More about my story

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There’s always something about that knock on the door in a hotel when you’re not expecting anyone.

This is more so when you are staying in the hotel for reasons other than what you intimated to the desk clerk.

The art of not being noticed is to be anonymous, the sort of person that does not stand out, that no one gives a second look.  That’s a bit hard if you are an Englishman in a foreign country.  Language, skin colour, dietary requirements, allergies, heat or cold, and travelling alone are all features which will catch someone’s attention.

Yes, like the arrivals hall at an international airport, as in a hotel lobby, there are spies watching the spies.

That’s why a universal occupation like journalist flies well in these situations.  And given there is an international conference, he can hide in plain sight.

Except, the police chief likes to know who he’s dealing with and meets up for a little discussion about protocol.  After all, he wouldn’t the first or last journalist to find himself in breach of the customs of the country.

Mind what you write.

And yes, there is a chief of the secret police, a man who scares everyone from the president down, the man who makes people disappear, and we’re going with the dark sunglasses, immaculate uniform, I think I’m a god, tropes.