Taking a Powder
Chapter 18
It had arrived and he’d been expecting it for a couple of weeks. It was the tip off from Vasily that it was time to immediately flee the country: ASAP, tout suite, stat or sooner. His hunters had located his lair and were en route to his location. Vlad had already laid the plans to leave and only waited for Vasily’s heads-up that the time had finally come.
He’d discreetly booked passage on a tramp steamer sailing to Mombasa. Despite the fact the ship was an outdated rust-bucket; it was wholly seaworthy and reliable according to its captain. However, the captain was less than worthy, and perhaps reliable, demanding a hefty bribe for his discretion, assistance and silence. Vlad gladly paid the avaricious piper, but kept his revolver handy just in case he might be double crossed by the gentleman. Of course, if that were to happen, the captain wouldn’t live to regret it.
He’d parked his Mini-Moke in the driveway where it could be seen by any watchers and at night had walked out the backdoor into the dense foliage and headed for the port in town. As a special guest, he immediately boarded the ship before its scheduled departure and laid low until it sailed the next day.
Hans Vogel was now Sven Jensen, a Swedish engineer on holiday. His passport, along with the pocket litter, attested to his new identity. He’d actually picked up some Swedish during his career and could speak it with limited authority, except with another Swede who would readily see through the ruse.
His exit plan called for boarding the train in Mombasa and he easily made the daily connection to Nairobi. The new line reduced the travel time by a full eight hours and Vlad appreciated the shorter trip and air conditioned coach car. It sure beat the hell out of a long bus ride through the vast Tsavo wilderness of eastern Kenya.
He’d stayed one night at the landmark Norfolk Hotel located downtown in the capital and found the coincidence terribly ironic. He recalled that on New Year’s Eve in 1980 the iconic hotel was badly damaged by a large bomb secreted in a suitcase left behind by an Islamic terrorist. The Moroccan militant checked into the hotel on December 23rd and departed for Saudi Arabia just hours before the blast. The ensuing fire caused as much damage as the bomb and 15 people lost their lives.
It was payback to the Kenyans who facilitated the celebrated raid on Entebbe by giving landing and fuelling rights to the planes carrying Israeli commandoes into Uganda. The hotel was owned by the Jewish Block family at the time and represented a soft target for seeking revenge.
Vlad had selected the Norfolk at random and only later remembered the event of 1980. He wondered about the karma or synchronicity in his choice of lodging. An earlier terrorist and now a current terrorist staying at the same hotel was amazing kismet and he took it as a fortuitous sign of good things to come.
He next hired a car and driver to take him to Kampala, the capital of Uganda. He enjoyed the scenery as they drove around the northern tip of Lake Victoria, but was anxious to keep moving. The source of the Nile River was close and his driver asked if he wanted to see it. For the equivalent of 25 cents, one was allowed to pee in the river’s origin; supposedly for good luck or to relieve full bladders. However, he declined the offer since he had a plane to catch at the Entebbe airport. He was now in a hurry to reach his next destination and the circuitous route he’d chosen wasn’t for the purpose of tourism. Rather it was designed to throw off any tails that might be following him on his journey. But he was confident he was safe from those who might be tracking his movements throughout East Africa. The next leg of his trip would be to Dubai where he’d take a couple days of R&R and then onward to his final destination.
Not forgetting his manners, Vlad had planned for a warm welcome for his uninvited houseguests at the bungalow he’d just vacated in the Seychelles. It would be one they’d never remember.