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Quickly cornering Omah, they rapidly engaged him in animated conversation, occasionally stopping briefly to look in my direction. At the apparent end of the discussion the pock-faced man shrugged his shoulders, casting a final glance at me as he and his colleague walked out of the room.

Omah quickly came to the point. “The fact that you know me has cast a shadow over this whole affair. They were listening when we introduced ourselves, and they have been agitated ever since. Their lives are on the line if something goes wrong, so we need to know more about you.”

 

I took a deep breath, circumstances were rapidly changing, and to use a nautical term, the wind was being taken out of my sails. “I’ll tell you the truth, the parcel came to me by mail at Port Said. I was asked just to deliver it.”

“We need to know more than that. What part of the intelligence organization are you from? And let us have some names.”

“I’m not part of any organization, and I don’t know any names. I was virtually blackmailed into delivering the package; I don’t even know what’s in it.”

“It’s a key code for my transmitter and they think you know about it. You must have realized when you recognized me, and knew of my radio background that I was involved. Until they are convinced that all is well, they won’t let you go.”

 

Before I had the opportunity to respond, the two men came back into the room again, the conversation soon reaching fever pitch. The pock-faced man kept running to the small window facing out from the rear of the building, looking out into the darkness, then back again. Opening the drawer of one of the side tables, he extracted two army service revolvers, giving one to his colleague, at the same time snapping open the breach to check the chamber for bullets, then both men ran out of the side door.

Omah explained. “A stranger has appeared at one of the other houses which is vacant. He is snooping around, heading this way. They think it is too much of a coincidence that it is happening whilst you are here. Wait while I check to see what’s going on.”

 

I leaned against the table, if I sat down I would be at a disadvantage if anything happened. My stomach muscles were in knots, the adrenalin was flowing and I felt the hair standing up on the back of my neck. In quick succession my knees started to shake, indicating the state of my nerves.

I hardly had time to get control of myself when two muffled shots rang out and within seconds, a third. The intensity indicated that the shots originated well away from the house. I panicked at the prospect of being involved, but before I had time to think Omah reappeared.

“They have shot somebody, stay here while we get rid of the body!” My mind was suddenly activated.

 

With everyone out at the back, the front of the house would be clear. It was an opportune time for me to get out.

As fast as his shaking legs would carry me, and without losing time going down the steps, I jumped from the front verandah, miraculously making it to the street. Heading for the main road gasping for breath, and with a stitch in my side, I searched the darkness ahead for any obstructions.

Scared to look back I ran on to the main road, and headed in what I thought would be the direction of the Queen of Sheba’s Wells. Once there, I could get transport back to the ship.

Suddenly, the lights of a vehicle coming over the hill bore down on him, and he guessed that Omah and his men had caught up with him.

 

I stopped for a second or two, the terrain around me on either side of the road was rocky and barren without any cover, leaving me completely exposed. The horn of the vehicle shattered the still night and I could now hear the engine noise, coupled with the rattling of wheels and body metal. I calculated that he may be able to lose them, and escape into the rocky outcrops, which the vehicle would not be able to negotiate, so I took off at right angles to the road, but the going was painfully slow over the uneven ground.

 

The horn sounded again this time followed by gunfire. My God, they’re shooting at me! But he heard no bullets and felt no pain in his body. I could still hear the vehicle approaching, and making a fatal mistake  turned to see how far it was behind. Missing my footing I fell on the rocky ground and rolled over. Getting up on my hands and knees I looked around for even the slightest cover, but there was none.

For the first time I could hear excited voices, quite close. In despair, I collapsed to the ground terrified, waiting for what I thought would be the same fate as the victim of the previous shooting. The voices were only yards away now, the tone was commanding, and in Arabic. I could hear no footsteps, indicating that they had stopped, and there appeared to be two men, one on either side of me.

 

Rolling over, and bringing myself into a sitting position, I stared through the darkness in their direction. More shouted commands, and I made no further moves as they came closer. At first, I could not recognize the dim shapes as they approached, but very soon I could not mistake their uniform.

They were Adenese police carrying army rifles which were pointing at me. I never thought it possible, and knew I was in a very dangerous position, but felt relieved in some way. If I made no movements he would probably be alright, so remained passive. It was a typical “out of the frying pan into the fire” situation, but there was no comparison with my previous predicament.

 

One of the policemen moved behind me and the other motioned me to stand. The man behind me then proceeded to search for weapons, then pulling my arms backwards I felt the handcuffs snap over my wrists. All three walked slowly back to what I now knew to be the police wagon. Throughout the whole period, since escaping from the house, he had seen no one other than these police. The area seemed to be deserted.

 

Throwing me unceremoniously into the back of the vehicle, and locking the steel door behind me, they proceeded to drive down the hill. Looking out of the window, it seemed only a few minutes before the entrance to the Queen of Sheba’s Wells appeared. What confounded bad luck I was thinking. If I’d had the grace of another fifteen minutes I would have made it!

 

Through the small meshed open window to the driver’s compartment over the noise of the engine, I could hear the rapid chatter of the policemen’s voices, interposed occasionally with laughter, and once again I experienced that same feeling of relief that I had on the rocky outcrop some fifteen minutes earlier.

 

In complete contradiction to my predicament, I actually felt safe enclosed within the walls of my mobile prison. More laughter emanated from the front and I felt himself breaking into a nervous smile. Within minutes the wagon pulled up, and I assumed that they had probably arrived at a police station on the outskirts of Aden.

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