up. Soon, I tell you . . . You live in Latvia?’
Zhilev didn’t answer and the driver glanced at him again.
‘Why don’t you make some money and round up some women when you get back home and send them to me. I’ll make you rich. Eh?’
‘How far are we from the old city?’ Zhilev asked.
The driver was miffed at being ignored. ‘Five minutes,’ he said. He then pulled a bottle of vodka from under his seat, unscrewed the top, took a swig and offered it to Zhilev.
‘You want?’
‘No,’ Zhilev said.
The driver shrugged, screwed the top back on and replaced it under his seat. ‘Which gate you want?’
‘What?’ Zhilev asked.
‘Which gate? I can’t drive into the old city. You must walk. Which gate? There are eight.’
‘Any will do.’
‘Where you staying? You need a hotel? I know a good hotel. Cheap.’
Zhilev could only imagine what this man’s hotel recommendations would be like. ‘No, thanks,’ he mumbled.
The driver shrugged as they pulled to a stop at a set of traffic lights and he pulled his bottle from under the seat and took another swig.
Zhilev had not thought about staying in a hotel, but now that the driver had mentioned it, it sounded like a sensible idea. There was no rush. He had originally planned to plant the bomb as soon as he arrived, but there were several good reasons why a delay of one day made sense. He wanted to make a final check of the device to ensure he had bypassed the protection protocols, and run through another arming rehearsal. He would need complete privacy for that. There was also the possibility that something might prevent him from carrying out his plan right away and he would need a base. On top of all of that, the thought of a hot bath and spending the night in a comfortable bed with clean sheets was very appealing.
‘I want a good hotel,’ Zhilev announced.
‘Good? How good?’
‘The best.’
‘The best?’ the driver said with a smirk. He had already begun to smell Zhilev and was wondering if the man could pay his taxi fare. He looked in his rear-view mirror and this time Zhilev was looking him in the eye. The driver’s smirk melted as he saw something in the big Latvian’s eyes that was clearly a warning.
‘What kind of hotel you want?’ the driver asked. ‘Israeli or Palestinian?’
Zhilev considered the question. He cared for neither in particular, but the Palestinian was closest to his enemy and the thought of bedding down amongst them before he ended their lives appealed to him. ‘Is there a good Palestinian hotel?’
‘We are coming to it,’ the driver said. ‘And it’s just a five-minute walk to the old city.’
They approached a roundabout, took the first exit and a few yards up a slight hill the driver pulled the car into the kerb and stopped. Zhilev looked out of the window at a bronze plaque on a wall by an entrance that advertised the American Colony.
‘It’s called American Colony but it’s Palestinian,’ the driver said. ‘Expensive.’
Zhilev opened the door.
‘Thirty shekels,’ the driver said, holding out his hand and putting on his mean expression just in case Zhilev thought of running.
Zhilev pulled a US five-dollar bill from his pocket and put it in the driver’s hand.
‘That’s not enough,’ the driver said.
‘It’s enough,’ Zhilev said as he climbed out of the vehicle with his bag and closed the door.
The driver rolled down his window and called out an expletive as he drove away. Zhilev ignored him as he walked to the entrance and stopped to look inside the grounds, the hotel being mostly hidden by trees and groomed vegetation. It was inviting and he could already feel himself soaking in the hot bath. He looked down at his feet, his trousers and the sleeves of his shirt. They were grubby and worn. If he was going to clean up, he should not do it by halves. Some new clothes were in order, the question was, should he buy them now before he entered the hotel, or after, when he was refreshed. The obvious answer was to have something clean to put on after his bath.
He looked up and down the street.There were no shops in the immediate area, but further up the hill, at the top of the road, there were what appeared to be several stores. Perhaps others were around the corner.
He shouldered his bag and walked up the hill.
As Zhilev reached the top of the hill and the first of the