit, but this was not the key reason for his inclusion. He had some special skills for dealing with Russians. They more than expected to find Russian technicians operating the radar station for the Egyptians. It was Danny's job to handle these Russians, to make sure they did not foul up the act, and still avoid an international crisis with the U.S.S.R.

They crossed the Suez Canal in two helicopters, fifteen paratroopers in each. They carried only light weapons, Uzis, hand grenades, a few rifles, but lots of engineering equipment. There were many toolboxes filled with a vast assortment of wrenches and cutters, hammers and saws, welding torches and power tools.

The plan was to split the station into four sections, to do it quickly and without damaging the equipment.

The helicopters landed in full darkness at the foot of a steep hill in a deserted region of the Suez Canal’s West bank. From takeoff to landing, their flight altitude never exceeded one hundred feet, and, most of the time, they were at thirty. The pilots had been briefed on every minute detail of the course, their navigation was within yards and they landed exactly on the spot.

The force had split into five groups. The main group, twenty soldiers in total, started a five-mile hike to the radar station. The other groups split according to their missions. Two detachments drove east to cover the back roads, two telephone technicians were assigned to produce a "routine” communication breakdown, and two soldiers moved to the Western road. The pilots and the flight crew took weapons and spread out to watch over their own helicopters.

The main force reached the Rass-Arren radar station ten minutes ahead of schedule. They regrouped and rested, while Zvika, the commanding officer, briefed them again, concentrating on the first five minutes of the assault.

Let's go, he signaled.

At 21:30 they moved in. The solitary guard at the rear gate never knew what hit him. A single shot from a silenced Uzi went unnoticed in the sleepy post. He was supposed to be the only casualty of the operation. The other Egyptians were seized and gathered in the mess hall with no resistance to speak of. Four paratroopers remained to watch over the thirty-two prisoners. 

Danny and his team went to the only brick building in the compound. This is where the Russians stayed. According to Intelligence, there were five advisers. Danny was relieved to find them all in one room and utterly surprised. Their astonishment increased as Danny explained the situation in fluent Russian. It was obvious that they didn’t like what they heard, but they couldn’t do anything about it. Anyway, they were technicians, not soldiers. Danny led them out of the building into the open where one man could keep an eye on them and still help the main force should a situation arise. The operation was extremely Spartan in nature, and each man was valuable. Little did he know of the time bomb he had left breeding behind.

The domestic appearance of the Russians lulled Danny into neglecting to do a body search of each of his hostages. They just didn't look like soldiers. So now there was one nine-millimeter Russian automatic pistol out there in the field, its owner waiting for the right moment. It was a grave error, one that would influence Danny's career and almost cost Avri his life.

The Russian with the gun sat there on the ground, along with his four comrades, not quite certain what to do. He was very nervous and it showed, yet the guard didn't suspect anything.

Zvika, the commanding officer, turned his head South, beyond the main structure, anticipating four transport helicopters to arrive any minute now. They were expected to appear beyond the sandy hills. Everything was right on schedule and going well.

Four three-engine heavy transport helicopters flew in at high-speed and very low altitude, barely clearing the compound's rooftops. The French-made Super Frelons circled the main court like cautious hornets before landing on the East field. As soon as they touched down, eager hands rushed to unload the equipment, handing it over to the awaiting groups. Everybody was on the run. Huge blades swirled above, raising a local sandstorm flashing red and silver in the chopper's beaming lights. The tools were all painted distinctively - red, white, yellow or blue, making it easy for each team to identify its implements. By twenty two hours, before the moon had risen on the West Bank of the Suez Canal, twenty Israeli technicians trained as paratroopers were swarming the two mobile shelters that made up the radar station like hungry locusts.