Harry gave a nod and nothing else.
Asher took his duffle bag and left him to it. The captain of the ship was fine, if not a whole lot warier than he had been, and very happy to see the two stowaways get off his boat. The private jetty was covered by the jet-black night, not even moonlight to guide them.
It took a second for Asher’s eyes to adjust to the dark as they made their way to the road. It was a bit of a walk, a rocky incline no less, and Asher wondered about Harry’s ankle. He never complained though, never even made a sound. For a big guy, he sure was quiet.
Once on the road, a pair of yellow headlights up ahead flashed in the dark. On and off again. It was an older van, two figures sat in the front. The passenger got out and opened the sliding door and Asher knew, without even turning around, that Harry had his pistol in his hand.
“Calm down,” he said quietly over his shoulder. Asher climbed into the van and Harry followed. He kept his backpack between his feet and his pistol, still in his hand, by the side of his leg.
Asher rolled his eyes, but not a word was spoken the entire way. Probably just as well. They drove into the city, past all the fancy hotels and expensive cars, and headed through the narrow streets, some lit, some not. The van pulled into a compound of sorts, the gate closing behind them. Completely enclosed, it was three sides of living quarters with a large courtyard.
“Jesus,” Harry mumbled.
The two men got out and the first man opened the van door. He was in his sixties, had short, grey curly hair. He wore a faded black djellaba and a tight smile. “Mr Asher.”
Asher gave him a warm grin. “Mr Sadik. Thank you so much for your hospitality. This is Harry.”
Harry gave a nod, not any more relaxed.
Asher gave Harry a nudge to get out of the van, which he did, thankfully concealing the gun with his backpack. Mr Sadik watched as Harry unfolded himself from the van and stood to his full height, and Mr Sadik took a small step back.
Harry had that effect on people.
The man who drove the van, a younger man that Asher recognised, had gone to a door and unlocked it. Mr Sadik held his hand out toward it. “This way.”
The room they were led to was more of a self-contained apartment, even if it was small. There was a daybed and small table, a television, a pile of square seat cushions in one corner, and a tiny washroom. The walls were whitewashed, the floor was old terracotta tiles, some broken, the curtain hung crooked across the window. Everything was old and there was a faint smell of some kind of spice.
It was perfect.
“It is adequate?” Mr Sadik asked. He stood alone, timid.
Asher went to him and put a reassuring hand on his arm. “Very much. It is good to see you again, Mr Sadik. Please tell me you’ve been well.”
The older man gave a nod, keeping his head bowed. “Very well, thank you, Mr Asher.” He took a step backward. “I will leave you be. My wife, Malha, will bring you breakfast. Sleep well.”
He disappeared and pulled the door closed. Harry dropped his backpack in the corner by the cushions, though he kept his pistol in his waistband. He began laying some cushions on the floor as a makeshift bed. “How do you know him? He’s scared of you, yet obligated to help.”
Asher chuckled. “No, he’s afraid of you.”
Harry stopped and shot him an annoyed look. “Do you ever answer any questions?”
Asher lay down on the daybed, put his arms behind his head, and sighed. “I saved his life.”
That earned him another glance from Harry.
“Four years ago,” Asher explained. “He’s a pharmacist. He was delivering medicine to a not so nice part of town. There was gunfire, and I pulled him along with me and got him to safety. He’d have been killed for sure.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Did you start the gunfire?”
Asher chuckled. “Possibly. The target had some bodyguards who returned fire.”
“You should have shot them first.”
“And lost the mark?”
Harry grumbled something. “So you saved him but not before he saw you shoot them all dead. That’s why he’s scared of you.”
Asher rolled on his side, facing Harry. He pulled a pillow under his head. Sleep was starting to chase him now. “Scared, perhaps. Indebted, yes. He promised to help if I ever needed it. This will see his debt repaid.”