I put the laptop in the safe alongside the other material, turned the Bulgarian phone on, re-glued the fabric and went out the door fast.
The bellhop, the young guy behind the reception desk and the woman at the switchboard watched as I exited the elevator. I slid the room key along the desk and called to the phone operator, loud enough for them all to hear. ‘I’m going to the airport. Any calls, I’ll be back at five thirty.’
I knew that if Cumali was going to have my room turned over, the first thing she would do was try to discover my movements. Hopefully, I had just saved her and the scum-boys some trouble.
As I ran for my car I figured that, by the time I returned, they would have entered the loading dock at the rear, gone up the service elevator, picked the lock on my door and – to make it look like a plain vanilla hotel robbery – my room would be in chaos.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Chapter Fifteen
I GOT TO the airport just in time: two minutes after I arrived, Bradley walked out of the customs zone.
I guided him past the men with massive urns on their backs selling apple tea, endless crowds of hustlers and beggars and an attractive Slavic couple who were almost certainly pickpockets and out towards the parking lot.
On the street, the wind was coming straight out of Asia, delivering a host of exotic scents, and loudspeakers were broadcasting a muezzin, telling Muslims that it was time for prayer. I saw Bradley looking at the chaotic traffic, the distant pine-clad hills, the minarets of a nearby mosque, and I knew it was setting him back on his heels.
‘We’re close to the borders of Iraq and Syria,’ I said. ‘A bit different from Paris, huh?’
He nodded.
‘People in my line of work get used to alien places,’ I continued, ‘but you never get used to the loneliness. It’s good to see you.’
‘You too,’ he replied. ‘You gonna tell me why we’re here?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘but I’ll tell you as much as necessary.’
We had arrived at the Fiat and, while I performed the usual deadly dance with the Turkish traffic, I asked Bradley to remove the batteries from both our cellphones. By the time I had explained why, we were on the freeway.
‘We – that means the US government – are hunting a man,’ I explained. ‘We’ve been hunting him for weeks—’
‘The guy everyone’s talking about?’ he asked. ‘The one with the nuclear trigger?’
‘There is no guy with a nuclear trigger,’ I replied. ‘That was a cover story.’
I saw the surprise on Bradley’s face, and I knew what he was thinking – he had seen the president talking about it numerous times on TV. I didn’t have time to explain the reason for that, and I kept going.
‘A couple of days ago we thought we had him nailed, but we were wrong. We don’t have a name, a nationality or his whereabouts. The only link we have is his sister—’
‘Leyla Cumali,’ he said, his eyes flashing in a moment of realization.
‘Yes. In the last twelve hours she has been told that I am not here investigating a murder – that I am a CIA agent.’
‘Are you?’
‘No, I’m far beyond that. When we get to Bodrum, I believe we’ll find she has organized to have my hotel room robbed. The thieves will have taken a number of items, including my laptop.
‘It has several security features, but she will be able to access it without much trouble. Inside are two emails that she will find significant. The first will tell her that we intercepted coded phone calls between her and a man in the Hindu Kush—’
‘The where?’ Bradley asked.
‘Afghanistan. She will read that we don’t know the content of those calls – because they were in code – but given that she was born in Saudi Arabia, her father was publicly executed and her phone friend has been involved in the abduction of three missing foreigners, we think that she is part of a terrorist undertaking.’
‘Is she?’
‘I don’t believe so, but the document gives details of her impending rendition to Bright Light.’
‘What’s Bright Light?’
‘She’ll search the Web and find a number of newspaper articles which claim that it’s in Thailand, part of a system of CIA secret prisons.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes.’
‘What happens at Bright Light?’
‘People are tortured.’
‘Our country does that to women?’
‘Our country does that to anybody.’
Ben had only been in-country for thirty minutes but already he was getting quite an education. I let him sit in sombre silence for a moment as I overtook a convoy of Turkish military heading to the Syrian border.