Gun-Running!
197
and almost hidden by vines and shrubbery. A lone man sat on
the porch. As we opened the iron gate he sprang to his feet.
Recognizing Moustafa and Fans he put down his gun and
welcomed us. We were not allowed to go inside. Instead, two
men came out, inspected our guns and said they needed minor
repairs to which they would attend.
As soon as the repairs were done they'd be sent to El Arish
(just this side of the Palestine border, and the assembly point
for government troops) and there picked up by the owners.
We got receipts for the guns, then we got into a taxi again,
and drove on.
"That house is a depot for guns and ammunition. It's a very
secret place."
"Whose place is it, Moustafa?"
"The Mufti's!"
Faris turned to me, after a moment, and said: "We have a
surprise for you."
I completely distrusted the man. "What is it?"
"You will learn very soon."
We had been riding for about five minutes through typical
native quarters, when I noticed suddenly that wc were driving
down a dirt road ending with a roadblock of large gasolinedrums filled with cement. Around them, at the entrances to
several spacious houses, were armed guards and plainclothesmen. It was a military headquarters of some kind. The taxi
stopped short of the roadblock, and we got out.
Moustafa leaned over toward me. "Don't speak English,"
he whispered.
We dismissed the driver, and walked into a yard, then onto
a porch.
"Where are we, Moustafa?"
"At the Mufti's headquarters. We are going to try to have
him see you."
I crossed my fingers, and waited. The two went inside and
soon emerged with a dark-haired, sharp-featured young man
who spoke excellent English.