Operation Scheherazade
by Sinbad
Chapter 15
Ricky followed the British Ambassador out past the swimming pool, which was deserted since Chris and Roly were watching cine films indoors. Beyond the pool there was a door in the high stone wall that bounded the pool area and they unlocked it and went out into the palace compound. Mr Fielding led the way along a tarmac road to a gate and a pathway that led up a gentle slope, and was lined with pine trees standing tall like a guard of honour.
He quickened his pace, having to run to catch up with the tall man who strode along on his long legs, covering the ground at an easy pace that Ricky couldn't match at about two thirds of Mr Fielding's height.
“Mr Fielding? I don't really understand. Why are we doing this? And why didn't you tell the King on the telephone about the message?”
“Well, it seems the Foreign Office think we can't trust the King's people. It may be that a few of the people close to him may not be fully loyal to him, but we don't know who they are. So I couldn't just tell him over the phone because someone might have been listening who could use the information to foil the King's actions, or perhaps to damage his reputation.
“But I'm pretty sure he remembers you. So I mentioned your name. And I told him exactly where we were going without spelling it out to anyone who might have overheard. And if I'm right, the King will take the hint and he'll find some way of meeting us there. If not, we've had a walk, but if so, we can talk to the King without anyone at all knowing.”
He looked down at the boy beside him with a wry smile. “Did I do good?”
Ricky smiled back. “You did great, Mr Fielding! Where are we going, then?”
“There's a point on the hillside up ahead where the natural rock formation breaks the surface and forms a sort of flat viewing platform. And at the rear, where the rock platform digs into the hillside, there are some more rocky outcrops that make good seats. So you can sit and look at the view. The King showed it to me ages ago and we've met there a few times since. I think he will understand that that's where I was telling him we would go. Look, there it is, just coming into view.”
And as they reached the end of the pathway through the trees and came into open countryside, around the side of the hill they saw the stone viewing platform. More to the point, they heard an approaching aircraft. Fielding grabbed at Ricky's arm and pulled him forcefully back under the trees and they waited, watching the sky. The sound became louder but it was wrong somehow. It sounded rough and high-pitched, more like a model aircraft but much louder. In the distance Ricky could just make out a tiny red dot, low in the sky. It got bigger and it was, well, not an aeroplane, but not quite anything else either. Ricky didn't know what to make of it. He looked up at Mr Fielding and was relieved to see that he looked relaxed.
“It's the King. He's come out in his autogyro. Brilliant idea. Nobody will have been able to follow him or know where he's gone. He'll have left the palace airstrip and ducked under the hills and flown low around to here so he's escaped his minders.”
Mr Fielding was already walking briskly along the path towards the rendezvous. Ricky trotted along beside him and asked: “What's an autogyro?”
It's like a helicopter but simpler, I think. And they're often tiny one-seater things like flying motorcycles. I'm sorry I don't understand how they work but the King is a skilled pilot and he'll tell you if you ask, I'm sure.”
As they walked the autogyro scooted down to land on the natural terrace of level ground a little above the stone slab. It was, thought Ricky, like a motorcycle sidecar with a motor and a big propellor bolted to the back, and a metal pylon sticking up behind the pilot's seat with a big helicopter rotor on top that was spinning slowly and slowing. He'd never seen anything like it.
The pilot released his seatbelt and climbed out of the little machine, removing his crash helmet as he did. He dropped it on the seat and walked down towards them. Immaculately dressed in a sharp silver-grey suit and highly polished black shoes and with a scarlet tie against a white dress shirt, this could only be King Hussein. He was a small man, perhaps five foot six, still significantly bigger than Ricky, but a head shorter than Mr Fielding. Nevertheless the King's charisma was such that he naturally dominated any group of people he joined.
“My dear Fielding, how nice to see you again. And how clever of you to arrange this meeting over the telephone so tactfully. I almost didn't get it!”
The two men shook hands and Mr Fielding gestured to Ricky. “Your Majesty, I wonder if you remember Richard Taylor?”
“Yes indeed, we've met before, haven't we? Richard, I understand the message I gave you got to the proper quarters and I am very grateful to you for that. Now, I assume something new has developed, will you tell me about it?”
They sat on the stone seats at the edge of the slab and Ricky began to tell the King about the message from Mr Farquharson. He handed him the banknote and the King looked at it. And began to chuckle.
“Yes, you read it correctly. It's what we Radio Hams call a rendezvous. Farquharson is telling me to contact him by short wave radio at half past nine GMT today. Well, that's half past midnight our time so I've got time to get back and set up my equipment. He wants to contact me on 21.3 megahertz, that's in the middle of the fifteen metre band, and probably the best frequency for such a long distance contact at this time in the sunspot cycle.”
Ricky was crestfallen. “Is that all it is? I thought it was sort of top secret!”
“Oh it certainly is that! You see, just now it is very important for Jordan that we have good friendly links with the West and particularly with Britain. But Britain is not well thought of by many in the Arab world, particularly because of the ham-fisted way that Palestine was given to the Jews in 1948, over the heads of the Palestinians who had lived there for generations. So I need to establish contact with Britain without any of my staff, or my government, let alone the dissident elements in the country, knowing about it. You've helped me do just that, and this rendezvous will be the beginning of that contact. We've worked out a coding system so that we can transfer information without it being intercepted, and I'm hopeful that we can once again maintain peace in this region.”
“So, Richard, you've done two great things for Britain and for Jordan. You've taken a message from me, and now you've brought a message to me, that will probably play their part in averting further war. I'm very grateful to you.
“But I don't know if Mr Fielding has told you, but it's pretty dangerous around here at the moment and I think it's very important that you are not seen to be anywhere near me for the rest of your stay in the country. If the terrorists think you're trying to contact me they may try to kill you to stop you. So please, keep yourself safe. Do innocuous things, go swimming, read books, play card games. But don't come to the palace again, and don't go to the Camel Races. There's no need, now that I've got your message. Promise me?”
Ricky beamed his smile to the King. “I promise.”
“Right, then, probably best we all get back, before we're missed!” And the King made his way back to his aircraft. They stood and watched as he settled himself into the cramped cockpit, put his helmet on, his seatbelt on, and started the noisy motor. The rear-facing propeller began to spin and the little machine began to inch forward. King Hussein steered it around and faced along the level patch of ground. Then he opened the throttle, the engine note rose and crescendoed and the autogyro trundled along the rough ground on its little wheels, the big rotor above it turning slowly. It had moved only thirty yards or so when suddenly it rose and banked, and it was airborne. The King waved at them as his machine flew past them and a moment later it was gone, flying around the corner of the valley, staying hidden from distant observers until he was well away from them.
Ricky and Mr Fielding walked back to the Residence and Ricky rejoined Roland and Chris. Roland was absorbed in the cine film they were watching, but Chris looked a question at Ricky. He smiled and mouthed 'Ok' back to Chris who looked relieved. He sat down beside them and watched the rest of the film with them.
An hour later Mrs Fielding put her head round the door and brought the evening to and end by announcing that it was time for Chris and Ricky to go back to Ricky's house. And she gave them a lift there. They thanked her for the evening and went in. Dog tired, they just said Hello to Ricky's father and went straight to bed.