The Spanish Hotel Page 26

  “Oh, we’re not staying here.”

  “How did you get in then? I thought they had battened down the hatches on this place.”

  “We’re British detectives.”

  “I see. You best ask management about the Salamander then.”

  “Thanks, we will.”

  “I don’t think we need to ask management,” stated Collins once the barmaid was gone. “She’s a clever bitch isn’t she?”

  “I doubt if she would be working here if she was.”

  “Not the barmaid you idiot. Nuaimi.”

  More talking in riddles, thought Harrington. “Explain.”

  “Somehow she must have had access to Phillips’ hotel booking, even though she only does embassy liaison work for the Foreign Office. She must have also known about the Salamander.”

  “And the fact that he would frequent the place.”

  “He wouldn’t have stayed here if it wasn’t for the Salamander.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “Come on Chas, as a VIP you would have expected him to have an executive suite at that Intercontinental pad.”

  “Mmm. Like you say, she was clever. She must have known exactly how to hook him. You’ve got some froth on your tash sir.”

  Collins wiped the back of his arm over his top lip. “What was her motive though?”

  “It’ll come out in time.”

  “I doubt it. If I didn’t think this had hit the end of the line, I wouldn’t be sitting here drinking beer. I would be on the phone to Elliot. I would be making a nuisance of myself back inside the hotel.”

  “If they catch Nuaimi, we’ll find out the motive.”

  “Our Aisha left this place in the early hours. The airport is less than an hour away. She knew the Do Not Disturb sign would give her time to get out of the country.”

  “She might not have landed yet.”

  “She’s clever. She will have made sure she landed before midday. If you say a four-hour flight, it opens up a lot of the world. Though my money would be on somewhere in the Middle East. Ah, speaking of which, here comes Abdula.”

  “Is the beer as good as it is back home?”

  “Not bad. What do you have for us?”

  “A woman by the name of Aisha Al Nuaimi crossed into Oman this morning.”

  “What time?”

  “It is registered on the computer as nine-twelve. Though crossing into Oman takes quite some time.”

  “So tell me, how do you get from Oman from here?”

  “It is not far. She crossed at the Mezyad border, which is about one-seventy kilometres from here. The nearest city is Al Ain. A taxi driver from Afghanistan is registered as crossing two minutes before she did.”

  “Taxis just drive across the border, do they?”

  “Al Ain, or Buraimi as the Omani people call it, is a border town. People live on one side and work on the other. Taxis cross it all the time. It was not long ago that we made a fence. Before then you could walk across as you pleased.”

  Collins took another mouthful of beer. “So what next? Do I buy you a beer or do we come to your police station?”

  “I do not drink alcohol. This is a matter for the United Arab Emirates and our neighbours now. You need not concern yourself with it anymore.”

  “I thought so much. Well, thank you for keeping us informed.” Collins held out his hand.

  Abdul shook it, and then shook Harrington’s. “Have a safe journey home.”

  They watched Abdula walk back into the hotel.

  “Well, I don’t know about you Chas, but I might have a few more beers. See if you can’t catch her eye.” He tilted back his head and drained his glass.

  “What’s happening guv?”

  “We’re being spooked again.”

  “Ah, excuse me,” shouted Harrington. “Same again please.” He lifted his glass a few inches off the table.

  “Her Majesty’s government won’t want Phillips’ exploits exposed in public. The media would have a field day and then the serious reporters would start digging deeper. My bet is they would uncover layers and layers of corruption and scandal.”

  Collins continued explaining his thoughts. “The sheikhs here won’t want this place to hit the headlines either. Can you imagine it, a country that locks British people up for sex on the beach having this place splashed across the front pages all round the world.”

  “Lots of people must know about it though.”

  “Lots of people knew politicians were over claiming on their expenses, their problems only came when such matters hit the headlines.”

  “Do you really think this is the end of the line for us?”

  “I do. Hopefully they won’t be able to get us on a flight home until tomorrow. I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of this place. A magazine in the hotel room said the creek was worth seeing at night.”

  “I’ll drink to that. And here it comes.”

  As the barmaid was putting down their drinks, Collins’ mobile beeped and vibrated in his pocket. He retrieved it and looked at the message.

  Sir. I have booked a hotel in Brighton for the weekend after next. I hope you can make it. Love and Lust. wpc Armstrong xxx

  Collins blushed. “Oh dear, what is this job doing to me?” he muttered.

  Chapter 17

  Aisha was sitting having her lunch overlooking a coconut grove when she turned to page five of the Times. She regularly ate in the restaurant at Salalah’s Crowne Plaza hotel and always took the opportunity to buy English papers while she was there. Page five had exactly what she was looking for. As expected, it reported a pack of lies, claiming Phillips died from a heart attack while conducting business on behalf of her majesty’s government.

  It was time to phone her chauffer; she needed to get home and strike while the iron was hot. She picked up her mobile and called Nabeel’s driver. He was sitting in the Mercedes parked up in the hotel car park. The engine was running to keep the air conditioning working.

  As soon as she was at the large villa she went up to her study and turned on her laptop. She started by sending an email with the five most revealing photos of Phillips on his deathbed attached to an English tabloid newspaper. Aisha made it clear that she did not want any remuneration for them and the email account she had set up back in England could only be traced back to a computer at the foreign office.

  The next day Aisha sent the other five photographs she had to another tabloid newspaper. Her hope was to start a circulation war between the two newspapers. She smiled as thoughts of investigative journalists trying to dig up the juiciest dirt on Phillips filled her head. They were sure to find plenty.

  With the first job of the day done, she uploaded all ten photos to the website she had created in Douglas Phillips’ memory with an Indian internet service provider. She knew it would soon be top of the hit least once people started to Google ‘Douglas Phillips MP.’

  Below the photographs she entered the text: I did it for you mum.

  After shutting the laptop down, she closed the lid on it for the last time. At the bottom of the stairs she was intercepted by the maid.

  “Can I make you a pot of tea ma’am?”

  “Not until you have done something else for me. Take this computer, hide it amongst the kitchen rubbish, and take it out to the bin. Make sure it is well hidden, I do not want any of the bin scroungers to find it. The lorry comes within the next hour I believe.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Get to it then, stop standing there gawping at me.”

  “But ma’am…”

  “Don’t argue with me Belen. And if you don’t do as I say, you will be on a plane back to the Philippines tomorrow morning.”

  “I do it ma’am.”

  “Thank you. I want us to get on. Do you understand?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  It took well over six months for Nabeel’s first wife to accept the fact that he had taken a second wife. Aisha had worked hard to win her over, just as she promised s
he would when she last met up with Nabeel on one of his many business trips to London.

  The three now had a very nice love triangle going. The variations it opened up meant that no one could ever complain that sex had become boring or routine.

  The container shipment business Nabeel’s father had built up gave him enough money to live a life of luxury. His two wives, Dalal and Aisha wanted for nothing. If ever the three of them felt like a few nights at a beach hotel in Muscat, then Nabeel would borrow his sister’s passport. It was more than any hotel receptionist’s job was worth to ask a Muslim lady to uncover so he could check her face against the passport photo.

  Aisha enjoyed those weekends away. Once they had checked in, the three of them could leave their traditional dress in the wardrobe, enjoy the beach and the pool, and most of all, enjoy consuming alcohol in an English style bar.

  One day Nabeel would find a way to get Aisha a false passport. Aisha was in no rush though.