The Nadler hotel

The Nadler hotel

A Story by Haim Kadman

The first chapter of my book and thriller The Puppet.


The Nadler hotel

The Puppet

An excerpt

A certain prominent figure of the minority population in the state of Israel, a leader of a political party flew to London; to pass a relaxing weekend in a suitable and modest four star hotel. The Nadler Soho. He flew all alone incognito and the pretext was a clandestine meeting in Cairo, that's what he told his wife that was left behind to take care of their two daughters; he didn't say a thing about it to his party members, and with a meticulous search while surfing the internet he chose that London modest hotel.

Two reasons influenced his choice, the hotel's represententing sculpture of a huge nude female angel, and its vicinity to Soho. He needed a drastic change of atmosphere, and night clubs, strip shows and brothels were his goals.

On Thursday night he sneaked from his home in Nazareth, and drove straight to the airport. He bought a round trip ticket to Cairo at the Egypt air counter, there were very few customers at that time that roamed around in the main passenger hall; after having finished their arrangement, and the counter was free and thus there was no one there who could recognized him thanks Allah.

Cairo was his first destination where he was supposed to have his mysterious meeting, and that's after all was what he told his loyal wife.

It took him though twenty five minutes to board the plane, and after one hour flight the plane landed in Cairo international airport. At the Egypt air counter he bought a round trip ticket to London, his flight was due to take off at seven forty five the next morning, so he checked in for one night at the Novotel Cairo Airport hotel.

He spent some time at the hotel lobby trying to get a certain kind of "male entertainment" in fact a call girl in vain, and as the outcome of his vain efforts he slept just a few hours and was rather tired the next morning; but he did sleep during almost the five hours flight to London.

At one fifteen pm Mr. Munir Baraka landed at Heathrow International airport, it took him thirty five additional moments to leave the airport, and board a cab on his way to his hotel The Nadler Soho. At two forty five pm the minority party leader checked in at last in his humble hotel, and was guided to his room. Every moment was precious in his short itinerary as he had to return to Cairo the next morning and incognito again; and then he had to return to Nazareth and meet his party members on Monday evening.

He left his small suitcase on the floor, and went to wash his hands and face in the bathroom before descending to the hotel restaurant, to have a late lunch. But there was no restaurant at that cozy hotel of his choice, so he had to go out and look for a suitable joint to have some food to fill up his bowels.

He ended his quick search at a Dean Street restaurant, which carried this same title and entered its empty hall. He was its only customer at this late hour, and an exceptionally good looking and bored waitress was glad to serve him. While she took his order he scrutinized her face features, which seemed somewhat familiar to him; her dark hair and eyes made him sure that she is of an Arab descent, Although her fluent English. He kept watching her lithe and well shaped body, when she was on her way back to the restaurant's kitchen.

When she came again to his table after a while with the dish he ordered, he let her put it in front of him, and when she was about to leave him he turned and asked her:

'Do you speak Arabic?'

She opened a pair of eyes expressing her astonishment, and it took her a second or two to reply.

'Well yes sir, but why?'

'I believe that you're an Arab like me.' Munir Baraka hastened to introduce his ethnic origin with a broad smile.

'My parents are Tunisian but I was born and brought up here in London; I'm sorry sir I can't stay longer at your table.' She added and went towards the espresso counter.

What a real stroke of luck…! Baraka thought very encouraged. He left her a generous tip on a piece of paper written in Arabic with his hotel's name and room number, in which he invited her to come up to his room at the end of her shift.

On his way out he passed close to the espresso counter and winked to her. She blushed slightly and a shade of a smile appeared on her lovely face.

Copyright © Haim Kadman 2015. All rights reserved.

© 2016 Haim Kadman

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Added on December 25, 2016
Last Updated on December 25, 2016
Tags: Suspense, intelligence, extortion, betrayal, escape


Haim Kadman
Haim Kadman

Petach-Tikva, Israel

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