It was raining, which meant that the two policemen who had stationed themselves where they could watch the granite outcropping on which Le Relaise de Pointe-Noire was built were going to become very wet and uncomfortable. There was no way to get a car in there, and it had to be watched, against the off chance that either el Ferruch or the American was foolish enough to try to sneak off down the beach. The third agent would go inside the restaurant to see what he could see.
The man who went inside was the senior SORW agent, since the German could not do that without calling undue attention to himself. The SORW agent with the longest service elected to stay dry.
He stationed himself at the upstairs bar, in a position that at]owed him to keep the corridor leading to the chambres sipa ‘ rees under surveillance. He ordered a glass of wine, making careful note of the price in his expense records.
El Ferruch and the American, after an aperitif downstairs, came jauntily up the wide stairs, teasing and joking with one another. They were preceded by the maitre d’hotel, who bowed them into the private dining room. Two of el Ferruch’s Berber guards stationed themselves on either side of the door.
The waiters and wine stewards began serving the dinner. Toward the end, two Moroccan women appeared, robed, their faces masked, and entered the chambre s,@paree. The Sflret6 man wondered if they were as beautiful as they were said to be, and as skilled in mysterious erotic techniques as legend had it. He knew for a fact that they shaved their crotches. Moroccan men were repelled by pubic hair.
Inside the room, Sidi el Ferruch and the blond American were nearly naked. Meanwhile el Ferruch’s huge Senegalese took the women to one side, holding their arms so firrnly in his massive J, hands that they carried dark bruises for weeks. If either of them ever n said a word about what they saw in the chambre s@parje, he war ed them, he would slice off their breasts and send them to their fami-Ties. Ropes were produced, attached to radiators, and then released out the open windows. There was a rope apiece for each of the men, and one for the small, heavy oilskin package of currency. Once they were in the water, the American would tow the money while the jewels were strapped to the lithe, muscular, practically hairless body of Sidi Hassan el Ferruch. Neither wore any swimming costume.
Fulmar was a better swimmer then el Ferruch, and perfectly capable of handling both the currency and the jewels, but Sidi Hassan el Ferruch insisted on joining him. There was not only greater safety that way, but the boatmen they were meeting would also afterward return to Safi (the village where they made their home) and report that Sheikh Sidi Hassan el Ferruch had swum through the surf at Pointe-Noire. There would be a very nice increase in Sheikh Sidi Hassan el Ferruch’s reputation as a result. And in due course other heroic tales and legends. The reward Sidi expected to find as a consequence of tonight’s escapades, in other words, had little to do with any increases these would add to his wealth.
Unlike his friend, however, Eric wanted money-and lots of it. But he, too, was grinning like Errol Flynn as the two of them swung down their ropes. Getting the money was necessary, but the adventure of getting it was supreme delight.
But the trick was getting into the water. Dropping into the surf, YOU ran the risk of being captured by a wave and smashed against the rock. The trick, which they had practiced down the coast, was to lower oneself onto the rock as a wave receded, then immediately dive into the next wave. If that was done property, there was sufficient force in the dive to carry the diver far enough away from the rock not to be smashed against it.
Coming in was less risky. You just waited until a wave receded, then swam quickly to the rock before another crashed, and scampered up the rope out of the way of the next one.