‘What can we do for you, Inspector?’ Richter asked.
Hussein smiled. ‘It’s more what I can do for you, Mr Richter. I’m pleased to say that no action will be taken over what happened at Nad Al-Sheba, so you’re free to leave whenever you want, with the grateful thanks of our government.’
‘Thank you,’ Richter said as he escorted Hussein back towards the main doors. ‘And thanks for coming here to tell us. I’m going to be staying for a few days longer. We’re planning on doing some sightseeing, and perhaps a little shopping.’
‘Unfortunately you’ve missed the annual Shopping Festival, but I’m sure you can still find some bargains.’
‘I’m sure I can,’ Jackson said with a smile.
As they watched the Arab police officer walk over to his car, a man’s face peered out at them from the rear seat. Richter recognized Grant Hutchings, and there was another shadowy figure behind him. Hutchings nodded briefly in his direction.
Jackson opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment Richter’s mobile rang.
‘You’re off the hook, Richter. Any time now someone will tell you you’re free to go.’
‘He’s just left,’ Richter said instantly, recognizing Simpson’s waspish tones.
‘Good. What time’s the next flight to Heathrow?’
‘As far as I’m concerned, some time on Saturday afternoon.’
There was a short pause as Simpson digested this. ‘Are you asking for a holiday?’
‘Yes,’ Richter said. ‘In fact, I’m telling you now that I’m taking the rest of the week off.’
‘Right, I’ll tell admin to knock it off your annual leave entitlement. No, hang on a minute. You did a pretty good job out there. I’ll put you down for liaison and debriefing for the rest of the week.’
‘Thanks a lot.’
‘We’ll pick up the tab for the hotel and any meals until Saturday, but the drinks will be down to you. Fair enough?’
Simpson’s sudden generosity was somewhat unexpected, but Richter was grateful. ‘Yes, thanks.’
Like the iconic Burj Al-Arab, the Jumeirah Beach Hotel has become something of a symbol of Dubai. Designed to mirror the shape of a breaking wave, it’s built on the coast next to the Wild Wadi Water Park, some thirty kilometres outside the city.
When the vehicles stopped, Dawson saw two other police cars already there. Hussein noticed his glance. ‘I selected eight experienced English-speaking officers to train with this equipment.’
In the hotel itself, Richard Wilson — in the persona of CIA Agent Andy Franks — began his briefing to the assembled men. He opened one of the custom-designed carrying cases and extracted the unit. The officers stared at it with interest as Wilson described its operation.
‘Because of the environment in here’ — he gestured at the spacious foyer — ‘and in most very modern buildings, you’ll normally do atmospheric sampling.’
He reached into his pocket, extracted a small plastic bottle containing a grey lump and passed it to Dawson, then stepped back a few feet.
‘That’s a very small piece of Semtex,’ Wilson explained. ‘If you could open the bottle for a few seconds, then close it again, I can demonstrate just how sensitive this unit is.’
‘How long does it take to register?’ Hussein asked.
‘About thirty seconds after activation,’ Wilson replied. ‘You saw my colleague open the bottle. That will have released a few microscopic particles of explosive and some vapour into the air, which is in constant motion because of the air-conditioning system. Most detectors aren’t sensitive enough to work in those circumstances, but this unit definitely is.’ He held up the E-3500; its digital display showed a positive result.
Wilson then fielded some questions about technique before Hussein glanced at his watch. ‘We should move on to the Burj,’ he said. ‘The manager’s expecting us.’
Five minutes later the police cars stopped outside easily the most recognizable hotel in the world.
Richter was sitting in the lobby studying a tourist map of Dubai. Carole-Anne Jackson was pointing out areas worthy of a visit, when she suddenly broke off.
‘I know what I meant to ask you, Paul. When Hussein dropped by, there were two men in the back of his police car, and one of them seemed to know you. Who was he?’
‘Oh, him,’ Richter snorted. ‘I met him just once, when we went to interview Holden. He pitched up with Hussein after we reported the murder. He’s from your Company.’
‘He’s an Agency man?’
‘Yes. His name’s Grant Hutchings, and the other man was Roger Middleton. Hutchings and I had a bit of an exchange. I didn’t like his attitude, and he didn’t seem too keen on me either.’
‘No,’ Jackson said emphatically.
‘What do you mean, “no”?’ Richter demanded.
‘I mean that wasn’t Grant Hutchings.’
‘What?’
‘Which bit of that sentence didn’t you understand, Paul? I said the man in that car wasn’t Grant Hutchings.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. I slept with him, for God’s sake… though it was a long time ago,’ she added defensively.
‘The CIA’s a big organization. Maybe you have two agents with the same name?’
‘I seriously doubt it. If he’s out here, that means he’s in the Operations Directorate, like me, which cuts down on the numbers.’
Richter was suddenly aware of an overwhelming feeling of unease. ‘Why would somebody want to impersonate a CIA officer in Dubai?’
‘I have no clue,’ Jackson said, ‘but I think we need to look into this. Do you have Hussein’s telephone number?’
Richter shook his head. ‘No, but Watkinson does. I’ll give him a call.’ He rang the British Embassy.
‘Ask him to find out what the CIA agents are doing,’ Jackson hissed, as he waited to be connected. ‘Don’t tell him I think Hutchings is an impostor, just in case I am wrong. I don’t want to look like a total klutz.’
‘Right,’ Richter said. ‘Morning, Michael. Paul Richter. I’m just calling to let you know we’ve been given permission to leave Dubai… I’ve also got a question for you. When we went over to Holden’s apartment, we met a couple of Agency guys with Hussein. Have you any idea what they’re doing over here?’
‘Why?’
‘Just idle curiosity. They’re a long way from home.’
‘They were sent out in response to Holden’s claim about a bomb being placed in a waterfront hotel. According to Hussein, they’ve brought out explosive detectors to help the Dubai authorities. But now we know that threat was just a diversion, I presume they’ll be heading home.’
‘Could you call Hussein and ask him something? I kind of got off on the wrong foot with Hutchings, so if these guys are still around I’d like to meet somewhere and make amends.’
‘I’ll call him right now.’
Richter turned to Carole-Anne Jackson. ‘Apparently they came out here to help locate the hotel bomb Holden predicted, and he thinks they’ll soon be heading back to the States.’
Jackson shrugged, looking uncertain. ‘Maybe I was mistaken,’ she said thoughtfully. Then, more confidently, ‘No, I wasn’t. That man definitely wasn’t the Grant Hutchings I once knew.’
‘Give me a moment. I’ll call John Westwood.’
‘You know him?’
‘Yes,’ Richter said. ‘You haven’t slept with him as well?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘I haven’t slept with everyone in the CIA, and as far as I know John Westwood is a happily married man. I’ve worked for him in the past, is all. And,’ she added, ‘you do know it’s the middle of the night over there?’