And with that, he walked casually to the driver’s side, climbed in and a second later the passenger door opened to touch the wall. Stratton closed the gate door behind him, moved quickly to the car and climbed in. He closed the door quietly as Morgan started the engine and, without turning his lights on, moved up the road. Stratton kept down and out of sight as Morgan turned on to the main road and headed away from the hotel. He turned his lights on as he accelerated up the hill and into a street, then quickly turned into another, all the time keeping a watchful eye on his rear-view mirror. A minute later they were on a major artery and mingling with the light traffic.
‘You’re okay, mate,’ Morgan said. ‘No one’s backing us.’
Stratton sat up and reclined the chair a little just to be on the safe side. He took a look at Morgan who was wearing one of his familiar broad smiles.
‘’Allo, me old mate. How are you?’ he said.
Stratton smiled, enjoying the surprising company. There was definitely something about being with your own kind, he thought.‘Let me guess.They called you in to work against Al Qaeda.’
‘Did you put a word in for me?’
‘I wouldn’t do that to a friend,’ Stratton said, somewhat seriously.
Morgan’s smile dropped off a little as he glanced at him.
‘It’s good to see you, though,’ Stratton added.‘How long you been out here?’
‘I’m supposed to do a six-week course but they needed me out here right away. I got the call the day after you left. They said they’ll pull me back in for the course when I’m burnt. D’you know a bloke called Sumners?’
‘Yeah, I know Sumners.’
‘Seems like a good bloke.’
Stratton kept his eyes on the road ahead and gave nothing away. He used to think the same about Sumners in the early days.
‘What’s your job?’ Stratton asked.
‘Go between. Handling intelligence from field agents. Quite interesting really. Got four fuckin’ apartments and four cars. One in Ramallah, Jenin, Gaza and Jerusalem.’
‘How’s your Arabic?’
‘Comin’ along. Trick is to keep a low profile. I reckon you can last a couple months before getting burnt. Israelis have people everywhere. No one knows where I’m from when they see me. They know I ain’t local when they ’ear my fuckin’ gash Arabic,’ he said, ending with his famous guffaw.
Morgan checked the rear-view again. There were several headlights but it was impossible to tell if they were being followed.
‘Don’t know ’ow good these Israelis are at surveillance, ’ he said. ‘I expect they’re all right though. Been doin’ it long enough . . . We’ll be out of the city in about ten minutes, then a couple of long stretches of road with hardly any traffic this time of night. We’ll know if we’re being backed. Couple a places we can lose ’em if we think we are. Can you say what you’re doing?’
‘Looking for a bloke. A big Russian. Former Spetsnaz. Possible connections with Al Qaeda.’
Morgan wouldn’t know anything about the operation but there was always a slim chance he’d run into a big Russian. He obviously had not or he would have said something.
They drove in silence for a while until they had cleared the checkpoint on the outskirts of the city and headed out into the black desert.There was always a point in a conversation between operatives on different tasks, even when they are friends, when shop talk ceased. Then it was idle chit chat about the lads in the Service and things back home. The road to Ramallah was long and straight and although there were a couple of headlights behind, they were in the far distance. By the time they turned on to the Ramallah circular that led to the DCO checkpoint, they were alone.
The checkpoint was uneventful and after a brief stop to inspect their press passes, the soldiers let them through with only a cursory search of the vehicle.
As they headed into Ramallah it showed all the signs of a town that had endured a major conflict of conventional war proportions. Many buildings had been turned into rubble, the roads and pavements were chewed up by tank-tracks and there were a number of cars flattened where they were parked. On one street corner the locals had created a bizarre sculpture out of a dozen cars flattened by tanks, placed neatly on top of one another and painted white. Few houses had electricity and there was little sign of life this late at night. Some roads were blocked, either by locals trying to screw with the Israeli patrols, or the Israelis screwing with the locals. There was no road discipline for cars and if there was a clear route, no matter what side of the road, even against oncoming traffic, it was taken.
Near the centre of the town, Morgan pulled over to the kerb and turned off the lights and engine.
‘The main square is just down there,’ he said, indicating straight ahead.‘There’s a small roundabout with four lions pointing outwards.Your man will be near the one on the right and closest to you as you approach.’
‘The lion with the wristwatch.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Do you know who I’m meeting?’ Stratton asked.
‘All I know is he’s Jihad or Al Qaeda and works for us. Sumners said it was a real coup to get this bloke but if you ask me I think it’s a bit dodgy.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘You don’t work for Al Qaeda unless you’re real committed, do you? Know what I mean? They fuckin’ ’ate us. Enough to top ’emselves. So why does one of ’em suddenly want to work for us?’
‘Money?’
‘They ain’t into that. My point is they totally ’ate us. We represent everything that goes against what they believe in. They ’ate the Jews and they say the Jews own America and so they ’ate America. You know what this lot believe around ’ere? They believe the nine-eleven attack was planned and carried out by the Israelis and CIA. I ’eard that from the mouth of the president of a university in Gaza. If someone as intelligent as him believes that, then what do the thousands of ’is students believe? Na, I’d watch me back, mate. I mean, you obviously know what you want ’im for, but just watch your back, that’s all.’
Stratton wanted to say he wished he did know what this guy was about. It was obviously something to do with Zhilev the Russian but the connection was eluding him thus far. Sumners’ boss never said anything because he was protecting his source in case the meeting didn’t happen. That was fair enough. It’s one thing that operatives know there’s a tout within Al Qaeda working for MI6. If it got out what his connection was, it would provide a clue to who he was.They were giving the terrorist to Stratton because this operation was big, but if it fell through, if Stratton could not meet him, then the spy was still protected.
‘He won’t be there before first light,’ Morgan said. ‘If you wanna get your head down for a bit I’ll stay on watch.’
That wasn’t a bad idea, Stratton thought. He felt more tired than he should have, and in this game you took your sleep when you could. ‘Maybe I will,’ he said, reclining his seat fully and closing his eyes. ‘It’s been a long day.’ And a new day was coming, he thought, and no doubt one full of surprises.The most frustrating thing about the assignment was he had no idea what his next move was going to be. He couldn’t imagine how a member of Al Qaeda would be any help and made an effort to clear his head of thoughts so he could rest for a while. He did not expect to get any real sleep but a long rest, thinking of nothing, was almost as good.
Stratton quickly drifted off, and what seemed to be only minutes later he felt a nudge in his side, but for some reason he could not respond as if he was confused about its origin. It came again, this time stronger and he fought to find himself and take control of his limbs and pull himself together. He opened his eyes and light streamed into them, and for a couple of seconds he did not know where he was. Then it came rushing back like a freight train.