جاده‌ای به بعلبک

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Road to Ba’albek

At six o’clock, Salahadin and Fuad arrived at the docks in Beirut. They sat in the car and waited for the arrival of The Sudan.

There was another car on the docks.

‘Do you see that black car over there’ asked Fuad.

‘The one with two men in the front?’

‘Yes,’ said Fuad, ‘and there’s a fat man sitting in the back seat. I know him. He’s interested in antiquities. He often comes to the museum.’

The Sudan soon appeared at the entrance to the docks. It reached the dockside just after half past six and the passengers came down the gangway.

‘There he is,’ said Salahadin, ‘the man on the gangway! He’s tall. He has fair hair and broad shoulders. That’s the man.’

‘But, I know him,’ said Fuad. ‘He’s a Swede and his name is Barkman. He’s interested in antiquities, too. I’ve often seen him in the museum.’

‘Where’s the box’ asked Salahadin. ‘He’s not carrying a box.’

‘Let’s wait and see,’ said Fuad. ‘Perhaps he’s given the box to a porter.’

‘Look,’ said Salahadin. ‘The black car is moving.’

The black car moved a few metres and stopped again behind a shed. Fuad and Salahadin sat and waited. Barkman got off the boat and got into a taxi. But he was not carrying a heavy box. The taxi started to move away.

‘Let’s follow him,’ said Fuad.

‘Wait a moment,’ said Salahadin. ‘Watch the black car.’

Salahadin was right. The black car pulled out slowly and followed Barkman’s taxi.

‘We can go now,’ said Salahadin. ‘We’ll follow the black car. There’s something strange here.’

The three cars drove out of the docks, one after the other. The taxi went quickly through the streets of Beirut. Then it started to climb the steep road towards the mountains. The black car followed the taxi. Fuad followed the black car.

‘Isn’t this the road to your village’ asked Salahadin.

‘Yes,’ replied Fuad. ‘This road goes higher up the mountains. It goes to a small town called Ba’albek.’

‘I’ve heard of Ba’albek,’ said Salahadin. ‘There are some famous ruins there.’

‘And there’s a gang of smugglers, too,’ said Fuad. ‘They smuggle antiquities out of Beirut.’

The three cars drove up the steep road. They went past Fuad’s village. Fuad drove on in silence. The road became narrower and steeper and Fuad did not drive too close to the black car.

‘The road’s more dangerous here,’ said Fuad. ‘There was an accident a few weeks ago. Four people were killed.’

For a few moments nothing happened. Then the black car began to go faster. It had moved into the middle of the road and was trying to pass Barkman’s taxi. The two cars were now side by side. They were almost touching each other.

There was a sharp bend in the road in front of them.

‘They’ll never get round that bend,’ shouted Fuad.

But it was already too late. There was a loud crashing noise. Fuad slowed down and drove carefully round the bend. The black car and the taxi had disappeared. In front of them, the road was empty. Everything was silent.