three of them were heading back into the city of Rafah.
“So who is this guy we’re going to see?” Hutchinson asked.
“His name is Khalil Al Massri. He’s a, sort of a friend, kind of an old acqauintance,” Dennis replied.
“And is he the reason you wanted twenty thousand dollars in cash?”
“Yes.”
“And er! What does he do?”
Dennis put an indicator on and pulled the defender to the side of the road.
“He’s a smuggler and arms dealer.”
Hutchinson rolled his eyes and focused on the ceiling.
“I thought so.”
Dennis knew Hutchinson was always touchy on the subject of guns. Natalie was staring at Dennis in the rear view mirror.
“Look we’re going to need to arm ourselves out here. I’ve already said that the fact that we are westerners puts us at risk of kidnapping. Also if we’re right about Von Werner coming here, well, you’ve seen his private army of military contractors, I don’t think we’ll get away with it next time. Remember Naples?”
Dennis knew Hutchinson wouldn’t be happy but to the journalist’s surprise the American said.
“Will he have a good selection?”
Dennis grinned.
“We’ll have to see what he’s got.”
“What do you mean smuggle?” Natalie asked, “Smuggle what?”
“Food mainly. But anything he can get his hands on. Ninety per cent of what you can buy here in shops has been smuggled into Gaza in one form or another.”
“Smuggled from where?”
“Egypt mainly. Some does get through from Israel but not much. In Rafah, which is where I’m taking us now there are smugglers tunnels that go deep into Egypt. Everything is brought in through them.”
“Including weapons?”
“Yeah probably. Though they’d never admit it.”
“What if the government found out?”
Dennis raised his eyebrows at her.
“Oh I see. They already know.”
A police car going in the opposite direction slowed to almost a stop as it passed them. All three officers in the car were staring at them. Dennis glanced across at them.
“You see, we’re already drawing attention to ourselves.”
The next time he looked over the driver appeared to be getting ready to perform a u-turn in the road and come over to them. Dennis quickly put the defender into first gear and rejoined the road.
Thirty minutes later Dennis turned off this road and began heading towards the Egyptain border again. The tarmac road ended and turned to sand, terrain more suited to the land rover. Ahead they could see the beginnings of ruined buildings, houses, huge mounds of earth, large earth moving vehicles and the tarpaulins of makeshift camps.
“Where the hell are we now?” Hutchinson said.
“It looks like a building site,” Natalie added.
“More like a refugee camp,” Hutchinson put in.
“You’re both wrong,” Dennis said stopping the land rover next to a man in a green khaki army uniform and carrying an AK-47 Kalashnikov. Dennis wound his window down and greeted the man who looked through the windows at Dennis’ companions. He and Dennis exchanged a few sentences in Arabic then the armed man nodded and stepped back. Dennis did his window up and then turned to Natalie and Hutchinson.
“Welcome to the smuggling capital of Gaza.”
They drove on past buildings several storeys high, some just ruined hulks of masonry, many exposing the scars of bullet holes and fire damage, others, amazingly looked finished, complete with doors and windows. Ahead was a tall guard tower proudly displaying the Palestinian flag.
“There are over twelve hundred tunnels here,” Dennis said as they drove past row upon row of tents, “The tunnels burrow under the border and into Egypt. The Egyptian government has, since 2009, been trying to close them but they’re fighting a losing battle. For every one they are able to destroy another ten open up. They are mainly under the tents and tarpaulins. Some are under the floors of houses. There are also loads of them out under those olive groves over there.”
Natalie and Hutchinson were amazed at what they saw as they drove through what was clearly a huge well organised, precise, operation, on a massive scale.
They passed a black Mitsubishi warrior pick up truck filled with police.
“Uh Pete,” Hutchinson said, pointing out the officers.
“Relax. This is state sanctioned smuggling. There is nothing secretive about what goes on here. Every one of the smugglers pays a tax to Hamas to keep his tunnel open.”
“It’s absolutely unbelievable,” Hutchinson said.
“It’s a fight for survival. For some it’s their only way of life. On average three a week are killed by Israeli or Egyptian attacks or just tunnel collapses.”
“Why do they do it?”
“For them the money is good. A successful smuggler can earn twenty five