A bellhop stepped through a pair of modern heavy glass doors set behind what appeared to be the original oak doors and opened the rear passenger door where Stratton and Gabriel sat together.
‘This is where the East meets the West,’ Raz said.
Stratton glanced inside the lobby at its highly polished stone floors covered in rich Persian carpets and bedecked in a tasteful collection of Eastern and antique European furniture. It looked very chic and very expensive.
‘You will be comfortable here,’ Raz said. ‘It’s more popular among Europeans and Americans than other hotels. Just be careful what you say or where you say it. Nearly everyone here is either a spy or a member of the media. It’s Palestinian and one of the best hotels in the city . . . and the most expensive. I know how cheap your English bosses are,’ he smiled. ‘You can tell them you had no choice since I would not take you anywhere else.’
Stratton wondered if there was a meaning behind the gesture, and why he had not taken them to an Israeli hotel.
Gabriel climbed out of the car with his bag and Raz watched him walk into the hotel. His eyes then fell on Stratton.
‘Your friend. Is he okay? He doesn’t look well.’
‘He just needs some rest.’
‘If he needs a doctor, let me know. I don’t want anything happening to my guests.’
As Stratton opened his door, Raz stopped him. ‘I’m going back to my office,’ he said. ‘When would you like to give your brief?’
Stratton paused, trying to decide how best to stall him. Of course they would expect a brief but no one said anything about it to Stratton on the aircraft. Sumners would have prepared one. He probably deliberately omitted to mention it after Stratton cut him off. He wondered what else the petulant bastard had forgotten to give him.
‘Can I get back to you tomorrow on that? Just between us, we’re a little ahead of ourselves. I need to catch up on the paperwork.’
Raz smiled insincerely, his suspicions increasing that these people were playing some kind of game with him. He was not concerned though. He was used to it. The CIA were always coming into town on their fact-finding tours and then secretly, or so they thought, meeting with Hamas and other terrorist groups, negotiating behind the Israelis’ backs. The Americans’ partners, the British, usually preferred more clandestine methods, disguising themselves as members of NGOs, non-governmental organisations such as the Red Cross and UN, or as human rights observers. But they were on Raz’s turf and therefore vulnerable. Raz had his own extensive spy network that included the NGOs, hotels, media organisations such as the BBC and CNN, and, of course, the various Palestinian terrorist organisations. He thought about inviting Stratton to dinner as was customary when a fellow intelligence operative came to town, but decided against it. He could detect a level of tension in the two men, which suggested their concerns were more immediate than long term. It would be prudent to give them as much room as they wanted and set up a surveillance team right away.
‘Fine,’ Raz said. ‘Why don’t you get settled and I’ll come by in the morning.’
‘Sounds good,’ Stratton said, and climbed out of the car.
Raz and his driver watched Stratton walk into the hotel. The two men shared a look, then, on Raz’s nod, the driver pulled away and they left the grounds.
Darkness fell around 7 p.m. and three hours later Stratton was in his sumptuous ground-floor room in an annexe building situated the other side of a large garden from the main hotel. On the coffee table was a tourist map showing the main roads across Israel and the West Bank, and on the reverse side a gaily illustrated guide to the old city. He had spent the past few hours considering how he was going to get into Ramallah and then back to the hotel by the morning. Getting there and back was not the problem. Taxis were in ample supply in the city, and from what he could gather from talking to the receptionists, disguising his intent with dozens of questions about all aspects of travel in the West Bank and Gaza, there was also no difficulty in finding one in those places either. His problem was getting out of the hotel without being seen. He had found at least one reason why Raz had chosen this place. It was surrounded by a high wall on all sides that backed on to well-lit streets, private gardens and a school that was in itself surrounded by a high-fenced wall. Basically, it would need only a small surveillance team to watch all possible exits and there was little doubt Raz would have that covered. It was beginning to look as if it might require something radical to get out of the area. That category included ruses such as calling in the emergency services, the fire department or bomb disposal, or anything that brought a lot of activity with it and required people to leave the hotel grounds. Stratton would rather avoid going that far but his choices were beginning to look limited.
As he sat on the bed studying the map, the patio light outside the French windows went out, plunging the immediate area into darkness. There were lights across the other side of the garden but none strong enough to illuminate Stratton’s garden entrance.The light switch was inside the room on the wall near the door, which meant the bulb must have gone. Stratton remained still, his eyes fixed on the small gap in the curtains, when something moved across the window.
There were a couple of light taps on the glass and he got up and moved to the side, away from the gap in the curtains.
The tap came again.
Stratton looked at the door handle, the key in the lock beside it. Someone obviously wanted him to come to the door but did not want to be seen themselves. If they meant him any harm, all they had to do was knock at the front door as he would have been less suspicious. There was only one way to find out who it was.
Stratton walked to the front door and turned off the light inside the room. He went back to the French windows, turned the key, pushed down the handle and opened the door. He waited behind the curtain a moment but no one ventured inside. He moved to the door, opened it fully and stepped through it.
‘All right, mate?’ a voice said in a forced whisper from the darkness across the patio where there were several large bushes. ‘It’s me - Morgan.’
Stratton checked to see there was no movement in the gardens and walked towards the bushes.
‘’Ow you doin’, mate?’ Morgan said. Stratton moved to where he could see his big friend’s beaming face.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘Long story. Tell you later. I’m here to take you to Ramallah.’
Stratton was surprised to say the least and had he a few minutes to think about it, he might have been able to figure it out, but now was not the time. One thing he had no doubt about and that was Morgan was on his side.
‘I’ll grab my coat,’ Stratton said as he walked back into his room.
He met Morgan at the corner of the block, where he was scanning the ground ahead which was in darkness.
‘There’s a door in the back gate over there just behind those bushes,’ Morgan said.
‘And it’s got a huge padlock and chain on it and it opens directly on to the street,’ Stratton said.
‘I broke open the bottom of the street lamp and killed the light, one of the links on the chain is broken and simply unhooks and I’ve got a car parked tight up against the door so no one will see you climbing in,’ Morgan said matter-of-factly. ‘That good enough for you?’
‘That’ll do nicely.’
‘Good. Shall we?’
Morgan led the way to a large red gate used for bringing heavy supply trucks into the back of the hotel and unhooked the chain as he described. He carefully opened a door in the gate enough to look out on to the street.
‘All clear,’ he said. ‘I’ll go first, open your door and you can jump in,’ he whispered.