They had lunch from the
provisions in their refrigerator and several cups of tea and coffee that kept
them awake.
By evening time they were
exhausted.
It went on for several
days. Nothing of any real interest happened. It was pretty much a daily
routine at the compound that did not reveal much. Aziz came by at odd
hours bringing word from their colleagues. Devlin and Elena were
conducting nightly rounds in the area and had been to the mosque and the
apartment building but had found no leads so far.
Aziz was trying to locate
building designs and sewer plans of the compound but so far had been
unsuccessful due to the chaotic state of affairs at the Beirut City
administration authorities. The chaos worked both ways since it allowed
him to make his inquiries freely, almost without worry of someone realizing
what he was doing and reporting it to unfriendly ears. The civil servants
attending the relevant posts would look quite bewildered and gawk at requests
of building plans or sewer maps.
“You would have to approach
the French for that,” Aziz was told by one elderly clerk.
“That may not be a bad
suggestion,” Rolston commented when they sat down for more tea. “I bet
the French government still has records of Beirut archived from their Mandate
days.”
“Can we find out?” Mai-Li
interjected.
“I don’t see why not,” Rolston
said.
“We could get Christine to do
some checking,” Mai-Li suggested.
“Will she be up to it?”
Rolston queried, recalling the spent woman he met at the hotel conference room
in Eilat, who had swam across the border to Israel.
“Then I suggest you do it,”
Aziz summed up, “the quicker, the better.”
“Is there a secure phone
anywhere?” Rolston inquired.
“Over in the other
apartment. I’ll get Natasha to do it,” Aziz said.
Natasha had taken over Elena’s
administrative duties. Elena was much more qualified to walk the streets
of Beirut with Devlin, disguised as an Arab couple out and about. Aziz
would drop them off at different locations around the compound and allow them
an hour or so of reconnaissance before driving them back to the apartment
again. He had one of his men join them on the two occasions when they
entered the mosque and the apartment building, but mostly Elena and Devlin made
the rounds on their own.
They could detect nothing, day
or night. The compound was well guarded around the clock and no activity
could be seen at the entrances of the apartment building or the mosque.
Once during the night they caught a glimpse of a large van entering through the
main entrance but could not make out any special identification marks and could
not stick around to follow it if it came back out.
Elena tried to make friendly
conversation with passersby in the area but it was not uncommon for buildings
in Beirut to be fortified and guarded so no one paid special attention to the
particular venue in their midst.
CHAPTER
FORTY SIX
Another week passed before
they got a break.
Christine managed to deliver
some blueprints.
She sent it with a journalist,
a colleague, who accompanied a French television crew doing a documentary on the
recent Lebanese civil war. The compound had once been French police
barracks built in the 1930s with an array of underground interrogation rooms
and holding cells. Devlin studied the drawings with interest, realizing
the part above ground was only a façade to an entire complex underground
with what seemed like long tunnels leading to it from adjacent neighborhoods.
“No wonder we didn’t see any
activity,” he commented to no one in particular, though everyone in the room
was staring at him. “They never have to show their faces above
ground. This is a perfect place to hide such activity.”
“Those neighborhoods should
not have changed much under the ground since the 1930s,” Aziz commented.
“The buildings have suffered battles over the years but the underground
segments should be intact.”
“Can you tell where these
tunnels lead?” Devlin asked, pointing to specific points on the drawings.
Aziz studied the blueprints.
The compound was situated in
the Minet Al Hosn district bordering on the port district to the east and Ain
Mreisseh to the west. Two tunnels were marked leading east toward the
port while one tunnel led west toward the Ain Mreisseh. The drawings did not go
much beyond the compound outer perimeter but it was quite clear to Aziz where they
should be looking.
Furthermore, the sewer system
provided additional links to the underground complex around the compound.
The tunnel entrances were most likely guarded and watched, Aziz thought.
The sewer passageways on the other hand, if passable, were more likely to be
deserted.
“We’ll need to look for the
entrances and inspect both the tunnels and the sewer system before we can make
a decision on how to proceed,” Aziz said finally.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“I’ll have my men search for
possible entrances around the neighborhoods then we’ll send teams to
investigate,” Aziz continued. “We cannot afford to be exposed so we’ll
have to abandon any entrance that is guarded at this point.”
Aziz looked around the room
then added. “On second thoughts, we may have to eliminate the watch in order to
get in, but that’s only as a last resort.”
“What will we be looking for
when we get into the compound?” Natasha asked, looking at Devlin.
“I am hoping we can find some
records,” Devlin said.
“Lists of names, addresses,
maybe even photos.
We could get lucky if they store the stuff so
we can copy it off the computers but I doubt such activity would be properly
registered.”
“So
what if there are no records?”
Elena asked.
“Then we resort to
interrogation. We try to grab someone and take him back with us.”
“That is very dangerous,” Aziz
said.
“It’s the best I could think
of right now,” Devlin replied in frustration. “But an opportunity may
present itself once we get going. Anyone got any other ideas?”
“We could watch the tunnels
and follow whoever goes in and out of there,” Natasha suggested.
“That’s a possibility,” Elena
agreed.
“It is, and it is also one
that could take a long time to get us to where we want,” Devlin said.
“We could be noticed if we do that
for too long,” Aziz pitched in.
“Or we could trap someone and
interrogate him before we try to infiltrate the compound,” Natasha
insisted. “That way we may find out if there are any records to be had or
be pointed in some direction.”
They all looked at one
another, assessing the idea.
“If he gets reported missing,
that could be a warning sign which could launch evasive action,” Devlin said.
“Or we could combine the two
measures,” Elena jumped in. “We could grab someone that could lead us
into the compound, possibly through the tunnels if that's the way in.”
“What do we do with him when
we’re done?” Aziz questioned.
“If we don't find records, we
interrogate him on the spot. If he talks, we have him lead us, if
not,
we make it look like he suffered a heart attack or
choked to death.”
All eyes were on Elena.
“Where did you come up with
that?” Natasha asked in awe.
Elena’s face reddened.
“I have no idea. I was just developing your line of thought,” she said,
covering her face with the palms of her hands.
“Well, it sounds to me like
the best of both worlds,” Natasha remarked, looking around the room.
“I’ll want to consult with
Rolston, but this is definitely a start,” Devlin said, looking at Aziz for
approval.
Aziz, listening to his
interpreter, was nodding his head in agreement.
They went to work the very
next day. Aziz marked the areas to be investigated for the tunnel and
sewer entrances, and the group divided into ones and twos. Natasha
remained in the apartment to coordinate matters.
Five sewer openings around the
compound, all within one or two blocks away, were found within two days.
The tunnel openings were a
different story. They were either well hidden, or did not exist where
marked. The teams combed the area within a two block circumference of the
compound but came up empty.
Aziz stumbled upon a tunnel
entrance by chance.
He had stopped at a food stand
on one of his rounds and while devouring his kebab noticed unusual activity at
the back of the store behind the two attendants. Two or three people
entered the stand but did not stop to buy food. Instead, they
disappeared. As he sat there wondering where they had gone, he noticed
two different people coming out from behind the attendants.
The place looked quite small
to have anyone but the two attendants occupy it and it looked rather strange to
have people walking in and out, so he decided to take a peek behind the
attendants as soon as someone entered the back. He waited for an hour
before an entourage of no less than four men walked in and disappeared.
Aziz hurried to the stand for a second kebab and managed to see the back of the
group disappearing into the floor, a large trap door closing over them.
Later when he checked the
position of the food stand in relation to the compound his suspicions were
further confirmed as it stood in direct line with sketch of the western tunnel,
two blocks outside the boundary they were searching.
He sent two of his men to
stake out the place and found the food stall to be manned all night.
The two eastern tunnels were
believed to be functioning in similar fashion, one out of a car garage, the
other out of a fruit and vegetables stand.
They had no concrete evidence
that these were the actual entrances to the tunnels but further inspection of
the activity at the three locations convinced them to send a team to infiltrate
one of the establishments and find out for sure.
Of the three, the garage
tunnel seemed to be the most vulnerable after business hours. The food
stand tunnel and the fruit tunnel were almost impossible to penetrate without
having to use force with two guards present at all hours of the night and no
additional entrances to speak of at such small space.
The garage, on the other hand,
had two entrances, one at the front and another at the back where repaired cars
would exit. Those were locked after hours but not regularly watched
during the night. Aziz had driven his car into the garage at one point
pretending to need an oil change and noticed a trap door at one of the two oil
bays beneath the cars being serviced.
After further preparations at
the apartment, a team of five made its way along the quiet narrow streets of
Beirut’s port district and reached its destination at half past midnight.
Devlin, Aziz, and Amar, one of
Aziz’s many nephews, armed with flash lights, a two-way radio, pistols, metal
cutters and crowbars, were to go into the tunnel while Saeed was to watch the
front and Jaras, a burly giant of a man, the back. They were to alert the
team via a two-way radio and fend off any undesired surprises as best they can.
Saeed took his place watching
the two guards at the front of the garage drinking coffee and puffing on their
cigarettes. Previous surveillance had timed patrols at one hour intervals
by one of the guards around the garage. So the team waited for the next
patrol before making their move.
Two clicks on the radio
alerted the team that the guard was approaching and when he had disappeared
around the corner of the garage, they carefully approached the back doors.
The two metal doors were held
with a stout combination lock securing them to one another through metal hinges
but Jaras had little problem cutting them with the metal cutters. The
team had brought a replacement lock to cover their tracks.
Aziz led them in the dark
amongst silent vehicles to the closest oil bay which they carefully entered and
shone the flash light for a brief moment to look for the door. They found
nothing but oil bowls and car repair equipment.
Quickly moving to the second
bay in the shadow of a pick-up truck, they descended the few stairs and flashed
the light again. Once again there was equipment - but the trap door was
there.