Chapter 5

Start of 1982

This wasn’t the start to the New Year I’d envisaged, and a worrying time followed as I signed on at the unemployment office. I knew I’d have a small income now, but at least my National Insurance stamp would be paid. I was determined not allow this situation to continue for long, too, so I set off to visit the contacts I had made while working for Prince Walid’s family. However, many of the Saudis only visited the UK during the summer months. Therefore, unless I was lucky, my working life would dissolve into temporary jobs for them.

The blessing from the free time I had while waiting to find a new job, though, was that I could spend it with my family. And, while playing the waiting game, I kept the Karate going.

As luck would have it within a few weeks of signing on a new job came in. My next port of call was a place I attended regularly—the Intercontinental Hotel on Park Lane, Mayfair. When I arrived, I reported to the duty manager and the hotel security. Introducing myself was important, as they’d then be aware of who I was and what I was doing there: it could save a lot of hassle at times. The hotels were never too happy having outside security staff on their property. Nonetheless, even if they didn’t like it, they appreciated being notified.

Many times, the royal family took up entire floors with their entourages and the resulting revenue was vast. The hotels would have been foolish to turn away such a profitable income for what was really rather a minor inconvenience to them. We were careful not to upset any guests and we behaved ourselves. We often had our own rooms and used the hotel facilities as well—thereby adding to their profits still further.

The office told me Princess Munira Al Faisal was due in and would be staying for some time. Martini, from the embassy, was to take care of the arrangements. He assigned one of his drivers, Sammy, to drive the princess and be Martini’s eyes and ears throughout the visit. Martini escorted Princess Munira to her suite on her arrival, and introduced me and the team to her. Two of her escorts were Egyptian sisters who lived in England. They took care of the princess’s day-to-day arrangements. Two other young women attended the princess; both of them were beautiful and had tremendous figures. They were in their early twenties and dressed in fine silk dresses. Princess Munira wasn’t such a pretty picture.

A thin Arab guy named Mohammed was the tea maker, and over the coming weeks, his tea making caused quite a few problems. Another matter that came to dismay the hotel management was the daily incense burning ritual. Both the tea making and burning of incense constantly set off the fire alarms, which in turn caused the evacuation of the other guests and the attendance of the local fire brigade.

The women loved to flirt, and we would indulge them, of course. The women always took care of us, which was cool. They made sure we were fed and watered and had a constant supply of mint tea.

When Princess Munira went out, we escorted her. When she was in her suite, we sat in the corridor outside her door, and we always accompanied any hotel staff entering the suite. Behind the suite door was a cupboard which the women had a habit of leaving open. Inside was an open briefcase, full to the brim with bundles of fifty-pound notes. We advised them several times to put the case into the hotel safe-deposit box, but they ignored us. In fact, they never even closed the lid. Some hotel staff noticed the case and we wondered how many other people now knew of its existence.

Soon after the princess’s arrival, we found ourselves in an uncomfortable position. Princess Munira would call us into her suite now and again and as we walked in she would be sitting there with her breasts on show. She did not care whether we saw her or not.

Peter, my colleague, went out of his way to entertain the women. I got on with Peter and felt comfortable with him, although years later he let me down badly. In contrast, Sammy was sly and untrustworthy. We felt we had to watch our backs with him. Sammy was dangerous to us.

When all was quiet, Peter and I sat on the floor in the corridor outside the suite and threw dice. This was a way of killing time and relaxed some of the other guests. Although we got friendly with some of them, we still kept our guard up. We expected interest, but skilfully fended off any prying questions. We also paid careful attention to what people said. If more than simple curiosity was shown, we would find out who they were, where they came from, where they were going, how long they were staying, which room or rooms they occupied and suchlike. When we switched on, we must have produced more power than a two hundred and fifty thousand volt electricity pylon.

Princess Munira loved to take the women shopping and she loved buying them colourful, expensive and figure hugging clothes. She got a buzz from watching the men eye up her women.

The younger women laughed and giggled at us, obviously finding the attention hilarious. One day Princess Munira emerged from her suite, walked down the corridor, and entered one of the younger women’s rooms. I walked along behind her and then waited outside the room. I noticed a hotel cleaner entering the princess’ suite and Peter followed her. Peter had been teasing this hotel cleaner for a couple of weeks. She was attractive, and I guessed about twenty-five years old.

Princess Munira opened the door and asked me to fetch her some cream from her suite. I wasn’t happy about this, but as her suite was only a couple of doors away, I made a dash for it. I entered the suite and got a surprise: Peter and the hotel cleaner were in a state of undress. The cupboard was open and so was the briefcase. What would have happened if Princess Munira had been the one to walk in? Maybe she would have dropped dead with shock, maybe not. I couldn’t believe Peter had been so stupid. I grabbed the cream and walked out. I returned to the other room, still stunned by what I had seen.

I knocked on the door and was called in. I put the cream down on a side table turned on my heels and walked out, listening to the princess and her aide laughing behind me. I was sure they had set me up in some way. Between Peter and them, I did not know if I was coming or going. Then, when the princess returned to her suite, I pulled Peter to one side and asked what he thought he was doing. He said it was exciting and just harmless fun. I said it would not have been fun if he’d been caught. But he said he got off on the risk: they had been flirting and it progressed to a dare. So, I realised, it was just a childish game.

That evening we were throwing the dice yet again, when one of the guests we spoke with each night returned to his room. We’d heard this guest was a Libyan arms dealer. Immediately we were on alert. Whilst appearing sociable enough to him we would make it our business to find out all that we could about him. The Saudis and the Libyans are not the best of friends. The last thing we needed was a Libyan taking out our charge. So for the moment it was in our interests to placate him. Therefore, when he asked to throw the dice with us, Peter was up for it. The game progressed to the Libyan betting Peter his maroon Rolls Royce that he could throw a higher number with two dice. Peter confessed he had nothing of value to bet. The Libyan, not perturbed by this, said he would still bet his Rolls. The Libyan threw first and Peter followed. Peter threw a higher score. The Libyan passed the keys for his Rolls Royce to Peter: he was as good as his word. Peter, however, gave back the keys, saying he couldn’t take it and that it had just been a sportsman’s bet. As a result, the Libyan kept his car and Peter made a friend. Perhaps it was a smart move on Peter’s part not to take the car, as it would not do to make an enemy out of a Libyan arms dealer. I think I would have taken the Rolls Royce!

During the game, I took the opportunity to evaluate the Libyan. He was about 6 feet tall and of medium build. His hair was greying on the sides and his moustache matched his hair. He did not wear glasses and was about 45 years old. His manners were perfect and he came across as a pleasant enough fellow. Being an arms dealer, I was sure the Libyan had another side to him, one which no doubt was much more sinister. But so long as we didn’t catch sight of it, I thought we’d be all right.

The following day Princess Munira went shopping and the clothes shops, as usual, suffered a hammering. In one of them, I stood next to the princess as her aide tried on some clothes. I accidentally caught sight of the aide as she did not close the curtain properly. I averted my eyes quickly and if Princess Munira noticed, she didn’t show it. I kept my back towards the cubicle and surveyed the surroundings. Occasionally, as we walked along the street, a comment or gesture was directed at us. I wasn’t concerned so long as the comments were not abusive, but a few times it was necessary to whisper in someone’s ear.

We then went on to Kutchinsky, the jewellers on Brompton Road, Knightsbridge. I had often visited this store and was well known there. The princess and the women examined the jewellery closely, while I checked the surroundings as well as any comings and goings. Princess Munira bought Peter and me a watch each. They were not expensive ones, or so I believed, and along the line, I gave mine away. It was a Rado watch and I didn’t much like the look of it anyway.

Back at the Intercontinental, the women set about lighting their incense burners. They fanned the smoke over themselves and then stood over the burner, fanning the smoke between their legs. The smoke detectors set off the fire alarms. The fire doors in the corridors closed automatically. Guests and staff started to evacuate the hotel and the hotel security rushed up to see from where the fire was emanating.

The duty manager arrived and what could we say? Apologies can only go so far. The fire brigade arrived and we made our apologies to them as well. When the fire alarms activated in the hotel it was a big deal, and for some reason everyone looked at us bodyguards as though it was our fault. We had warned the princess and her aides on many occasions about their incense burning, but they took no notice. They were not in the least perturbed by these events and their nonchalance annoyed me. Apart from the obvious, their carelessness disturbed many people. It would not have been so bad if it only happened once—but it happened five times overall. The hotel manager called Martini in to see him. He was told that if they did not stop causing a disturbance, the hotel would evict the princess and her entourage.

In response, the women covered the smoke detectors with towels, which the hotel cleaners in turn reported to management.

Hotel security arrived and told us to remove the towels because they breached fire regulations. We got the incense affair under control and Martini then gave an envelope of cash to the management to help smooth matters over. A few hours later, the fire alarms sounded again. This time, I knew the women were not burning incense and thanked the heavens we were not to blame. The alarms wailed and the fire doors closed. Guests and staff started to evacuate. The hotel security arrived and said, “It’s you fucking lot again!”

“Not us,” I said, “Not this time; no incense burning today.”

He took the smile off my face when it was proved Mohammed brewing the tea had set the detectors off. The management called Martini once again—and if it had not been so serious, it would have been funny. I looked to see if there was anyone filming another ‘Carry On’ movie, because what a carry on it was!

During Princess Munira’s visit, we had more problems from the hotel fire alarms than from anything else. A smile crossed my face as I thought that even though the young women’s figures had sent plenty of temperatures soaring, even they had not set off the fire alarms.

Another envelope landed on the manager’s desk and a grovelling apology followed it. If Princess Munira were to return to England, would she stay at the Intercontinental Hotel again? More to the point, would they let her? I wondered. I was sure they would remember her—I knew I would. Her apparent love of sounding off the fire alarms would linger in my mind for some time, of that I was sure. The other thing that would stay in my mind was the fact that the princess reminded me of my older brother. He is an ugly sod and so was she, but then again many of the older princesses looked rough, and this one was no exception. Not having to do anything apart from shopping all day must wear them down. Many of the younger princesses, on the contrary, took good care of themselves. Perhaps this was because they travelled more widely and were more aware of their appearance. In addition, they did like to attract attention from the men.

As we prepared to leave, I’m sure I heard a round of applause from the hotel management and security staff, and who could blame them? Martini and Bill arrived from the office. They probably thought money was going to change hands and if so, they wanted some of it. It appeared the Saudi royals robbed their people and that Martini and Bill robbed the Saudi royals in turn, I mused. I was becoming sick of money. I needed an amount to provide for my family but I would not stoop low enough to lie, cheat and steal like others did to get it. But little did I know then that a relatively small amount of money would cause such terrible problems for me and my family later on in my life, as I too would be branded with those terms, which would cut me to my core. For now though, I was just happy that the princess was on her way home, and so was I.