Chapter 40

 

Burj Al Arab, Jumeira Beach, Dubai:

2^nd March; 8:15pm

 

Philip Ho signed into the private suite that was holding an ‘international gaming conference’. The man, whose real name was Kwong Chong Lee, smiled as he was approached by two more regulars from the circuit. They shook hands, and chatted about previous encounters. They had each won competitions recently, and so everyone was in a friendly mood. The top prize tonight was being kept under wraps, in deference to the local authorities who had banned gambling in their country. Nonetheless, wherever the funds were gathered, and wherever they were paid, they would be won in Dubai tonight. The prize was one million dirhams, or around $270,000.

The Shadow knew that his current identity was played out, and he had already made plans to purchase a new American passport from a Korean croupier he met in Las Vegas, who had agreed to obtain the genuine passport in return for an investment in his new business venture. Kwong would re-enter the US as Philip Ho, and leave as Michael T Kwan. But first he had to win a million dirhams and prime sixteen bombs.

***

Max looked more comfortable in his dinner suit than Todd did in his, albeit his hair was just beginning to grow back after his close crop back in the UK a month ago. The temporary tattoos which Max had been carrying were faded and unrecognisable now. They looked like dirty marks on his hands and body. Those that were visible had been covered by Jamie’s concealer. Jamie, her fair hair tied up in a stylish chignon, wore a stylish black dress, although she had been careful to select a less revealing design, so as not to offend their Arabic host country. Her outfit was completed by studded black stiletto shoes and a small sparkly clutch bag. The clientele of the seven star Burj Al Arab Hotel, sometimes referred to as ‘The Sail’, was rather select, and they were very wary of allowing people into the fabulous hotel if they did not meet the dress code.

Todd enjoyed the food, but complained that the portions were ‘mean’. Jamie had to explain that gourmet eating was about taste, aroma and flavour, not bulk. Max laughed as he saw Todd shaking his head in disbelief, whilst complaining that they had paid two hundred dollars a head and he would have to grab a Big Mac on the way home if he didn’t want to go to bed hungry.

Max signed for the meal, and when he saw the bill he was pleased that it was being covered by expenses. The three friends took one last look at the view of the Persian Gulf from two hundred metres in the air, and headed back to the glass-walled elevator that would whisk them down the impressive gold-coloured atrium to the conference suites on the lower floors. As the lift glided noiselessly downwards, Jamie addressed her two companions.

“As a registered player, I can take in one guest only. That will be Max. Todd, you need to maintain a vigil in the lobby. You can fill up on coffee and cakes. Philip Ho signed in at reception an hour ago, and so we know he’s here and he has to leave via the lobby.”

“Can’t he leave from the helipad upstairs?” Todd asked.

“No. Only one landing and take-off is scheduled, and that’s coming direct from the airport and carrying a Saudi Prince. Coincidentally, it arrives just before the competition and leaves immediately after the final.” The men grinned.

Jamie and Max stepped out of the elevator and headed to the Al Falkak Ballroom, while Todd remained in the elevator and continued down to the lobby.

***

The Shadow sat patiently as the top table filled with players. These players had all earned their right to be sitting at the top table by participating in other competitions around the world. After the first round of hands, one player would leave and be replaced with a ‘wild card’ entry, someone who was playing well on the lower tables. Occasionally, at televised world championships, for example, the winner of an online poker competition would be asked to join the elite, and on one famous occasion the online winner took the Championship.

Around the tables sat a Korean, two Americans, two Russians, two men dressed in full Arab regalia and a Frenchman. The game being played was Texas Hold’em. They were playing with a French card deck and Aces were high. The other cards in a suit ranked below them in ascending value, thus 2 was the lowest value card.

The Shadow watched as each player was dealt two cards, face down, before the five community cards, face up, were placed in the centre of the group. Everyone in the group inspected their own cards, and not one showed any expression other than practiced boredom.

***

Jamie and Max were admitted into the ballroom by two large black security men whose nationality was unknown, as they never spoke. Inside, a lady sat at a table arranging name badges. Jamie was given her badge, which declared her as ‘Jamie Johnson, USA, North Eastern Conference Champion’.

Max was impressed, and looked eagerly for his own badge. The lady handed him a badge which read ‘Guest 27’. Jamie almost laughed at the disappointment registered on his face.

“It’s a good thing you’re not the one playing poker, Max,” she joked.

“I didn’t realise you were a serious poker player, Jamie,” Max offered, genuine surprise in his voice.

“I come from a family of policemen. I learned to play poker long before I got my first pack of Old Maid Cards in my Christmas stocking.”

Jamie didn’t tell Max that an overweight and rather unfit man by the name of Pete Catterson was actually the NEC champion, but he had never travelled outside the USA and so Homeland were able to persuade him to give way to Jamie, who the forged tournament papers showed as having come second in the latest competition.

Together they pushed through the heavy black velvet curtain that screened the ballroom from any casual observers. Max took a sharp intake of breath. “Wow!” was all he could say. The circular ballroom was on two levels, the floor itself and a mezzanine level that overlooked the floor, and which had magnificent views of the Gulf.

The ballroom was painted and wallpapered in gold colours, the fittings were all gold leaf and a colourful carpet filled the gap between the wooden parquet dance floor and the walls. In the centre of the dance floor, on its own, stood the top table. This was the table where the serious players were seated.

Around the outside, on the carpeted areas, six more tables were arranged. These were for the next tier of players, and most were occupied by locals and what looked to be Egyptian and Lebanese players. One table had a variety of nationalities and one empty seat.

“I guess that’s for me,” Jamie said aloud. “You can watch from the upper level.” Then she whispered, “Did you see our target on the top table?” Max nodded. “Good. Keep your eyes on him.”

***

Kwong Chong Lee knew that the secret to winning the Championship was not to try to win every hand but to play cautiously and build your own pot slowly, always waiting for the big hit. Unfortunately, knowing the secret and having the cards to make it work were two different things. Out of six players, he was running fourth. At least he would avoid the cut.

Jamie was playing out of her skin. She was taking risks and they were paying off. She was leading her table by a mile. Her goal was to make it to the top table as the wild card.

After the first round, one of the Arabic players left the top table, bowing to the other players, and everyone awaited the announcement.

“The wildcard player of the evening is Hassan Mohammed,” the British compere announced, getting the man’s given and family names the wrong way around. Everyone clapped as he took his seat at the top table, but Jamie was bitterly disappointed. She had missed the wildcard nomination by less than forty dollars.

***

By midnight Todd was sitting almost alone in the lobby at the base of the impressive atrium. He had taken his fill of cake and coffee, and had read every newspaper in the rack. He was now busy playing ‘Angry Birds’ on his iPhone. A text arrived on his phone just as he was about to annihilate more greedy pigs.

‘KCL is out of game, he may head out soon. We r on r way – J’. Todd walked to the door and asked for the Porsche to be brought back to the front of the hotel by the valet parking team. He handed over the ticket, and the man didn’t move a muscle. Todd gave him fifty dirhams, and still he did not move. Todd gave him another fifty dirhams and the man smiled. “I will be right back, sir.”

“That was a thirty dollar tip!” Todd thought to himself. “Bloody cheek.”

Todd’s job was to follow the Shadow in the Porsche and keep the Range Rover up to date with his position. Eventually the Range Rover would take over the tail. In this part of Dubai the roads were well lit, and a tail was easy to spot, unless the traffic was heavy. Fortunately, at this time of night, there were still enough cars on the road to conceal a tail.

Todd took up his vigil again. Fifteen minutes passed before Kwong Chong Lee appeared in the foyer. The Shadow had mysteriously acquired a droopy moustache and a tiny V-shaped beard under his lower lip since the CCTV picture of him at the Metro station was taken. Along with the stylish rectangular glasses and tortoiseshell frames, he looked quite different, but not to someone who was looking for him specifically.

Lee stepped out of the lobby into the warm evening air and had to wipe his glasses, which had steamed up at once in the humid atmosphere. Todd crossed the lobby and left by a side door, collecting his keys from an anxious valet who had been warned not to park vehicles outside unless they were Ferraris, Maseratis, Bentleys or better, and a Porsche just didn’t make the grade.

A few moments later, and just as Lee was stepping into a limousine, Max and Jamie presented their valet ticket to the concierge. They deliberately did not look in the direction of either Todd or their target.

The limousine pulled away from the magnificent hotel entrance smoothly and slowly. After a few moments, and after allowing a taxi to go before him, Todd followed.

***

The Shadow was more tired than he had realised. Adrenaline had kept him going this evening, but now he dozed, and by the time they arrived at the destination he was asleep on the comfortable leather upholstery. The driver was deeply puzzled. He was depositing his client outside the Gold and Diamond Centre, which had long since closed for the night, and there were no hotels or apartments close by.

“The limousine service is complimentary, sir. I can take you anywhere in Dubai. Are you sure this place is acceptable?” the driver asked, showing concern for his passenger’s well-being.

“This is fine,” Lee said, pushing a hundred dirham note into the man’s hand. The Shadow stepped out of the car and walked around the side of the Gold and Diamond Centre, then on through a parking area to a pedestrian walkway. Within two minutes he was in the workshop, where a camp bed awaited him.

***

The Range Rover was on the limo’s tail when it stopped and dropped off the target. “Todd, Lee is walking through a car park with a lowered barrier. We can’t follow him by car,” Max said into his phone. “I’ll follow him on foot at a safe distance. You swing around the back and see if he crosses the road. Jamie can hover around here at the front.”

Max waited until Lee was out of sight, and then he jogged the hundred yards to the pedestrian walkway entrance. Lee was walking along the service road away from the Gold and Diamond Centre. When he was sufficiently far ahead, Max pulled the pedestrian gate, but it wouldn’t move.

Max noticed a card reader on the wall for the first time. Lee was out of sight now, and so Max launched himself at the six foot high gate and clambered over it in an unseemly fashion. He looked up to see a CCTV camera catching a man in a dinner suit clambering over a gate, into a service area which housed only refuse and other storage containers.

Max ran to the corner where he had last seen Lee. The man had disappeared. Using his phone, he called Todd. “Has he come out onto the road yet?” he asked.

“No, mate,” came the reply. A moment later Jamie replied that he had not exited at the front, either. “OK, we lost him,” Max sighed disconsolately.

A grid search of the area showed only two exits, both of which were clearly covered by Todd and Jamie’s line of sight. Inside this perimeter were six buildings, all industrial in nature, all with roller shutter doors and personnel doors.

“OK, we know he’s in here somewhere. It makes sense, too. These are all workshops,’ Jamie noted. “And we’re less than a hundred yards away from the First Gulf Bank Station where he exited the Metro.”

“Let’s go back to the villa,” Todd suggested. “We can scope out the area in the morning, and by then Vastrick should have information on which of these workshops has been let recently.”