Bodies in the Water (The Inspector George Zammit Series Book 1) by AJ Aberford

Author:AJ Aberford [Aberford, AJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hobeck Books
Published: 2022-07-18T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 35

INSPECTOR GEORGE ZAMMIT

TRIPOLI, LIBYA

The plane landed in Tripoli at ten in the evening, local time. The flight had taken just over ninety minutes and George had enjoyed the inquisitive looks, as he had stepped out of Camilleri’s black chauffeur-driven police BMW, straight onto the airplane steps and into the business-class area at the front.

In the street at home, Marianna had been bursting with pride, prolonging his departure with hugs and kisses, not to mention unnecessary adjustments to his tie. She had ensured no neighbour missed the moment he climbed into the official car outside the house, the driver holding the door open for him.

He had yet to work out how he would deal with the briefcase. It was too heavy for him to lug around a conference for the next two days. It was bound to raise questions if he never put it down anywhere. He thought there had to be a place at the hotel where it could be left safely. Then again, Camilleri’s words echoed in his head: if he lost it, he could forget about returning to Malta. Surely that was not meant literally? Probably more a figure of speech on Camilleri’s part. At least that is what he hoped.

Stepping off the plane, he realised it was his first time on African soil. Mediterranean airports all tended to look the same and Tripoli International Airport was no exception.

A smallish man in a dark suit appeared from nowhere and took George’s arm, steering him through a door marked ‘No Entry.’ He had brought an airport pass, with some Arabic script on a lariat, which he slipped around George’s neck.

“Welcome to Tripoli. First visit?”

“Yes,” George said, trying to be friendly. “It looks similar to Malta, so far!”

The man glanced at him. “It’s very different from Malta, believe me.”

He said nothing more, just walked ahead while George struggled to keep up, his bags and the heavy briefcase hampering his shorter strides. Some automatic doors swung open and they burst out of the back corridors, into the main arrivals hall.

“Taxis ahead. Pay only fifteen dinars, no more. They’re all thieves here!”

With that, his escort turned away and left George alone with his luggage, and a brow beaded with sweat.

The large international hotel was much like any other, except that it was dry. George was not a big drinker but, at that moment, he could have done with a beer. Turning on the television, he stripped to his underwear and slumped on the bed, settling down to watch some random soccer game. Very soon, he dropped off into his usual deep, untroubled and uninterrupted sleep.

The conference was tedious. The large conference suite in the hotel was the same as those in the larger hotels in Malta. It occupied a windowless area with a low ceiling, under the main reception hall. It boasted gold-framed chairs with red mock velvet upholstery that tried, but, failed to create an air of grandeur and splendour. The coffee was thick and hot, the pastries fat and sticky, both of which delighted George.

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