Gabriel nodded and walked back to where his seat was and picked up his bag. Stratton collected his and stopped in front of the mayor. ‘Can we contribute to the evening?’ Stratton said, reaching for his wallet.
‘No,’ the mayor said. ‘You are our guests. Besides, you’ll pay through the nose for the apartment since it’s the only one available tonight.’ He grinned.
Stratton got the picture. ‘Thanks anyway,’ he said, and walked off after the mayor’s wife and Gabriel who were waiting for him.
‘This is probably the only place open for breakfast tomorrow so we’ll see you then,’ the mayor called out.
They walked away and the mayor’s smile faded as he was joined by the lawyer, both watching the strangers go.
‘What do you think?’ the lawyer asked.
‘I don’t think the old man is a university professor, and neither is the Englishman his assistant.’
‘I agree,’ said the lawyer. ‘But I don’t think they’re here looking to claim a house either.’ He glanced at the mayor for his consensus.
‘So what are we worried about then?’ the mayor said, grinning. ‘Let’s finish off the wine.’
That was an attractive offer and they returned to the table.
Stratton and Gabriel followed the mayor’s wife around the bend of the quay then up a narrow, dark, cobbled side street, past a tethered goat and along another street that headed steeply uphill.
She paused at a corner, indicated a three-storey house opposite, handed Stratton a large old key and remained where she was, smiling, and waiting for acknowledgement. It was clear she did not intend to go any further, obviously uncomfortable about going into the house with two strange men.
Stratton nodded thanks and crossed the alley; it could not be called a road since no car could pass along it.
The two men faced the front door which would have been in complete darkness had it not been for a light in the house opposite. It looked centuries old with ornate carvings around its edges and a lion’s face in the centre. Stratton looked back to find the mayor’s wife had gone and then glanced at Gabriel.
‘This okay for you?’ Stratton asked.
‘As long as it has a comfortable bed, I don’t care.’
Stratton put the key in the lock, turned it with a heavy clunk, pushed open the door and stepped inside. He felt around for a switch without luck, took a small button torch from a pocket and shone it around the hallway. There was a switch on the wall opposite, at the foot of the stairs, and he walked over to it and flicked it down. A bulb came to life above and Gabriel walked in and closed the door behind him. There did not appear to be much downstairs other than a cellar and so Stratton mounted the steps. The place looked as old as the door, the plaster in many places fallen away to expose stonework.
At the top of the stairs, across the landing, was a door. Stratton opened it and turned on the light to reveal a contrastingly clean and freshly decorated room, sparsely furnished with a bed and wardrobe, and net curtains framing a pair of French windows.
‘Not bad,’ Stratton said.
‘I was beginning to wonder,’ Gabriel said. He walked along the landing that doubled back on the stairs to another door, pushed it open and flicked the switch on the wall but it did not work.
‘You need a flashlight?’ Stratton asked, remaining in the doorway of his room.
‘I can see a table lamp,’ Gabriel said as he entered the room. A second later a dim light came on inside.
Stratton walked into his room, put his bag on the bed, and went to the French windows which had a small balcony beyond. He parted the net curtains to look at the view, which was quite stunning. Silver moonlight illuminated one side of the black mountain and silhouetted the edge of the town, a part that had long since been abandoned. Beyond was the Turkish mainland where tiny lights flickered, outlining the coastline.
There was a thump from the next room, not a very loud one, but at night in a strange house in a foreign land with unknown people, it was enough to warrant an inquiry.
Stratton went back to his door and looked up the landing. Gabriel’s door was still open with the light on inside.
He walked along the landing and looked inside the room. It was larger than his, not as cleanly decorated, with plaster coming away in places around the edges of the ceiling, but the large, comfortable bed nevertheless made it inviting. Gabriel was standing with his back to Stratton, his bag on the floor beside him, no doubt the source of the thump.
‘Gabriel?’ Stratton said quietly, wondering why he was standing so still.
Gabriel did not reply.
‘Gabriel?’ Stratton repeated as he took a step closer to the old man.
‘This is the room,’ Gabriel said, almost in a whisper.
Stratton took another pass around the room, checking to see if there was something obvious he had missed. ‘What room?’
‘I didn’t tell you because there was no point at the time, but he was in a room in the derelict town . . . It was this one.’
Stratton walked across the room, scrutinising every inch of it.
A wedge of light from the top of the lampshade washed the cracked plaster wall above the bed, highlighting what appeared to be several lines of Greek writing in large letters across it. His eyes were drawn to the meaningless letters which suddenly reminded him of something. ‘Remember the letters you wrote on my notepad, at the garage, on the way to Thetford?’
Gabriel looked at the wall. ‘This is Greek,’ he said. ‘What I wrote was in Russian according to your people.’
The word Russian got Stratton’s attention. ‘What did it mean?’
‘Nothing. Random letters, like a serial registration. ’
Stratton could sense some kind of connection or emerging pattern but he could not quite see it.
‘He did not like being here and was anxious to leave, but he was forcing himself to be patient. He was suspicious of the locals, I feel . . . Do you think he’s the Russian they talked about?’
Stratton didn’t answer. He walked to the doorway and paused to look back at Gabriel. ‘I’ll talk to you later . . . If you think of anything else, come and tell me. Don’t worry about waking me, okay?’
Gabriel nodded without looking at him. ‘He was still very afraid of what he was planning to do, but also determined to do it . . .That was many days ago, Stratton. I think we will be too late.’
Stratton stared at him a moment then walked away.
His footsteps echoed down the wooden stairs and a second later the front door banged closed. Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed and looked at a worn Persian rug on the floor, then at his hands.They were trembling.
As Stratton made his way down the street back towards the harbour he pulled his satellite phone from his pocket and scrolled through the numbers until he found the one he was looking for, pushed the call button and held it to his ear.
‘Sumners? This is Stratton.’
Sumners was reading a newspaper on the sofa by lamplight in the small living room of his terraced house in Hampstead. As the satellite phone on the desk beside the sofa chirped and Sumners reached for it, his wife automatically got up out of the armchair to turn down the television and then without a word left the room to go into the tiny kitchen to make a pot of tea.
‘Yes, Stratton,’ he said, still reading the article.
‘I think I have something. Not sure. Probably nothing, ’ Stratton said.
Sumners lost focus on the paper. He might have been irritated with most of his other agents for ringing with a comment like that, but Stratton would never call unless there was an underlying importance to his empty introduction.
‘Nothing?’ Sumners asked anyway.
‘It’s vague enough as it is, but since this isn’t mauve you’ll have to bear with me.’ Stratton was referring to the mauve secure phone system. The system did not work on wireless systems such as mobile and sat. phones. That required an altogether different scrambling encryption, which was difficult to implement on an international grid.
