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The room was Spartan to say the least. There were two thin
beds that looked like bed settees without the backs, the sheets were towelling
and the duvets wafer thin. The pattern on the threadbare carpet looked like
someone had thrown up a packet of spangles, multi-coloured squares everywhere. There
was a TV and a phone, and that was about that for mod cons. The view was
directly into another patron's room, I suppose so that we could spy on each
other.
I was tired, the flight had been long and the queue for passport
control longer. While the guard perused my passport, my landing card and my
official invite, I couldn't help but stare at his massive army cap that was as
big as the plate my mother served the turkey on at Christmas. Eventually he
grunted, signalling all was in order and I was allowed to progress.
I collapsed onto the bed and nearly jarred my back as my body hit the rock hard mattress. I fidgeted and tried to make myself comfortable on the makeshift bed. I closed my eyes and placed my arm across my face hoping to block out the light so that I could relax and maybe even get some sleep.
I'd been told to stay in my room until I was contacted. The microfiche was still hidden in my suitcase and on it were the proofs for passports that would buy freedom for people who needed to escape the tyranny of the bastards who had built this damned hotel.
I'd drifted off a little but was awoken by a knock on the door, I sat up, my heart beating. I listened to see if I'd dreamt the rat-a-tat-tat on the door or if it had been real. The knock came again, I hadn't dreamt it. I tried to clear my mind. I had to think of the code I needed to speak and hear before handing over the film. I knew what I had to say, but couldn't remember what they were meant to say. I'd remember it when I heard it.
I took a deep breath and opened the door, I don't know what I was expecting but I wasn't expecting to see two more stupidly oversized caps and army uniforms to match.
'Come with us sir,' one of the soldiers said, I couldn't remember the code but I was sure that was not it.
I collapsed onto the bed and nearly jarred my back as my body hit the rock hard mattress. I fidgeted and tried to make myself comfortable on the makeshift bed. I closed my eyes and placed my arm across my face hoping to block out the light so that I could relax and maybe even get some sleep.
I'd been told to stay in my room until I was contacted. The microfiche was still hidden in my suitcase and on it were the proofs for passports that would buy freedom for people who needed to escape the tyranny of the bastards who had built this damned hotel.
I'd drifted off a little but was awoken by a knock on the door, I sat up, my heart beating. I listened to see if I'd dreamt the rat-a-tat-tat on the door or if it had been real. The knock came again, I hadn't dreamt it. I tried to clear my mind. I had to think of the code I needed to speak and hear before handing over the film. I knew what I had to say, but couldn't remember what they were meant to say. I'd remember it when I heard it.
I took a deep breath and opened the door, I don't know what I was expecting but I wasn't expecting to see two more stupidly oversized caps and army uniforms to match.
'Come with us sir,' one of the soldiers said, I couldn't remember the code but I was sure that was not it.
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| The Carpet in question |
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