Howard met her at the arched doorway, a Russian blue cat winding itself round his left leg. “It’s good to see you again, my dear. Do come in – and we’ll do the introductions in the courtyard.” He was tall, with a slight stoop to the shoulders. He had prominent jowls, and a complexion mottled with liver spots, unusually early for someone in his mid-fifties, she thought. Salt and pepper hair was long and covered his ears, falling to his open-necked shirt collar. His eyes glinted blue-green.

He led them along a short warren of passageways hemmed in by high walls and moments later emerged onto a much narrower passage, dimly lit; then through an arch they stepped into a covered courtyard, its walls decorated with intricate arabesques and glazed zellij tiles. The floor tiles were a mixture of blue and ochre patterns, representing the sky and the land. A little way along the edge of the wall, earthenware pots stood crammed full with gum and false pepper trees, jacaranda and creepers and assorted thick shrubs.

A large empty bird cage stood next to six metal chairs that surrounded a large round table; on it lay a big brass tray, a steaming kettle, a pewter basin, three bowls for sugar, mint and tea leaves, three brass tea-pots and five glass cups. One chair was occupied by a tortoiseshell cat, dozing.

The introductions were over quickly.

“Time for mint tea.” Howard gently lifted off the cat, put it on the floor; it pranced away. “Please sit! Gerard will do the honours, won’t you, old fellow?”

“I always do, Howard, dear,” Gerard responded. Cat noticed he was familiar with the tea ritual. If offered a glass of tea from a prepared pot, you’re welcome. If the tea was made in front of you, you were very welcome.

Gerard poured a little hot water into the three teapots, rinsed them and discarded the water in the basin; then he added the tea leaves and hot water. “I let it steep for about two minutes,” he explained.

“It is worth the wait,” Howard told Rick.

Then Gerard swirled the teapots and discarded only the water. Finally, he added sugar and mint leaves to each teapot and then boiling water, and closed the lids.

Rick licked his lips. “I can almost taste it already,” he said.

“Soon,” Gerard said, smiling. “Five minutes.”

“I think we’ve lost something in the modern world with all this instant coffee and teabags, don’t you think?” Howard said.

“Yes,” Rick said.

“Too busy to savour life,” Gerard added.

“Quite so, my friend,” Howard replied.

Finally, Gerard poured the golden liquid into the glass cups, letting the stream fall from a reasonable height to cause slight froth.

“Delicious!” Rick enthused, sipping his drink.

Cat noticed that Abdel seemed at ease. Howard had that effect on people; or maybe it was the tea?

“What happened to your parrot?” Cat asked.

At that moment, two black cats rushed up to Howard and jumped onto his lap. Automatically stroking them, he wrinkled his nose. “One of our feline companions ate it – I don’t know which one was the culprit, though.”

She eyed Rick. “My point exactly. Cats make ideal predators,” she purred.

***

The admission is eight euros per person, which includes tea and sweet pastries, most of which are daubed in an excess of honey. 

Here too can be found a peacock roaming the grounds, together with cats and dogs and pigeons. All overseen by exceedingly tall date palms. At night, the gardens are subtly lit by lanterns, and we never seemed to be troubled by mosquitos or flies – perhaps the various plants deterred them.

***

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There’s an interesting mix of characters whose lives are going to converge - and every one of them is believable, as are the subordinate characters, whether Arab, Israeli or American; a sure sign of thriller-writing of the highest order.

Caleb seems to have denied any past beyond two years ago.  He survives an American ambush and is shipped off to Guantanamo Bay for processing; yet he doesn’t seem to be a terrorist and after many months of interrogation he’s returned to Afghanistan ...

Marty and Lizzy-Jo are two young Agency whizz-kids who fly the unmanned spy-planes, the Predators; they’re being shipped out to Saudi Arabia.

Here already is Beth Jenkins, a school-teacher and amateur meteorologist and Bart, a doctor with a distinctly shady past, who happens to be one of several spies garnering any titbits for Eddie Wroughton, the Saudi MI6 man.

Back in London is Lovejoy, an old spy, who sits through briefings to understand the psychology of today’s terrorists: the men Al Qaeda want to recruit for their dirty work are not loners, they want men who are tough, persistent, determined and bright.

Jed Dietrich is an interrogator in Guantanamo; while he was on vacation, Agency know-alls let Caleb go.  On his return, he managed to unmask Caleb as a liar - too late, the man had beaten them all... 

The manhunt was on for someone wily enough to bide his time and beat the interrogators.  Someone Al Qaeda would like to use, probably as a mule to deliver a lethal package to any city in the West...

‘The explosion would cause thirty injured and three deaths, but unseen in the air heated by the detonation and moved on the wind - particles of caesium chloride...’  The fear of a dirty bomb.  Panic would ensue.  And the creation of panic is the terrorist’s principal aim.

Inner cities would be abandoned.  ‘The panic caused would initiate a new Dark Age.’

The manhunt leads to the Empty Quarter - sand dunes and shallow mountains that cover a quarter of a million square miles of emptiness.  And through the fire of the sun’s unrelenting heat is a caravan with Caleb getting nearer to Al Qaeda and an appointment with immortal fame.

Unless he can be stopped.  Thoroughly researched, Caleb’s journey becomes your journey and you can’t help rooting for this brave young man who seems determined to blot out pain and other emotions just to reach his goal. 

From the fifth to the eighth century Córdoba was ruled by the Visigoths. Two hundred years later, the Moors came, with the help of the city’s disaffected Jewish residents. The Islamic rule permitted the worship of other religions, so Jews, Christians and Moors lived and worked cheek by jowl. A far cry from the intolerance of the Spanish Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand who threw out of Spain not only the Arabs but also the Jews in 1492.

 

It’s an intriguing fact that often beneath any place of worship you may find older hidden churches and cathedrals. Apparently, during the Visigothic period the church of San Vicente was built, only to be destroyed by the Moors who began in 785 to build on the same site their great mosque; the construction took two hundred years and the mosque was considered so important that it saved the city’s inhabitants the arduous pilgrimage to Mecca, which boasted the only mosque of greater size and importance.

 

Abd al Rahman I, inspired by the Mosque of Damascus, intended the design to include the traditional ablution courtyard – where the faithful washed before prayer – and the hall of prayer itself. His successor, Abd al Rahman II, carried out the first addition, lengthening the courtyard and the prayer hall aisles.  A minaret was constructed in the courtyard but this is now embedded in the cathedral’s 93m high bell tower, Torre del Alminar. Al Hakam II increased the splendour of the decorations, bringing Byzantine artists to provide beautiful mosaics. The final expansion of the mosque was effected under the rule of Al Mansur.

With its seventeen aisles, divided by tiers of arches spanning columns often taken from Roman and Carthaginian sites; it still has a powerful effect on any visitor entering from the Courtyard of the Orange Trees.  The profusion of magnificent arches has been called ‘a holy jungle’, which is most apt with about 850 columns creating a criss-crossing of alleys, the pillars supporting two tiers of striped arches that add height and create a remarkable feeling of space.

The mihrab – a prayer recess – is situated along the wall that faces Mecca and it held a gilt copy of the Koran. Here you can appreciate the exquisite mosaic art and interlaced arches. The mihrab is topped by a shell-shaped dome. The worn flagstones indicate where pilgrims circled it seven times on their knees – it’s now fenced-off, probably to preserve the floor.

 

The great mosque and its courtyard were places of worship, centres of teaching, of justice and here too a social life thrived.

In the eleventh century, civil war devastated the city, hundreds were massacred and much of the beautiful city destroyed. Although it remained a Muslim city for another two hundred years, its power had gone, being transferred to Seville and other petty Islamic kingdoms. Córdoba finally fell to the Reconquest in 1236 and its Muslim inhabitants fled south.

Immediately after the Christians took the city, the great mosque became their cathedral – Church of the Virgin of the Assumption – with minor architectural changes, such as placing chapels in the outer aisles. The first chapel – Capilla de Villaviciosa – was built in 1371 and its multi-lobed arches are quite stunning. In 1523 began the construction of a tall cruciform church in the centre of the mosque building. Emperor Charles V had given unthinking permission for the construction. When he saw the result, he accused the cathedral builders: ‘You have built here what you or anyone might have built anywhere else, but you have destroyed what was unique in the world.’ Part of the Mezquita was destroyed to accommodate the cathedral; much of it survived and was transformed. And with its dazzling visual effect, the great mosque is still unique.

What is surprising is that, unlike so many other times, the reconquering Christians actually let the original Islamic building stand. They razed many to the ground. This great mosque and the Alhambra palace of Granada suffered privations, but even now they’re still standing, captivating emblems of Arabic history and culture.

Now you encounter the breath-taking forest of Islamic arches then the hodgepodge of styles (Gothic, Renaissance, Italian and Baroque) that comprise the Christian cathedral.  The Christian architects created a Latin cross shaped plan, ingeniously integrating the caliphal structures. The main altarpiece is covered by a vault inspired by the Sistine Chapel, with an unusual set of stalls. Outside, the Muslim courtyard was remodelled with the cloisters. Original palm trees – imported by the Caliphate – were replaced by orange trees in the fifteenth century. It has been argued that the Cathedral administration has preserved the great mosque, which is now a World Heritage Site.