The Protocols of Carstairs
Copyright© 2021 by Ron Dudderie
Chapter 19: The Deadly Hajji
I couldn’t resist a chapter break here. Sorry, Edwin. You know I made it out. But it was my turn in the shower anyway, so I called it a day and turned in once I got back to my bunk. So where was I? Ah yes, kept at gunpoint by Asim, who was enraged to find out I was a spy and had uncovered that Omar was up to something. There was no denying it: I had literally been caught removing a hard disk from a laptop. Or replacing it, rather, as I’d just copied it and handed off that copy.
Had I been an actual spy, ready to die for Queen and Country, perhaps I would have been glad that I had at least turned over the evidence to the CIA. But I’m not a spy. I’m an amateur. I dabble, so to speak. Real spies know not to leave laptops they’ve been copying turned upside down and opened up in a room while they’re running errands. Real spies would have taken a minute to replace the compartment door and turn the damned thing back the right way up. But that sodding laptop was encased in a ridiculous wooden box, beset with jewels and laid in with gold. It was heavy and unwieldy and I was stressed out and in a hurry. And I’d just bumped my head, if that counts for anything. (That’s a reach, I know.)
So Asim, holding me at gunpoint, seemed to be debating what to do next. He could have taken his phone out of his pocket, but calling a helpline while you are aiming a gun at someone isn’t very easy. At some point you have to look at the screen. These suites were so large that yelling was unlikely to yield any results. And perhaps he wouldn’t want to get the hotel staff involved, either.
At that point, the door to Omar’s room, the real one that connected to the corridor, opened and Amina walked in, pushing a cart with bed linen and toilet paper. She was reading a clipboard and when she looked up and saw the pair of us, she gasped.
“Hhhhhhhuuuuuuuuhhhhh...” she shivered, holding her hands in front of her face.
“Amina! Amina! Close the door!” said Asim, speaking Arabic. “Do it now!”
“What is going on?”
The poor thing looked terrified.
“Shut the door! But don’t leave! I need your help! CARSTAIRS! HANDS UP!”
“Yes, Your ... Your ... Ro ... Royal Highness...” she stuttered, and did indeed close the door behind her.
“He is a spy. I caught him stealing Prince Omar’s laptop.”
“The professor is a spy?!”
“Yes! I need to tie him up, so he won’t attack.”
“Okay ... okay ... give me the pistol, I will...”
“NO! You tie him up. If he attacks you, I will shoot him. What have you got that we can use? Have you got rope?”
“No, Your Royal Highness, I don’t have rope! Perhaps I can tear up a towel?”
“Excellent! Yes! A towel. Okay, do it. KEEP YOUR HANDS UP!”
Obviously ripping up a big, fluffy towel from a luxury hotel is not something that many women manage to do, at least not without first making a cut.
“I can’t manage!” she said, after giving it a go. I’m not sure I could have, to be honest. I’d used those towels. The seams alone were thick enough to strangle a goat.
“Find something else! What’s in your cart?” asked Asim, getting very agitated. He didn’t want to take his eyes off me.
“Oh! Wait! I know!” said Amina, gingerly walking behind Asim towards the corridor inside the suite that led to the small staff rooms.
“What?!” asked Asim.
“Wait, wait, I’ll get it!” said Amina. She briefly disappeared and came back with a big bundled up towel in her hand. She was behind Asim now, but he didn’t want to look over his shoulder.
“What have you got?” he asked.
“This. This will do it,” she said, still behind him. “I can tie him up with this.”
“Okay. Do it,” ordered Asim, taking a step aside to let her pass. Amina walked up to him, looked me in the face for an instant and walloped Asim upside the head with the towel. There was a nasty sound, a muffled metal clunk. An iron fell to the floor, as did he. I jumped forward and grabbed the pistol from his hand.
Two minutes later Asim was on Omar’s bed, tied up with zip ties Amina had fetched from my room. I always have a few of those on hand, to secure a suitcase or fix something else. I was pretty pleased with myself when I was told MI6 recommends bringing a few large zip ties along as part of your default equipment, I don’t mind telling you. And they’re plastic, so no trouble at all at the X-ray check. Asim had rather a lot of towel in his mouth right now, but he was still so dazed he didn’t object too much. Amina and I had an emergency meeting, standing as far away from him as we could.
“Okay, thanks for that. Now get the hell out of here.”
“No. We’ve gone too far. Did you copy the laptop?”
“Yes.”
“Is there any reason for you to stay?”
“Not here, no. But I found some information on it. I don’t know what to do with that, yet.”
“Worry about him first. What will he do if you set him free?”
“Ruin everything. Tell Omar I’m on to him.”
“Then you should get rid of him,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“Whu ... Hello? That’s cold! That’s my friend! And why are you so keen to get involved? You can get yourself hanged for helping me!”
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