Gun-Running!
193
the "misunderstanding," carefully counted my money, and
gave me a certification that I had brought in $380.
We arrived in Cairo shortly after midnight, and went to the
Gloria, a native hotel where the three of us shared a large
room. Never was a bed more welcome. Scorched, blistered,
and wracked by the day's events, I sank into bed, my money
belt around my waist. Inside it also were my Madonna, St.
Christopher's Medal, and mezuzah, inseparably together.
GUN-BUYING
THE next morning Moustafa, Faris and I called on a haberdashery dealer. The haberdasher drove us in a French car five
miles out, across a railroad crossing, and slowed down when
we came to a long, high mud fence surrounding a spacious
house. There was a guardhouse at the corner, then another
entrance, through which we drove into a large garden. The
trio went in. I remained outside talking in Turkish to one of
the men. "Where do you get the guns and ammunition?"
I asked.
"Why do you ask such questions?"
"Our boys would like to get them as cheaply as possible by
going to the source. The need in Palestine is desperate, and
money is hard to get."
The man wasn't impressed. "I do not know you," he said,
and kept watching me.
Moustafa and the others came down the stairs, toting two
heavy, low-slung guns. I must confess to more than ordinary
stupidity on such matters. Moustafa said they were anti-tank
guns. The smaller of the two was priced at $250, the larger at
$400. Both were rusty and struck me as terribly overpriced.
Both were "asking" prices, which in the Orient seldom have
any relation to the actual sales price. We all went into a side