The Gassenga Affair

34

Chapter 1

The man from the Foreign Office crossed the busy London street hurriedly, His umbrella thrust out in front of him to shelter from the sudden down pour his shoes which were fairly well worn were now letting in water from the road, Harold Greener was not a happy man, he cursed his boss, he cursed his department, he cursed the rain, and in particular the taxi which had just missed him, leaving his lower legs soaked. He had already decided that this was not going to be one of his better days. On gaining the pavement he glanced up at the street numbers, just a bit further on and there was number thirty four. He had wondered about this address, the area was busy but in his mind a little out of the way. He thought to himself why do these bloody military types always pick such out of the way places for their meetings’. He had been instructed to meet with a Royal Marines Colonel, his instructions had been fairly vague, but centered around his knowledge of the Nation of Gassenga, which had been a British Protectorate about 49 years ago, that was 4 years before he was born, which has nothing to do with the present. He had however taken an interest in the Country and it’s affairs soon after joining the Foreign Office staff after completing his studies at Oxford. He had been very junior then, back in 1988, but he had worked hard, toed the line and adhered to the Foreign Office policy’s regarding staff, in particular those earmarked for the onward and upward career path. He had even married not through true love, passion, nor lust, but because it had been put to him that married staff received a much kinder eye when it came down to the nitty gritty of promotions, and as a junior Harold Greener wanted to be on his way up the ladder. Mrs Greener had been a tall girl of not particular good looks, the daughter of a moderately successful Stockbroker who had instilled in her the socially accepted values of the latter years of Queen Victoria’s reign, and in these Mary Greener lived her life, socially she was happy with her lot, a house near Guildford, a husband on his way up the FO ladder, it was indeed unfortunate however that if the truth were known, Harold could have been any senior civil servant, for her it had been a marriage of convenience, it had in fact saved her from possible spinsterhood.

Harold Greener arrived at the building, closed his umbrella with a flourish in a vain effort to shake the water off it.

On entering the building he found yet another reason to wish that day had not started, the lift had the well known sign, hand written on a piece of cardboard Out of Order. The man stood and shook himself, his raincoat and the umbrella that had so far only done some fairly unsatisfactory work. He walked slowly to the stairs which were wide and marble, a sign of another age. When he reached the second floor he was surprised to find a large man in a good quality suit sitting at a desk placed across the passageway. The man stood and said Mr. Greener I presume "yes it is, and this is not bloody darkest Africa’ The large man did not seem offended but asked for some form of official identification, it was more of a demand with menace and the reaction of Mr. Greener was that of a man who avoided menace and violence like the plague. His ID Badge was flicked out of his top pocket and presented. The large one examined it with care, nodded and indicated that he should proceed along the passage to where a door had just been opened

Greener entered the room and was immediately intrigued by the well furnished room, deep leather chairs, the drinks cabinet and the tall man in civilian clothing, he was groomed to perfection, trim military moustache, neat haircut, and the dark Saville Row suit complete with regimental tie. ‘Do come in Mr. Greener, I trust the rain has not done too much damage to your cloths’ Greener knew at once that the state of his shoes and lower trousers had been noted as he had entered the room. ‘The rain came very suddenly, I got very wet very quickly, however whom do I have the pleasure of addressing’ The tall man’s hand came out to shake hands ‘ My name is Smithers, Colonel Smithers, Royal Marines, and I do apologize for bringing you here without due warning, but in my business we mostly have to act very quickly, please take a seat, and what would you like to drink’ he waved his hand in the direction of the cabinet, ’We have almost everything. Greener’s thought process bounded along the lines that the day was getting better, ‘A large whiskey and soda would be most welcome’ he said. Colonel Smithers raised his head and in a Parade Ground voice yelled Corporal, drinks please’. The large man in the good suit appeared and was instructed what drinks to prepare, and as he served them was also instructed that two lunches would be required at 1300, and not before. The Colonel dismissed him with a further request ‘We do not wish to be disturbed until lunch’ The Corporal acknowledged this with an attempted salute, stopping abruptly on realizing he was in civvies.

‘Now’ said the Royal Marine ‘I have been informed that you are one of the few people in the country that knows anything worth knowing about Gassenga, is this correct? ‘It is, sir Greener replied ‘but really what could be your interest in such a small out of the way place?. The Colonel replied that ‘Since their newly acquired prosperity we have noticed some small, but strange events, I’ll tell you more when you have taught me all there is to know about the place, treat this as a intimate classroom with whiskey for the teacher"

Harold Greener sat back and thought for a minute, then started out to describe the country as he knew it. ‘Gassenga as you well know is a small island off the coast of west Africa, just on 60 miles due west of the Rio Nune, they have a monarchy and have done since time began, the present King is Singabah, he is fairly traditional but wise enough to accept change when it benefits his people. There are two islands, the main one is Gassenga, and to the west is West Gassenga. Recently we, that is the British Government have arranged for mineral exploration to take place, with I might say some startling results, there is now a high degree of prosperity in the kingdom previously undreamt of. I met the King once, nice chap really, he has only been here to England twice in his life. But he has a brother, one I feel he wishes he had not. The brother Kataba, is some twenty years younger than the king, don’t ask me how that happened, but it did. Kataba was sent here to England for schooling, he attended Malarian School in Cheshire, not a very well known place. Whilst he was there he was marked down as the worst student, in his mid teens he was more interested in the young local females, some of whom he introduced to his rather peculiar sexual tastes. There were quite a few rather ugly incidents, a couple of which could not be hushed up, actually went to Court a couple of times. After Malarian he went to Oxford, how I really do not know, shocking scholar, bribed boys to complete his work at school, this tactic did not work for him at Oxford and after", he paused to think back, ‘about two years he went back to Gassa, that’s their capital. He speaks good English, which enables him to advance his own ambitions. From what I gather these days he has plenty of influence, and no doubt power within the new industries, mostly mining, they have gold, an apparently large diamond field that shows great promise and some hither to undeveloped rare mineral deposits.

I really do not know too much about the place today as I have moved departments, if is more you wish to know, please call’. Colonel Smithers stood up to pour another drink each for them, ‘You asked at the beginning why we were interested in Gassenga, said the Colonel There are several small reasons, which if added together may possibly make a total, a total that we wish to avoid. Harold Greener replied, If there is anything, I can do to help, I most certainly will he continued " I was for many years in the section that dealt with Gassengan affairs, even learnt a few words of their language, which is similar to one or two of the languages spoken in Guinea.

Colonel Smithers considered, then decided to take the Foreign Office man into his confidence. ‘There have been several strange events recently, which we are unable at this time to, to understand what is happening. Do you remember about a year ago or more, there were a series of advertisements for young secretarial workers, all girls, there were two year contracts, good salaries, accommodation, free fares out there, all too good to be true. There are other things too but the secretarial workers are of interest, none of them, about twenty two girls have ever been back here for a holiday, they all seem to write to their families at the same time. These girls were recruited from widely different areas, there has been some questions asked by parents, that’s why we are interested, apart from who their government is talking to, in the Middle East.

At 1300 the Corporal knocked on the door, prior to entering with a tray of food, two plates with appropriate cutlery and asked permission to serve the lunch, the Colonel asked if it were his favourite, it was, Lancashire Hotpot. Both men settled down to enjoy their meal. After the meal and another well proportioned Scotch they discussed other items, there was some evidence of larger than normal arms shipments, some increased activity at the small airport, which could be normal improvements. The Colonel asked what was known about the apparent separation of the Port area of the capital and the government and military infrastructure, Greener had to admit that he had heard some rumours, but nothing substantial. After agreeing to keep in touch as and when any further information came to light the two parted.

As the Royal Marine sat pondering the unanswered questions he tried to reconcile the contrasting details, was this a military problem, it did not seem like it, why would the government wish to get itself involved with a small island’s affairs, the British had been involved before when Gassenga had been a protectorate, but that had finished back in 1962. What was the nature of the rare minerals, were the islands leaders dealing with any other nation that would be considered unfriendly. The air transport area was obviously inadequate but Greener had told him that the main port area at Gassa whilst being a little primitive was served by a deep water anchorage. Which would no doubt be good for shipping, but what about air travel, it seemed that the facilities at present were not good, work was going on, they would need a lengthened runway for heavy Aircraft, currently only feeder type aircraft could be used, with limited passenger numbers, and limited freight. Gassenga as such apparently owned no aircraft, all their needs were handled by small foreign charter operators. There had been a lot of traffic recently which had been mostly mineworkers, coming in, also it seemed that the Gassenga Mining Company preferred their miners to be Bulgarian or Albanian. These miners were being housed in Camps which had been established equidistant between Mines where possible and were given individual rooms for the more senior people and Barrack Room style for the less experienced employees, food and recreation facilities were contained within the Camps which were also supervised by members of the Gassengan Army, whose job it was to contain the workers within the camp environs, Mine workers were not encouraged to venture out into the wider community.

Chapter 2

Kataba or Prince Kataba as he liked to be called was sitting on the upper floor of his mansion just three miles out of Gassa, He was expecting two men that with him as their leader were the ultimate power of the two islands, not that West Gassenga had much to offer, it was a good place to put undesirables and as the trio of power progressed they seemed to find more and more people who fitted into this category. He heard the car approaching the house, they would be with him very soon. He turned to look at the girl on the floor, she was naked, she was white, and she was bleeding from her mouth, the result of not having obeyed Kataba’s instructions quickly enough. You girl he called ‘get the hell out of here now, wash your face and be ready to play our little game again tomorrow’.

The girl struggled to her feet, picked up a small piece of cloth and wiped the blood from her mouth, and bowed to Kataba ‘My Prince’ she said in a low voice, the accent Scottish. She was gone in a second. The two passengers in the car were saluted by a uniformed servant as he opened the door, they both slid out and walked towards to gabled entrance of the Prince’s Mansion. Another uniformed servant led them to the upstairs reception hall, the main feature of the room was it’s ornately carved hardwood table, dark and highly polished it almost glowed in the soft light, its darkness reflected the silverware that adorned the table’s spacious top. The guests were ushered into the room, Kataba rose and called them over to the corner he occupied.

‘Come, we will sit here until dinner, fix your own drinks, I want no eavesdropping tonight"

One visitor was black, the other white. The tall well built black man was Brigadier Kasso Penti, commanding officer of the Gassenga Defence Force, a command that grew larger by the month and at present numbered five hundred and fifty well trained soldiers with a further two hundred undergoing training. The white man was George Henry Stamford, George Henry had been in Gassenga for three years. He was originally from Britain but had remained outside her borders due to some original and adventurous accounting, just after qualifying as an accountant. He had survived in various countries on the African mainland but had met Kataba in Conakry, kindred spirits, they were made for each other. George Stamford was also quite good with languages and had managed to get a good command of the local Gassana, the language spoken by the majority of the inhabitants, whereas English was the language of the ruling classes, a snobbish hangover from the days of the Protectorate. When they were all seated Kataba announced that he had some very good news, which was from a report given him by the head research Geologist. ‘We have struck real pay dirt gentlemen, something we had never even thought of, we have it seems some very rich deposits of both Holmium, and better still Samarium which I am told on good authority are greatly valued by the builders of" he paused for effect, ‘Smart Missiles’.

The Brigadier and Stamford sat up, smiles creased their faces. ’So’ said the Brigadier ‘who else knows about this, ‘just us now’ said Kataba. The clever little man who found it had kept all the information to himself, hoping I think for a larger commission, however some members of my personal guard have taken him away to join my brother on West’. The other two nodded with some satisfaction. They knew that the Camp on West Gassenga was secure and was the current residence of Singabah, the King whose illness, which they had invented, had been made public and was from time to time updated for public consumption. King Singabah was kept quiet and contented with his daily dose of Chemicals de Jour.

Kataba continued his report to his partners." my first thoughts were what do we do, who do we know that would be interested, the answer was simple, and the probable purchaser is not as far away, not so far as the people who already have some of these minerals and who would without doubt have quibbled about the price, the new client we have to meet officially is Iran’.

Kataba looked at each of the other two expectantly.

It was Stamford who was the one whose mind had worked the fastest, ‘Both of these minerals have applications for modern weapons, and currently our, should I say, new friends are tooling up in a big way’.

Kataba then came to his final piece of information, he told them that he had sent a secure signal to Bandar Abbas regarding the mining potential and was awaiting a reply. So they rose and walked over to the dinning table signaling the staff to commence serving.

Chapter 3

Three weeks later as Colonel Smithers attended to the day to day tasks at his desk a Marine Corporal knocked on the door and entered on the command come in. Three paces forward, a smart halt and salute ‘A signal for you sir’. He handed the folded signal sheet over the desk, and at the colonels nod about turned with parade ground precision and marched out, Smithers opened the signal.

FOR INFORMATION ONLY REGARDING YOUR AREA OF INTEREST FOUR DAYS AGO IRANIAN FRIGATE 76 JAMARAN DEPARTED BANDAR ABBAS TRANSITTED SUEZ INTO MED PASSED THROUGH GIBRALTAR AND TURNED SOUTH. ALSO NAHANG CLASS SUB DEPARTED SAME PORT/TIME

NO FURTHER INFO.         OCRNI/MED

This was yet another twist to the Gassenga mystery. He pondered the evidence, the options and potential future ramifications, it was all too airy fairy at the moment, something was going on but what, and what would an Iranian Frigate be doing that far from home, no matter where she was bound. He picked up his phone and asked to be put through to a number in London. When the phone was answered at the other end the voice sounded relaxed ‘hello Sammy, how are you, and what little problem can I help you with’. Sammy Smithers and the man in Intelligence were old friends and went back a very long way. ‘What have you on an Iranian frigate now out in the Atlantic and heading south, I need to know where he intends putting his hook down’, there was a pause then the voice said ‘we are not sure, there’s a sub as well somewhere, but so far we have nothing but I am going to ask our transatlantic cousins if they have any worthwhile overheads, and if not why not, right now I’ve got to go, I’ll keep you posted, cheers. The phone went dead.

Meanwhile in a suburb of Manchester Detective Constable Ann Willet drove down a quiet suburban street with trees and neat houses which had neat gardens, homes of people described as comfortable. She spotted 67 and pulled the unmarked Police car up just past the gate. Closing her door and locking the car she walked slowly towards the front door, the Parkers were expecting her but she was in a quandary about the enquiry, she knocked on the door and heard approaching footsteps. The door was opened by a man who appeared to be in his sixties, ‘Mr. Parker’ she queried.

The answer came in the affirmative and a request to please come in. They seated the Detective Constable after the introductions, and the Parkers sat down opposite her. Ann Willet started the conversation by asking them to describe the problem, as she was at this point a little unsure, I should not have said that she thought, we are supposed to know all, see all, but that’s not always the case. Charles Parker started off, ‘it’s about our daughter Gillian, she is 24 now and working abroad, now I know that is quite common place in this day and age, but we did have some reservations when she told us about the job. She on the other hand was so excited about going out there, and with the extra money and perks she was expecting, she could not wait’.

Ann Willet interrupted at this point ‘Out where Mr. Parker’.

‘Sorry I thought you knew, it’s a place off the West African coast, called Gassenga, I’d never even heard of it until she showed me the advertisement’.

He went on to describe the Ad. Which had been in several of the better regional papers. It had required the services of experienced female office staff, for work in the Mining Company of Gassenga, good salaries, fares paid, it had he stated been just too good for words. Ann Willet then asked the Parkers what in particular was their problem with the situation. Between Mr. Parkers and his wife they stumbled through their explanations. Gillian had been a good girl, at school and at secretarial college, was keen on animals, some team games and had always worked hard and conscientiously in her job at the local Town Hall, however since going out to Gasssenga her letters were written in her own handwriting, but were not written in her normal style, they arrived each month with a regularity that was again strange, but apart from those thoughts she had in her last letter described a beach party that the English girls working out there had attended, she had told them about the water temperature and the wonderful surf which she had enjoyed so much. Ann Willet at this juncture interrupted with a question, ‘It sounds to me that she must be enjoying herself there’.

‘That replied Mr. Parker is where the problem lies, Gillian does not swim, she also has a rare allergy to saltwater, it used to do terrible things to her, and sand too was not something she would go near, we never went to the coast, never had a holiday anywhere near water, let alone sea water’ well only once when she was really small. That is the key to our worry’.

The Parkers went on to talk about the other girls that Gillian had mentioned, around twenty they thought, all of whom had similar backgrounds and who came from places as diverse as Cornwall and Inverness in the north of Scotland. Ann Willet accepted a cup of tea and some biscuits from her hosts, and made some careful notes. She also asked if she might take the last letter with her. The Parkers agreed and thanked her for coming. Ann Willet’s last word was to promise to keep them advised as and when she had any concrete news. Best not to use the word Evidence she thought. As she drove back to the station her mind searched for effective avenues of enquiry, how do we find details of all the others? Do their families have any misgivings and if so, what are they. She could see a lot of very long hours researching twenty women’s movements, that had taken place nearly two year ago.

Her first move would be to get a copy of one of the advertisements, find out when and where the interviews would have taken place. Then Immigration would be the next line, did all the applicants have a passport, or did they apply for one in order to travel, did this place Gassenga require a visa. She knew that whilst many small or emerging countries employed experienced European staff to help facilitate their advancement they normally required visas and work permits. Another thought was that she might find that the Foreign Office itself might keep a check on British workers overseas.

On arrival at the ‘nick’ her sergeant queried what had been the result of her visit to the Parkers and was quite put out when she told him that there did appear to be something worth following up, and more so when he realized that the number of enquires were likely to take up a lot of WDC Willets working hours. For Ann Willet the next few days were non stop phone calls, emails and letters to all the government offices with anything to do with British citizens working abroad, and by chance she found Harold Greener. A phone call got her through to his office. He picked up the phone saying ‘Greener, good morning’.

Ann Willet introduced herself, stated the Police department she was working in and naturally enough her badge number. ‘Now Mr. Greener I have been informed that you are an authority on Gassenga and I am hoping that you will be able to help me with my enquires, which concern Gassenga’, Harold Greener coughed nervously for all his years in the FO, his travels and his private life he had never actually spoken to a detective, let alone a lady one. ‘I will certainly do my best to help you, er’ er’ please tell me what do I call you’.

She smiled to herself, here was