My friend shrugged and said: “If somebody had consulted me about it from the very beginning, I might have been able to help, as I did in Merengue.”
I remembered Costaki’s caper in the West African Republic of Merengue, where he had scotched the attempted takeover of a western embassy through the judicious use of Brooklax tablets and I asked him if that was what he meant.
“Oh, no,” he replied. “This was something entirely different. Fill up your glass and let me tell you about it.”
I obediently got a refill and went back to him.
“I’m all ears,” I said.
“Well,” Costaki began, “you will remember that a few months after the Brooklax incident, the People’s Army for the Liberation of Merengue’s Oppressed, Lowly, Inferior and Victimized Elements (PALMOLIVE) managed to take power with the help of massive aid from the Soviets and with Cuban mercenaries, under the leadership of the satanic Jean-Baptiste L’ Aperture, whose reign of terror will never be forgotten.”
I nodded. I was not too wellversed in West African affairs but I had heard of the takeover by the Moscow trained L’Aperture and the subsequent bloodbath that decimated the population of Merengue. I had also heard of L’Aperture’s eventual overthrow by a reactionary group, sponsored by the Merenguan clergy – if that is what you can call the witch-doctors who exerted a strong spiritual influence over the Merenguan masses. In fact, they had said at the time that it was a powerful juju invoked by the witch-doctors which drove L’ Aperture insane, causing him to seek treatment in a Moscow clinic (where his affliction was more correctly ascribed to the effects of advanced syphilis) and leaving the leaderless PALMOLIVE to be overthrown by the Army of the Revolution for the Restoration of Independence and Democracy (ARRID).
“Yes,” Costaki said, “so much you know. But what neither you nor anybody else knows is that a few days after ARRID came into power, they seized the Soviet Embassy in Merengue and held the two hundred and fifty-four men and five women of’its staff’ as hostages. They wanted the return of L’Aperture, who was to be tried as a traitor and a murderer, and they demanded payment in gold for all the bananas and palm oil they had exported to Russia during the entire period of.L’Aperture’s regime, for which they had never received a penny. They also wanted all the money L’Aperture was believed to have stashed into a numbered Swiss bank account and they threatened to start eating the hostages one by one, starting with the women, if their terms were not met within a week.”
“That’s amazing,” I remarked, “how come nobody ever heard anything about this?”
“Well, you see,” Costaki explained, “there were no western correspondents or embassies in Merengue after the communist takeover and none were allowed in when ARRID took charge. So how was anyone to know? Anyway, to cut a long story short, the Russians decided to consult me on the strength of my previous experience with Merenguan terrorism.
I was invited to Moscow to confer with the committee appointed by the Politburo to deal with the problem and we studied the various alternatives open to us. The KGB man on the committee stressed the need for swift action.
There was no way of knowing whether the embassy staff in Merengue had been successful in destroying th,eir files before the seizure and whether ARRID had cottoned onto the fact that the embassy had been the headquarters of a gigantic spy network covering the entire African continent.
“If we don’t do something to stop them,” the KGB man groaned, “they will soon be eating the KGB College’s entire classes of ’68, ’69 and ’70.”
An Entebbe-type raid was dismissed as unfeasible. Merengue was too far and the Soviets did not have specially-trained anti-terrorist squads for such an operation. A helicopter rescue attempt from an aircraft carrier was also ruled out. All available helicopters were engaged in shooting rebellious tribesmen in Afghanistan.
Finally the committee was just about to decide that there was nothing to be done but give in to the demands – L’Aperture was a raving lunatic anyway and a few million roubles were well worth 259 welltrained agents, even with their covers blown – so what the hell, when one committee-member spoke up and said:
“That’s all very well, but what guarantee do we have that the hostages will be set free after we have sent back L ‘Aperture and paid them the money? Like true blackmailers they could hang onto them and ask for more money – there’d never be an end to it.”
“Da, da, da,” the other members of the committee concurred and we appeared to be stumped once more.
Just then, a phone call came in to announce that L’Aperture had thrown himself out of a seventhstory window in the clinic, conveniently left open by an attendant who couldn’t stand the Merenguebeat L’Aperture had been playing on the wall with his head for the past fifteen hours.
And that gave me an idea. I outlined my plan to the committee and, although some of them were doubtful about my chances for success, ,the deadline was drawing close and nobody had anything better to propose.
Next morning, two Ilyushins took off from Sheremetyevo Airport, one of them carrying several crates of gold bullion, a coffin containing the body of Jean-Baptiste L’ Aperture and yours truly, holding one ·of those wooden Babushka dolls that contain smaller dolls inside them.
When we landed at Merengue we were immediately surrounded by heavily-armed troops who unloaded the gold and the coffin. The reception committee was headed by Mambo Jambo, the chief witch-doctor of Merengue who had spurred the ARRID revolt from his exile in Paris. He spoke excellent French and it sounded a bit incongruous to me, coming as it did from behind a hideous mask, topped with feathers and accompanied by the shaking of a rattle, made of human bones, that he carried in his right hand.
“I see you have brought the gold and the body of the Evil One, O esteemed Brooklax,” he said. (It is ironic that because Merenguaris find it difficult to pronounce Dyskilios, they call me by the remedy to my affliction.)
“Indeed, I have,” I replied, “and I am glad to have been of service once more to your glorious country.”
“Yes, but the Russians have not complied with the terms of our agreement. We wanted the Evil One alive so we could hang him and bury his spirit in the heart of a yam-yam tree from which it can never escape and spread more evil over the land.
Also, how in hell are we going to get the money from his Swiss bank account now?”
“As for the money, it belongs to his legal heirs. If they are still in Merengue, they can claim it for you. As for his spirit, I have taken certain precautions. If you act wisely now, as you have always done, O great Mambo Jambo, your power in Merengue will live for ever,” I said meaningly.
“I don’t understand. What precautions did you take? The Evil One’s spirit is free. It can inflict great hardships on our people. We shall need more gold to overcome them. Much more gold. Go back and tell that to your Russians.”
With that, Mambo Jambo shook his rattle once more and turned on his heel to walk away.
“Wait,” I cried. “Do you see this doll?” I lifted up the Babushka for all to see.
“When the Evil One died, I captured his spirit and closed it up in this doll. In this doll, lies another doll, and within that doll, another one. And within that doll, a fourth one, which contains the spirit of L’ Aperture. Shall I open the dolls for you to see?”
There was a gasp from the crowd. “You are a man of honor, Mambo Jambo. Order the hostages to be brought to the planes immediately and I shall give you the spirit of the Evil One to bury in the heart of a yam-yam tree. Otherwise I shall let it loose here and now, to stalk over the land and spread terror and devastation and seek vengeance on you for invoking the juju that drove him mad.”
I could see the witch-doctor’s eyes glaring at me balefully from behind the mask. He made no move.
I opened the first Babushka and pulled out the second one.
There was another gasp from the crowd. Mambo Jambo was still hesitating. I pulled the third doll out, and then the fourth and held it up.
“In here lies the spirit of the Evil. One. Shall I let it go?”
The crowd behind the witchdoctor was becoming restless. There were shouts of “No, no!” and a few people’ started scampering away in terror.
Finally, Mambo Jambo stalked off without saying a word. I stood by the plane for a full hour, holding up the last and smallest Babushka doll until all the hostages had arrived and were safely on the plane. My mission had succeeded.”
“Costaki,” I said, after I had stopped laughing. “Your stories are getting better and better. But tell me, what would you have done if they had asked you to help with the hostages in Iran?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Costaki replied offhandedly, “I would have thought of something.”
