Deep Black - Andy McNab [124]
He opened it and ushered us through. We hesitated, starting to take off our boots before crossing the threshold.
‘Please, no need, just enter.’ Nuhanovic took a closer look at Jerry’s face. ‘That wound needs to be cleaned.’
The room, maybe four metres by five, was heated by a blazing fire. Logs were stacked against the wall, and the air was heavy with perfume and woodsmoke.
Our shadows flickered on the walls. An oil lamp in the corner provided the only other light, and lavender oil simmered in a little brass tray above the flame. The happiest sight was the steaming brews that stood on two brass trays by the grate. I headed straight for them.
Jerry joined me, trying to kickstart his circulation in front of the fire. Above it, hot water bubbled in a clay tank decorated with inlaid pieces of coloured glass.
Nuhanovic stayed by the door. ‘The water should be hot enough for you to shower. Please, change, be comfortable and then we can talk.’ He turned to leave.
‘I’m Nick.’ I motioned with my hand. ‘This is Jerry.’
That half-smile returned. ‘And I am Hasan.’
He closed the door behind him.
Jerry didn’t need any second invitation. He turned the small brass tap at the bottom of the tank and hot water streamed into a large clay jug beneath it. I poured out the brews. I was pleased to see it was tea rather than that Arabic coffee shite, although I would have gone for anything even half-way warm. I threw in a handful of lumps of crystallized brown sugar. The glass burned my fingers and lips as I started sipping.
Jerry filled the jug, and started to get undressed in front of the fire. I kicked off my boots, refilled my glass and took a look around. Two sides of the room were dominated by long seating areas littered with cushions. Some basic clothing had been laid out for us. There was no decoration on the dirty white plastered walls.
A slatted wooden door opposite the fire led to a toilet, a simple box with a hole in, with a washing bowl and hand towel alongside. There were no electric sockets or fittings that I could see. It was as if we’d been transported back two hundred years.
Jerry had ripped all his kit off and was busy drawing cold water from a barrel into a second jug. He obviously knew his way around nineteenth-century plumbing. He unhooked the chain that held the ornate brass bucket above the stone shower tray to the left of the fire. Letting it run through his hands until the bucket hit the shower tray, he poured in water from each jug until he was satisfied with the temperature.
I eased open the blue-glass door to check outside. The terracotta rooftops were covered with frost. Above them, a million stars glistened in a pitch-black sky.
The other side of the compound was in total darkness. The guys on stag must have been freezing. I could make out the shape of another building beyond the one-storey one, which was where the family would have lived. It was the usual Muslim set-up. Visitors would be kept this side. If they were here for business, they’d be confined to the ground floor. The first floor would be reserved for family guests, as they would be able to see into the private courtyard that separated the two areas. Weren’t we the lucky ones?
These places were completely surrounded by thick walls, and were a nightmare to get into or out of. They’d even made sure the treeline was a fair distance from the walls to prevent any climbers.
I saw movement in the guest courtyard. A couple of bodies were standing under the veranda. Fair one; I’d have had eyes on us two full-time as well. They’d probably been there when we came in.
We needed to get ourselves sorted out if we were going to be running around in the forest once we’d dropped Nuhanovic. We needed to get warm, dry and fed.
Jerry gasped. I couldn’t tell whether that meant the water was too hot, too cold,