Fuller entered the university through a back entrance that few knew about. The university, like just about every university he had worked or studied in, apart from the Oxford and Cambridge colleges, which were more like mini-fortresses with their main gates and high walls, was a jumble of buildings with a variety of approaches.
The one Fuller chose was down an alleyway and then along a cul de sac, which ended in a small barred gate hidden behind some bins. The gate should have been locked, but never had been in all the time that Fuller had worked there.
The gate led to an access road that ran round the back of the main university building and was used for deliveries and waste collection. At this time of night, six p.m., it was deserted. Fuller was wearing hipster jeans that were a bit of a squeeze to get on these days, Converse sneakers and a hooded Queen’s College top which obscured his face. CCTV would show him up as a generic student.
He could easily have got into the university through the main entrance, but tonight it would very much suit his purpose to be incognito.
Around the corner was one of the smaller student-union meeting rooms. There were half a dozen in the university, to serve the ten thousand strong student body. Access to it was theoretically only possible via the internal corridors branching off the university main halls.
Tuesday nights in this particular meeting room were pre- booked all term by the al-Nahda (in Arabic it meant ‘renaissance’) society. They were a moderate group of Muslim intellectual students, who debated the perennial issues gripping the Arab world. Israel, American foreign policy, democracy, the Muslim Brotherhood, the usual. More importantly for Fuller, he knew their routine. He had been a guest speaker at their meetings a couple of times, and a lot of them, particularly the overseas Middle Eastern students, smoked. The emergency door was propped open to allow exit to the outside for this purpose.
Prayer time for early evening tonight was six thirty p.m. Fuller lingered in the shadows outside, until he heard the opening of the Shihaada in the Adhan, the call to prayer:
‘Allah u Akbar.’
He knew this meant God is Greatest. More importantly, he also knew that it would be repeated three times and that everyone inside would be facing the Qibla, the direction of the Ka’aba in Mecca in Saudi Arabia. Fortunately for Fuller, this was opposite the door he was about to use. Everybody’s back, without exception, would be turned.
He slipped through the door unseen. He was in the corridor outside the meeting room and he could see the backs of heads of about forty Islamic students engrossed in their devotions. Nobody looked round; nobody saw him.
Unseen and unnoticed, he slipped into the main university building.
In the capacious pockets of his jacket he had a choke chain and mask.
He was ready for her this time. This time he knew she wouldn’t say no.