"Okay, okay, but I think you like the other place better."

I remained silent and stared out the open window as he pulled out into traffic. He navigated his tiny car through the narrow unmarked streets like an experienced ship captain who knew his maps by heart. The passing buildings of simple brick construction with their brightly hand-painted signs would have been at home in Istanbul. A fresh breeze blew in off the ocean as we drove, revitalizing the old streets.

He stopped in front of an anonymous brown building with a simple Arabic inscription scrawled over the arched doorway. He looked up in the mirror and repeated the name I had read to him. "Hotel Majeet."

The script above the ignoble entrance seemed to say 'go away' to anyone not invited, and I would have had I not been.

Uncaring of the cost, I peeled off a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to him, lingering only long enough to notice his approving reaction. I had taken no more than two steps away when the cabbie took off, engine racing and tires squealing around the corner and out of sight. Resting white gulls took flight at the commotion and looked down on me with curiosity. The low drone of heavy machinery growled up from the nearby port.

The old woman waiting behind the high counter of the front room eyed me as suspiciously as the gulls had. Deep wrinkles crept out from the corners of her thin mouth and exaggerated her natural frown. Undeterred, I strode in proudly, sat my bag down and placed both hands flat on the blue tiled counter top.

"I would like a room please," I said fully expecting her not to understand a word. The credibility of everything Samas had told me about the job seemed to hang in the lengthening silence before her response.

"What is your name?" she asked in a cold voice. Her English came without effort as though she spoke it every day.

I smiled wide. "Evan Michaels."

"Here, you're already paid for," she said as she placed a key and an envelope on the counter between my hands. "It's through there." She pointed a crooked finger down the hallway to my right.

A feeling of confidence washed over me as I took the envelope and key. "Thanks," I said, walking past her. "I think," I mumbled down the hall out of earshot. The match to the six on the key chain was at the end of the hall.

The room was spare in its furnishings but its bare sterile walls looked clean. A single small nightstand rested next to the white quilted bed. An unfinished wooden chair flanked the bed on the other side. I placed the bag on the chair, stood the cane in the corner and sat on the edge of the bed as I tore the letter open. Samas' booming bravado-filled voice echoed in my head as I began to read.