02.3 Vultures from the West

Dirk Wyse Dwire saw the ship beyond Gadu. He picked his binoculars and stepped on the beach. In his focal view, he caught the hazing image in a full close-up blob. With the impression of depth, he could see the big ship crawling towards him as if he was skimming on the surface of the deep blue water pushed around. A Soviet cruiser, an ugly beast, of any class he couldn’t tell.

Dwire took them off and judged to his naked eye. She was two kilometres away entering between Gadu and Malé. He retreated into the bushes to hide behind the canopy. Once again took a glance through his lenses. Those Russians on the ship would be watching on brass telescopes. They would probably know of his base station on Doonidoo – home of the British Representative.

“Bugger!” he muttered. This could be the second time in less than a year a Soviet ship entered these waters. The British strictly warned the sultanate not to welcome foreign ships chiefly those that belong to rival navies. For this was no internal matter to which the protectorate was given a fair amount of power to deal with. Here they were negotiating with a ‘superpower’ and the arch-rival of the Cold War. Virgo once returned to say we could look it in a different way if the protectorate status was lifted.

Dwire entered his ‘Ranulo’ hideout; a house on the island with a combination roof, two-leaf doors, a five-foot boundary wall with earthenware pots mounted on top of the posts by the corners. Undergrowth cleared leaving the palms standing.

He began to transmit a message on a Marconi set in Morse code that read ‘swive’ to alert radio silence. And it was acknowledged by ‘VS9 M’ – call sign for ‘Maldive Islands’.

When a Russian ship was in Malé outer waters, a radio boom could be heavily received and most probably they could understand the English Language spoken on two-way wireless. There was no cipher connection from Doonidoo to RAF Gan – ‘VS9 RAF’. And he was on a remote island without a boat to go anywhere. He watched the cruiser anchored less than a mile from his shore.

Far East Air Force Headquarters based in Changi, Singapore, would know precisely which vessel entered the Maldive Islands. They maintained to plot movements of ships in the Indian Ocean on a largescale ‘water table’ dry surface board placed in a map room and passed information to vital strategic bases such as RAF Gan and FESR in Malaya.

This day it was a Chapayev-class light cruiser, Projekt 68, Lazo, commissioned to the Tikhookeanski Flot – the Pacific Fleet.

Sightseers flocked on Marine Drive to watch this gigantic ship in local terms called a ‘manavar’ to the man-of-war. It was often a rare memorable sight. Children in their finest clothes tailed by their caretakers took strolls in the breezes. Most frequent ship entrances made by the Royal Navy and the French.

For sailors who climbed down, it was rather a gloomy experience. They found dusty and empty roads fallen silent like the dead of a night at the mid of the day. Not a single pub, not a single cool drink, no motor vehicle or an electric bulb. And the natives hide behind the gates as they pass.

Those sailors from the Russian ship wore blue striped telnyashka under dark blue blazers and visor less beskozirka hats. They walked down the empty roads in small groups and the island capital was so small to cover in less than an hour.

However, a vital team paid a courtesy call to Sultan Mal Vatta at the palace. Later, met two senior ministers and Undersecretary Rock at Hakra House to flock around a ‘sand table’. A man named Sayye Saeed, wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a heavily-knotted tie, flip-flops and trousers and uncombed hair, exposed developments at the base that was in full operation.

Saeed took down notes of the Russian instructions; how and where to shoot pictures and pick samples…labelling and packing. The meeting lasted a few hours.

Captain Nikolai Dmitrievich exchanged information speaking in English Language that the leaders of the government were fluent of. “Here is the KGB profile on Major Phyllis sent by MI6 behind a smokescreen as a political officer responsible to the British High Commission in Colombo. He is an expert on birds and resides in Ceylon.”

“We have been instructed by Colombo and we do know him well,” revealed Minister Virgo, “we sent a letter welcoming his appointment and that we are glad to have him with us. We in turn appointed his candidate, Adaran, as the liaison official to mediate between the British and the Addu people.”

“He’s posted to influence frontrunners, offer unremitting assistance, to encourage the Addu public and mastermind the formation of a new independent state in the south. He has power to arm the rebellion, to create sabotage, finance or bribe or say do anything to swing to the cause of independence. He knows what he’s doing. He is a clever negotiator.”

“He speaks good Divehi,” stated Virgo, “but what is the reason?”

“The British want to sell or lease Diego Garcia to the Americans and keep their own base in Addu Atoll. They have plans to build a second runway in Hulu-Meedu. And selfishly take advantage on both ends,” said Captain Dmitrievich, “For them it is Addu alone. If they have total sovereignty, they will relocate the people, social and economic infrastructure on small scale. They are never keen to modernise colonies without a Briton community.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Watch his moves. Watch him carefully. Try to grasp information about what he might be negotiating with Addu leaders. Keep low-key. Don’t blow his cover.”

“How about USSR consider arming the national guards?”

“Out of my hands,” replied the captain, “I can carry a message, sir. Even if you seek to procure weapons by diplomatic means from Russia, it’s a tall order under the circumstance of a protectorate state.”

“I understand,” said Minister Virgo, “I do not have an intention to procure arms. My intention is only to seek independence from the British.”

“Fair enough.”

“Captain Nikolai,” Virgo shook hands, “Extend our greetings and sincere thanks for the support given to us. We appreciate it.”

It was a brief stop. Lazo remained in the waters for two days. This vessel supplied the most furtive equipment that the Maldive Authorities demanded.

Dirk Wyse Dwire stepped on the beach holding a walkie-talkie with a six-foot antenna calling Malé to send a boat to pick him. There was no response.

Fortunately, he saw a fishing boat passing close to Doonidoo. He began to howl. The fishermen noticed him and rolled the wooden craft efficiently between surfaced rocks in the outer reef.

“Wow! You are clever to bring the boat between those rocks,” praised Dwire.

“You can trust me on two things,” the keyol bragged in his native tongue, “sail boats and slippery women.”

“Take me to Malé,” he requested. Dwire could understand the ordinary vocabulary.

Soon the wooden craft pushed into the sea and picked wind that sent it screaming towards the capital. Dwire wore a sunhat and a khaki shirt heading to caution the authorities.

As the boat passed the tiny island of Funadu, it lost wind. They were within arm’s reach to Malé, so close.

“Dunderhead!” cried Dwire, “Maldivian lateen sail and you cannot tack it like a slippery woman!”

Shouts grew loud as they had to tackle the problem; either to lower the yard and reattach the sail on the other side of the mast or throw the sail over the yard to the other side of the mast. Neither way was easy.

At the same time, the boat ran into a pocket of whirlpool. In this passage between Malé and Hululé, these pockets form powerful currents. The doni drifted at rapid pace caught in a vortex pass kandima lights; lanterns at the passage entrance, to shove off around Funadu. By the time they got the sail hung on the other side, the boat entered downwind.

Spontaneously, they beached on Hululé shore, a mile out from Doonidoo, and it was sundown. Dwire headed back to Ranulo – that ironically meant ‘Goldeneye’.