it and he had a far more distinguished look in the flesh.
Gabriel studied Stratton with what appeared to be suspicion for an inordinately long time.
‘Stratton?’ the man asked, looking unsure.
‘That’s right,’ Stratton said as he looked at both ends of the corridor, checking to see they were alone.
Gabriel opened the door and Stratton walked into the simply decorated room which was barely large enough to allow anyone to move around the double bed without scraping the walls. It had a small television on a swivel bracket bolted into a corner close to the ceiling, a dresser with an electric kettle, two cups and tea and coffee and a tidy en-suite bathroom with a bath, sink and toilet ergonomically fitted into the most confined of spaces. Stratton stood in the gap between the room entrance and the bathroom as Gabriel closed the door behind him, locked it and remained standing, apparently not quite finished with his examination of Stratton.
‘Everything okay?’ Stratton asked, forcing a smile, doing a bit of inspecting himself. Gabriel was conservatively dressed in a wool jacket, striped shirt, plain tie, wool trousers with a razor crease and brown brogues. He looked like a schoolteacher. His build suggested he had been athletic in his younger days but not any more. Everything about him, the cut of his cloth, hair, fingernails and neatness of his belongings suggested he was meticulous. He looked tired though, his eyes red and sunken, the lids blinking lazily indicating a thirst for sleep, and they flickered in harmony with his gravel voice as if sensitive to the coarseness of it.
‘You’re British military intelligence?’ Gabriel said, more a statement of doubt than a question.
‘And you’re Gabriel,’ Stratton said, ignoring the attitude and putting it down to paranoia. ‘You settled in all right?’ Stratton asked, practising his polite tone. ‘How was your trip?’
‘Tiring. I don’t like travelling.’
‘London can be a zoo.’
‘I’ve been here before,’ Gabriel said. ‘I’m not much of a fan . . . Excuse me,’ he said, looking Stratton in the eye as he took a pace towards him. Stratton moved aside and Gabriel walked past and into the bathroom where he packed his toothbrush, toothpaste, soap and comb into his ablutions bag, and walked back into the bedroom to the window where he collected more of his personal effects and placed them into a small holdall.
‘I take it we’re going right away?’ Gabriel asked as he picked up a pair of slippers off the floor and put them carefully into the bag so that the soles were uppermost and not touching any clothing.
‘Going where?’ Stratton asked as he watched Gabriel pull a quilted jacket on having apparently decided they were indeed leaving.
‘They didn’t tell you?’
‘Tell me what?’
‘I told them this morning and nothing’s changed,’ Gabriel said sounding irritated.
Gabriel was obviously not the friendliest of people. Stratton wondered if this was his permanent mood or if a night’s sleep would reveal a more gracious side to him. As for the information Gabriel had given ‘them’, Stratton could only wonder what he meant.
‘Why don’t we sit down and talk for a moment,’ Stratton suggested. ‘Get to know each other a little. Whatever it is you told them you can tell me,’ he continued, waiting for Gabriel to sit on the side of the bed before he took the seat by the door.
Gabriel remained standing looking unsatisfied with Stratton’s suggestion, or perhaps it was the patronising tone in which he spoke to him. ‘I can’t work here,’ he said. ‘That’s why I don’t like being away.’
‘Away from where?’
‘Virginia. I work better there.’
‘You live in Virginia?’
Gabriel gave him a look as if Stratton should have known the answer. ‘You are from MI6, aren’t you?’ he asked in a superior tone difficult to hide because that is how he felt. This thug was not what he had been expecting. He had imagined a man in a suit for a start, or at least a jacket and tie, not in what looked like nylon trousers with zipper pockets on the sides, boots of some description and a leather jacket that appeared to have survived World War Two. Gabriel suddenly wondered if there might have been a misunderstanding and that this man was simply a driver or escort.
Stratton could sense Gabriel’s discomfort with him but he was no stranger to being underestimated because of his looks. ‘I was brought on to the job in a bit of a hurry,’ Stratton said. ‘They told me a little, but who better to tell