Chapter 2 : Kolin International

The arrival formalities in Kolin seemed no more or less tedious than at any airport. That was one of the sad things about the development of air travel, Henry thought. After leaving Heathrow he felt there was nothing to choose between a run down, fly-blown, derelict airport with third world catering and the capital of Kushtia. Henry allowed himself a grin. Freddie would be furious if he heard him say that. One thing about his uncle - Freddie could be fiercely patriotic.

He emerged from the baggage claim, surprised that his bag seemed to have had no worse a flight than he had, and headed for customs. As Freddie had suggested, the informal entry visa of a $10 bill left carelessly in his passport speeded his admission to the People's Democratic Republic of Kushtia.

In the arrivals hall, a short dark man was waiting carrying a cardboard sign with the words "Henly Cregg" scrawled on it. Henry thought that was close enough and presented himself to the man. He pointed to the exit and headed off towards it, barely giving Henry enough time to collect his bags and stagger after him. Henry found him outside sitting in a battered Zil limousine. He tossed his bag into the back and climbed in alongside the driver. As the car pulled away, Henry grasped at once the reason why so many Russian leaders used to be seen scowling so frequently.

It was dark. The complete lack of street lighting meant that Henry's first impressions of Kushtia would be delayed until the morning. It was probably just as well. The airport road ran into town past a series of factories, cement plants, steel works and chemical refineries. It wasn't the most attractive of routes.

When Freddie had set things up he'd asked Henry if he'd prefer the Kolin Holiday Inn or the Kolin Centrallum Hotel. Henry had opted for the latter, not wanting to check into yet another impersonal international chain hotel. As Henry climbed out of the Zil in front of the hotel he now realised why Freddie had said, "Well, if you're sure..."

The hotel front was in complete darkness apart from a feeble bulb glowing over the front door. Henry pushed his way inside, dragging his bag behind him.

The lobby of the hotel was, however, much more welcoming than its exterior. There was light, there were comfortable looking chairs, there was a bar and, most intriguing of all, there was a woman naked apart from a veil that covered the lower half of her face, dancing on a table for the amusement of the guests. Henry though that Kushtia or at least the hotel had something going for it after all.

A loud cough from behind him drew his attention away from the spectacle in the bar. His driver was waiting. Evidently the opportunity to leer at naked flesh wasn't sufficient recompense for his trip. Henry nodded towards the naked woman, "Not your sort of thing?"

"Ah, maybe. Without the veil, that would be something. With it - well you westerners may find it a novelty, perhaps." He shrugged. Henry found him another $10 bill. The man flashed Henry a toothy grin and left.

By the time that Henry had registered and been given his room key the almost naked woman had, to his disappointment, gone. In spite of the absence of entertainment Henry made his way back to the bar. He ordered a beer. The barman insisted that he could only serve alcohol to foreign nationals and was then disappointed when Henry showed him his passport, the extra tips for this illegal service obviously making up part of what he considered his rightful payment entitlement. Henry sat down. There had been a message waiting for him at the check in desk. He opened the envelop to read it.

"Good greeting and most welcome to Kolin," it said in neat handwriting on headed notepaper that proclaimed itself as coming from the People's Bank of Kushtia. "It is my great pleasure that a brother son of the most excellent Freddie should be here in our country. My many distraughts that I can be not wit you tonight but will join in the morning feed time. Your most extraordinary correspondent. Kerren Kerrish. General Manager and Chief Cashier"

He re-read it and felt he had managed to take from it all the meaning that might be held within. Henry sank another beer and then a third before retiring to bed in anticipation of his meeting the following morning.

Kerren Kerrish arrived the following morning in time to interrupt Henry's breakfast as he sat alone in the hotel restaurant. Henry saw him arrive at the doorway. He wasn't sure that the man would actually get through it. Kerrish was man with a bushy white beard and a substantial girth. If his complexion had been lighter he might have made some store an ideal festive Santa Claus. "What delights, Mr Clegg, what delights," he boomed as he stepped across to Henry's table.