Chapter 13

Loose Ends

It is clear that Mossad decided to divest itself of the Scheersberg A as rapidly as possible after the Cherbourg operation. It is also clear that Dan Aerbel did not have sufficient experience in the shipping business to carry out this task by himself. That, at any event, seems the best explanation for the reappearance in the story of the elusive Burham Yarisal.

In the days between Christmas and New year’s Eve 1969 the Hamburg shipbroker Uwe Moeller received yet another telephone call from Yarisal. Moeller had not heard from Yarisal since selling him the Scheersberg A in 1968. Yarisal said that he had since sold the ship, and the new owner now wanted to do the same. Yarisal asked Moeller to find a buyer, stressing that it was a matter of some urgency.

The Scheersberg A was on offer at a bargain price, almost £25,000 less than Yarisal had paid for it, and Moeller’s firm found a potential buyer very quickly indeed, a Greek ship owner named Georges Franjistas. Unfortunately, Aerbel’s preparations to sell the ship had not been thorough enough. Franjistas wanted better evidence that Aerbel was entitled to dispose of Biscayne Traders’ sole asset. On 5 January 1970, Aerbel visited the Copenhagen notary public, armed with the papers that had been signed in October and November, together with a new document that summarized what they contained. Aerbel signed the summary and Mr Peytz, the notary, added his signature and his large and impressive seal. Not even this sufficed. Aerbel had to go on to the Greek Consul in Copenhagen, who certified that Mr Peytz’s signature on the document was genuine and affixed his own seal, rather smaller than Peytz’s – impressive nonetheless.

While all this was going on Uwe Moeller took the opportunity to spend a week in Norway, tying up another deal. Late on 16 January he received a telex at the Caledonian Hotel in Kristiansand. It was from his firm and it told him to go to London at once to meet the new owner of the Scheersberg A. The command put Moeller in some difficulty. It was Friday night, he was expected home for the weekend and he was carrying very little cash. Now he would have to leave at six the next morning to fly to Copenhagen in time for a connecting flight to London. It took a lot of late night telephone calls to arrange for money and a ticket, and he arrived in London at lunchtime the next day in a rather weary state.

There was no time for recuperation. As soon as he walked inside the airport terminal he was paged and asked to go to the information desk. Dan Aerbel was waiting for him. He introduced himself to Moeller as Dan Ert and said that he needed his help in selling the Scheersberg A because it was his first ship. That afternoon the two men took an Iberia Air Lines flight direct to Bilbao, a port on the Basque coast of northeast Spain.

The Scheersberg A was already in Bilbao, having arrived two days earlier. Moeller and Aerbel checked into the Hotel Carlton and early the next morning walked down to the harbour to find she was in dry dock being surveyed for Georges Franjistas, due in Bilbao soon. There was little wrong with the ship. She had a gash on her bows which required minor repairs and a dash of paint, and she needed a new anchor chain. But Bilbao’s reputation for efficiency was not high and Moeller and Aerbel spent all of the next two days at the harbour supervising the repair work. Their only relaxation was a visit to a night club where Aerbel talked a little about himself. He said he owned a furniture shop in Rome and that he was compelled to sell the Scheersberg A because the furniture business was taking up most of his time. He said he might buy another ship, one day.

The dry dock work was completed by 30 January. Georges Franjistas arrived and went on board. He looked the ship over, found everything in order and then instructed the First national City Bank in Hamburg to pay Biscayne Traders the purchase price of $235,000. He transferred the Scheersberg A from Liberian to Greek registry and renamed her Haroula, after one of his daughters. The Haroula hoisted the Greek flag and sailed from Bilbao on 27 January.

There remained one last Plumbat clue to dispose of: Biscayne Traders Shipping Corporation. Aerbel could simply have ignored the problem. Under Liberian law any company whose fees and taxes are unpaid for two years is automatically dissolved. That, however, was not Aerbel’s style. A meticulous man, he felt it necessary that the company be closed down with all due formality.

Aerbel was still seeing a lot of Torben Hviid. From time to time more official signatures were required in the large book that served as the register of ‘Love In.’ Three times in the summer of 1970, on 9 June, 14 July and 25 August, Aerbel signed the register as the club secretary. So, when it come to closing down Biscayne Traders it was natural for Aerbel to turn to Hviid again. He asked his friend if he knew a lawyer who could help with the formalities. Hviid recommended Kaj Lund, a lawyer who worked from a very respectable book-lined office close to Copenhagen’s Royal Palace.

Lund had helped to set up several of Hviid’s enterprises, including ‘Love In.’ But he had no idea how to close down a Liberian company and Aerbel had to enlist the assistance of the Liberian Services office in Zurich. On 17 November Liberian Services sent Lund a letter which began: ‘Mr Dan Ert, President of Biscayne Traders Shipping Corporation has asked us to write to you…’ The letter detailed the procedures Lund should follow. They covered almost two pages. Liberian companies are a great deal harder to dissolve than to set up.

In due course, on 8 January 1971, a ‘special meeting of the board of directors’ of Biscayne Traders was held. The minutes solemnly record that three people were present: Aerbel who took the chair, Lund who acted as secretary, and Hviid, now promoted to company treasurer. The minutes continue: ‘It was decided by all present at the meeting that Biscayne Traders Shipping Corporation should be dissolved.’ They particularly noted that as ‘holder of all shares of the corporation’ Aerbel gave his consent.

There was still some way to go. The next step was to draw up a Certificate of Dissolution. On 18 May lawyer Lund escorted Aerbel and Hviid to the office of the Copenhagen notary public to witness their signature. The notary checked Aerbel’s passport – the one he carried in the name of Dan Ert – and signed the dissolution document himself. Lund sent it to Liberian Services who promptly sent it back, telling him he must authenticate the signature of the notary. Lund went to herald Nissen, Liberian Consul General to Denmark, who duly certified that the notary’s signature was genuine. Lund sent the papers back to Liberian Services. Finally, on 24 September 1971, one J. Rudolph Grimes, Secretary of State for the Republic of Liberia, added his signature to the Certificate of Dissolution. Biscayne Traders Shipping Corporation had ceased to be.

So, too, had ‘Love In’. The Copenhagen police had visited the club several times, as had the Danish tax inspectors. Hviid decided to close the club and he called on Aerbel to sign the final entry in the official register. The move was too late to save Hviid from prosecution. He eventually appeared in the Copenhagen city court to face a spectacular range of charges: pimping, procuring and evading sales tax. He was cleared on the first two counts but convicted on the third and fined £3,300.

At the end of 1971 Dan Aerbel left Europe and went home to Israel.

Now that it no longer mattered, Mossad told him something of the role the Scheersberg A had played in the Plumbat and Cherbourg operations. It did not tell him everything – just enough, as is customary, to persuade him that his work had been important and appreciated. Such encouragement, naturally, made him want to continue working for Mossad.

Mossad’s gratitude seemed well-placed. Aerbel had followed his instructions to the letter in disposing of both the ship and Biscayne Traders. The irony was that he had done his job too well. Aerbel would have done better to allow the company simply to fade away, for in following the cumbersome rigmarole of dissolution he scattered clues to the truth about Plumbat.

That would not have mattered if Mossad had continued to employ Aerbel on similar assignments. But two years later Mossad sent him on a mission that was totally beyond his capabilities. The consequences for Aerbel and Mossad were disastrous.

Chapter 14

The Salesman Was a Spy