On a beautiful Monday evening, the sun dropped low behind the buildings in Aleppo. My translator Antoine and I made the journey across the city of Aleppo to meet Khaled, an Iraqi-born journalist who is based in Syria.

Never a safe trip across the war-torn city but we had faith in the driver. Antoine as always was very careful when deciding about the hiring of taxis.

Khaled was restricted in his travels around Syria, not just Aleppo but the whole country, as there was a threat to his life.

The excitement was building up inside me. We were about to meet someone who was going to do an interview. A man who knew a lot of what was happening in a city that was once a city full of shopping districts that never slept. Now, much of that city is reduced to rubble.

We had to meet him at a place where he felt safe. He decided and we were going to be told in due course. At this stage, we had no idea where. Our driver was in contact with his people and within about five minutes of the meeting time, the location was disclosed. It was going to be a cafe.

When we finally arrived at the venue, we were quickly ushered to the back room. A long narrow room with five tables and enough chairs for each table.

Khaled arrived shortly after accompanied by his three bodyguards. Big men, casual dressed and very organised.

With no time wasted, the bodyguards took up positions around the room. One sat beside Khaled, directly opposite where we were sitting around a small wooden table.

 "You will see something that will open your eyes"

With no time wasted, the meeting commenced with the usual introductions. Khaled spoke about the three guys protecting him, "I fear for my life, I am not safe anywhere. These men protect me" he explained. 

During our chat which lasted about ninety minutes, we discussed many topics. Khaled suggested that I should meet with him the following morning and go to a location in Aleppo. An area that was still 'out of bounds.

He said to me, "You will see something that will open my eyes." After some careful thinking, I agreed. He made it quite clear that it had to be an early start as we should be inside and out by nine in the morning, just before the army and their senior ranks arrived

At 7 am on Tuesday, a car arrived to collect both of us. I would never be picked up outside our safe house for security reasons, always a distance away from the building.

We were driven through the city, a journey lasting about thirty-five minutes. The streets were quiet, though plenty of evidence of checkpoints on most of the side streets. Soldiers standing at their sentries with guns in hand and ready should they be needed.

Arrived at the area that was sealed off by the military at the time. It was early morning, a lone guard stood at the entrance of what could only be described as devastation.

In less than a couple of hours, this area would be crowded with the military; soldiers, and officers of all ranks. So, we needed to get in and out of that particular area as fast as we could.

“Are you an Irish photojournalist?”

After a brief wait, which seemed much longer as I sat a little nervous in the back seat on the driver's side of the silver car.

It's always good to be a little nervous, I believe it keeps you on your toes. No place for complacency, always needs your wits about you. 

Next to me was Antoine, a confident guy, nothing ever seemed to make him nervous.

We sat there silently observing the activity outside the vehicle, about 100 yards away. Khaled was all hands, showing the military man some documentation and the odd time pointing across towards us while both men glanced in our direction.

At last, the soldier approached the car. We were introduced to the army man.

Taking the passport from my inside pocket, I handed the travel permit to the soldier via the driver.

Always at checkpoints, passports and other documents are usually handed to the military personnel via the driver of the car in which you are traveling.

Checking my credentials he asked without taking his eyes off my passport. 

“You are an Irish photojournalist?”

“Yes, I am,” I replied.  A few more questions followed, and I responded to all confidently. He seemed satisfied and we were allowed to progress past the checkpoint.

As we went from room to room we discovered medical supplies, full bottles of medication, believed to be worth thousands of dollars dispersed across the floor and on tables of the chaotic building.

Yes, it did send a shiver up my spine

We had to walk on medical supplies to make our way through the building.

Coming into the last room I noticed a back door leading to a small yard. Close by were several other vacated buildings. Of course, we had to have a look.

These were offices used by local Syrian Charites. We also found documents etc scattered all over the room.

But to my shock, some of these documents were application forms to join Daesh. And Jabhat al Nusra slogan painting on the walls of several rooms.

Mattresses on the floor, are evidence of where these people slept. Walking through the rooms one would get an eerie feeling. Yes, it did send a shiver up my spine.

Once we were finished, I needed to know more. I suggested to Khaled that we should meet somewhere for a coffee and discuss what I had just witnessed. He agreed.

It was almost a quarter to nine, bearing in mind the agreement we made with the guard, I headed to the car with Khaled and Antoine following a short distance behind.

A few minutes later the driver's door opened and the cabbie sat in his seat. We departed the area and headed to a café in central Aleppo. Khaled and I spent a few hours discussing further the morning's findings.