Remote control, p.10
Remote Control, page 10
‘Can I watch TV?’
Thank God for that.
I reached over to the remote and quickly flicked the channels, checking I wasn’t going to catch us both on the news. I found Nickelodeon and stuck with it.
I’d made a decision. ‘I’m going out now to buy us something to eat,’ I said, my mind on the one option that hadn’t yet been closed. ‘You stay here, the same as before. I’ll put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door and you make sure that you don’t open it for anybody. Do you understand?’
She nodded.
The call box was next to a Korean food store. It was still drizzling; I could hear the noise of car tyres on wet tarmac as I crossed the road.
I pushed in a couple of quarters and dialled.
I got: ‘Good evening. British Embassy. How may I help you?’
‘I’d like to speak to the defence attaché, please.’
‘May I say who’s calling?’
‘My name is Stamford.’ Fuck it, I had nothing to lose.
‘Thank you. One moment, please.’
Almost immediately, a no-nonsense voice came on the line. ‘Stamford?’
‘Yes.’
‘Wait.’
There was a long continuous tone, and I was starting to think I’d been cut off again. Then, thirty seconds later, I heard Simmonds. My call must have been patched through to London. Unflappable as ever, he said, ‘It seems you’re in a spot of trouble.’
‘Trouble’s not the word.’
In veiled speech I told him everything that had happened since my last call.
Simmonds listened without interruption, then said, ‘There’s not really a lot I can do. Obviously you understand the situation I’m in?’ I could tell he was pissed off with me big-style. ‘You were told to return immediately. You disobeyed an order. You should not have gone to see him, you know that.’ He was still cool about it all, but under the veneer I knew he was boiling.
I could just picture him behind his desk in his crumpled shirt and baggy cords, with the family photo and maybe Easter eggs for his family on his desk, next to a pile of red-hot faxes from Washington that had to be attended to.
‘It’s got nothing on the situation I can put you in,’ I said. ‘I’ve got stuff that would make your lot look not very British at all. I’ll blow it to whoever wants to listen. It’s not a bluff. I need help to get out of this shit and I want it now.’
There was a pause; the patient parent waiting for a child to stop its tantrum.
He said, ‘Your position is pretty delicate, I’m afraid. There is nothing I can do unless you have some form of proof that you’re not implicated. I suggest you make every effort to discover what has happened and why, then we can talk and I might be able to help. How does that sound to you? You can carry out your threat, but I wouldn’t recommend it.’
I could feel his hand tighten around my balls. Whether they complied or called my bluff, I’d be spending the rest of my life on the run. The Firm does not like being strong-armed.
‘I’ve got no choice really, have I?’
‘I’m glad you see it like that. Bring what you find.’
The phone went dead.
My mind racing, I wandered into the shop. I bought a bottle of hair tint – one wash in, twelve washes out – and a hair-trimmer gadget. I also bought a full washing and shaving kit because we couldn’t look like a couple of scruffies at large in Washington. Then I filled the basket with bottles of Coca-Cola from the chiller and some apples and candy.
I couldn’t find a Micky D’s and ended up in a Burger King. I bought two mega-deals, then went back to the hotel.
I knocked on the door as I opened it. ‘Guess what I’ve got? Burgers, fries, apple pies, hot chocolate …’
By the wall next to the window was a little circular table. The carrier bags went on the bed, and I dumped the burgers on the table with a flourish, like a returning hunter. Ripping the bags open to make a tablecloth, I tipped the chips out, opened the sauce, and we both dived in. She must have been starving.
I waited until she had a mouthful of burger. ‘Listen, Kelly, you know how grown-up girls are always dyeing their hair and cutting it and all sorts of stuff? I thought you might like to try.’
She didn’t look fussed.
‘What do you fancy – a really dark brown?’
She shrugged.
I wanted to get it done before she understood too much of what was happening. The moment she’d finished her hot apple pie, I led her to the bathroom and got her to take off her shirt and vest. I tested the shower temperature and leaned her over the bath, quickly wet her hair, then towelled and brushed it. I got the trimmer going, but I wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing. I realized it was for beards really, and by the time I’d got the hang of it her hair looked shit. The more I tried to sort it, the shorter it was getting. Soon it was up around her collar.
As I studied the bottle of dye, trying to read the instructions, she said, ‘Nick?’
I was still reading the bottle and hoping I wasn’t about to turn her hair into a ginger fuzzball.
‘What?’
‘Do you know the men who were chasing you?’
I was the one who should have been asking questions.
‘No, I don’t, Kelly, but I will find out.’ I thought about it and put down the hair dye. I was standing behind her and both of us were looking at each other in the mirror. Her eyes were now not so red around the edges. That only made mine even more dark and tired-looking. I looked at her a while longer. Finally, I said, ‘Kelly, why did you go to the hidey-hole?’
She said nothing. I could see that her eyes were starting to question my hairdressing skills.
‘Did Daddy shout “Disneyland”?’
‘No.’
‘Then why did you go?’ Already this was getting too intense for me. I needed to do something. I picked up the dye.
‘Because of the noise.’
I started to comb the dye in.
‘Oh, what noise was that?’
She looked at me in the mirror. ‘I was in the kitchen but I heard a bad noise in the living room and I went and looked.’
‘What did you see?’
‘Daddy was shouting at the men and they were hitting him.’
‘Did they see you?’
‘I don’t know, I didn’t go into the room. I just wanted to shout to Mommy to come and help Daddy.’
‘And what did you do?’
Her eyes went down. ‘I couldn’t help him, I’m too little.’ When she looked up again, I saw her face was burning with shame. Her bottom lip started to quiver. ‘I ran to the hidey-hole. I wanted to go to Mommy, but she was upstairs with Aida, and Daddy was shouting at the men.’
‘You ran to the hidey-hole?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you stay there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did Mummy come and call for you?’
‘No. You did.’
‘So you didn’t see Mummy and Aida?’
‘No.’
The picture of the two of them dead flashed into my mind.
I put my arms around her as she sobbed. ‘Kelly, you couldn’t have helped Daddy. Those men were too big and strong. Probably I couldn’t have helped him, and I’m a grown-up. It’s not your fault Daddy got hurt. But he is OK and wants me to look after you until he is better. Mummy and Aida had to go with Daddy. There just wasn’t the time to collect you.’
I let her cry a bit, then said, ‘Did you see any of the men who were chasing us today?’
She shook her head.
‘Did the men who were with Daddy have suits on?’
‘I suppose so, but they had like painting things on top.’
I guessed what she meant. ‘The sort Daddy would wear to paint the house?’ I did the actions of putting on a pair of DIY coveralls.
She nodded.
‘So do you mean they had suits on, but had the painting things over the top?’
She nodded again.
I knew it; these boys were good, they were players. They hadn’t wanted to get nasty red stuff all over their nice suits.
I asked her how many men there were and what they looked like. She was confused and scared. Her lip started to quiver again. ‘Can I go home soon?’ She was fighting back the tears.
‘Yes, very soon, very soon. When Daddy is better. Until then, I’m looking after you. Come on, Kelly, let’s make you look like a big girl.’
After a rinse I combed her wet hair and got her dressed straight away in her new clothes. If we had to move, I needed her dressed, so I told her that the only things she could keep off were her hat, coat and shoes.
She inspected herself in the mirror. The new clothes were much too big and her hair was – well, she didn’t seem too sure.
We watched Nickelodeon and eventually she fell asleep. I lay staring at the ceiling, going through the options or, rather, trying to kid myself that I had some.
What about Slack Pat? He would certainly help if he could, as long as he hadn’t turned into some drugged-up New Age hippy. But the only way I could think of contacting him was through the restaurant he used to rave about. The way he described it, he practically lived there. The problem was I couldn’t remember the name of it, just that it was on a hill on the edge of Georgetown.
What about Euan? He was no good yet because he’d still be operating in Ulster and there was no way I could make contact with him until he was back on the mainland.
I looked over at Kelly. That was how she would have to live for the next little while, always dressed, ready to run at a moment’s notice. I put the eiderdown over her.
I piled all the rubbish together and put it in the bin, then checked the sign was still on the door and her shoes were in her pockets. I checked chamber in both weapons – the 9mm in Kev’s jacket and the Sig in my waistband. No doubt Kelly was going to be in all of tomorrow’s papers, but at least, if the shit hit the fan, we were ready to go. I knew my escape route and would not hesitate to shoot my way out.
I got my new clothes out of the bag and took them into the bathroom. I had a shave, then undressed. I stank; Kev’s things were stained on the inside with blood. The sweat had thinned it, spreading it right up the back and shoulders of his shirt and the legs of his jeans. Everything went into a plastic laundry bag, which I’d throw away in the morning. I had a long hot shower and washed my hair. Then I got dressed, checked the door lock and lay on the bed.
I woke up at about five thirty in the morning, after a terrible night’s sleep. I wasn’t sure if all the bad stuff was a dream.
I thought again about money. I definitely couldn’t use credit cards because I had to assume they’d either been frozen or would be used as a trace. It was cash or nothing – not easy in the West nowadays. Pat, if I got to him, would fund me, but I knew I’d have to take advantage of any spare time to get hold of more. Kelly was snoring big-time. I picked up the key card, gently closed the door behind me, checked the sign was up and went looking for a fire extinguisher.
12
AS I PASSED the open door to the cleaners’ store room I spotted half a dozen wedge-shaped doorstops on a shelf. I helped myself to a couple.
I found the fire extinguisher on the wall by the elevators. I quickly unscrewed the top of it and removed the carbon dioxide cylinder, a 9-inch black steel tube. I put it in my jacket and walked back to the room.
I put the three spare magazines for the Sig .45 in the left-hand pocket of Kev’s jacket and decided I was going to keep the USP in the room. I hid it in the cistern. A weapon can stand getting wet in the short term. I just didn’t want Kelly to find it and start putting holes in herself.
I dozed some more, woke up and dozed again. By 7 a.m. I was bored and hungry. Breakfast was included in the room price, but to get it I’d have to go downstairs to reception.
Kelly started to stir. I said, ‘Good morning. Do you fancy something to eat?’
She was all yawny, sitting up and looking like a scarecrow because she’d gone to sleep with wet hair. Straight away I put on the TV for her because I didn’t really know what to say. She looked down at her clothes, trying to work it out.
‘You fell asleep,’ I laughed. ‘I couldn’t even undress you last night. Hey, it’s like camping, isn’t it?’
She liked that. ‘Yeah,’ she smiled, still sleepy.
‘Shall I go and get you some breakfast?’
She didn’t look up, just nodded at the television.
‘Remember, you must do this every time; you never, ever open the door. I’ll come back using the key. Don’t even open the curtains, because the cleaning ladies will think it’s OK to come in, and we don’t want to talk to anyone, do we? I’ll leave the Do Not Disturb sign, OK?’
She nodded. I wasn’t sure how much of it had gone in. I picked up the tray the ice bucket was on, put on my glasses and went down to reception.
It was already fairly packed: people with camper vans, who couldn’t be arsed to sleep in them, and salesmen looking clean, fresh and straight out of the ‘appearance counts’ section of the manual.
The breakfast area was made up of two or three tables by the coffee flasks under the TV. I took three packets of cereal, bagels and muffins, some apples, then two cups of coffee and an orange juice.
The corn child had just finished her shift and came over. ‘I hope everything goes well with your passports and all,’ she smiled, helping herself to a bagel.
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine. We’re just going to concentrate on having a good holiday.’
‘If you need any help, you just come and ask.’
‘Thanks.’ I walked over to the desk and picked up a complimentary USA Today. I also helped myself to a Roadies Inn book of matches from a whole bowl of them and a paper clip that was in an ashtray full of elastic bands and office bits, and went back to the room.
Ten minutes later Kelly was munching on her cereal and glued to Nickelodeon.
I said, ‘I’m going out for about an hour. I’ve got stuff to do. While I’m away I want you to have a wash and be all nice and clean for when I get back, and have your hair brushed. Are you going to be all right on your own, with your big-girl haircut?’
She shrugged. ‘Whatever.’
‘What are your favourite colours?’
‘My favourite colours are pink and blue.’
‘Well, we’ve got the pink.’ I pointed at the coat hanging up with her shoes sticking out of the pockets. That had been a bit of luck. ‘Now I’ve got to get you something blue.’
I gave my glasses a quick clean with toilet paper, put them back in their case and into Kev’s jacket, then put my long black raincoat over the top, checking the pocket for the cylinder. I emptied my pockets of loose change – I wanted to cut down on noise and always felt better anyway with as little as possible dragging around my clothes.
I had my Kangol hat in my hand and was all ready to go.
‘I won’t be long. Remember, let no-one in. I’ll be back before you know it.’
It had stopped raining, but the sky was still grey and the ground wet. The road was choked with cars heading into downtown DC. It’s a people town and the sidewalks were busy, too.
I walked briskly to keep pace with the office workers, all with their ‘got to get up, got to get on’ expressions, all the time looking for the ideal place to make some money quickly and get back to the hotel before Kelly started panicking.
It was too early for a shopping mall, since they didn’t open until tenish, and I wasn’t in an area with a lot of hotels – they were all further downtown. There were fast-food outlets, but they normally had just one way in and out, and too much toilet traffic, so they wouldn’t be a good choice. A service station would do, so long as it had an outside rest room that could only be opened by a key obtained from the pay desk.
I’d been walking around for maybe twenty minutes. I walked through a couple of filling stations that were busy enough, but they were modern, with inside toilets.
Eventually I found what I was looking for, an outdoor toilet with a sign on the door that said, ‘Key At Paydesk’. I checked to ensure that the door was locked, then I walked on.
I was looking for two things now: for somewhere natural to watch the forecourt from, and for my escape route. Further up, on the other side of the road, was a run of lawyers’ offices, credit unions and insurance brokers, in wonderful 1930s detached brick houses; in between were what looked like well-used alleyways. I crossed over, walked down one and came out onto the parallel road; turning right, I followed the road to a junction, turned left, then right again up another alleyway. The whole area was perfect for angles and distance. I made my way back to the filling station by a different route.
There was a bus stop across the street about 100 metres away. I strolled along to it, stood in a doorway and waited; it had to look natural, I had to have a reason to be doing what I was doing. There were two or three people waiting, then the queue gradually got longer, a bus came and we were back to two or three again. I looked at the destination board of each bus as it approached, looked fed up that it wasn’t the one I wanted and got back in the doorway.
People don’t carry much cash with them nowadays, especially here in the land of the credit card. The ideal target is always a tourist – they tend to carry more cash and traveller’s cheques – but there weren’t likely to be many in this part of town.
Over a period of about thirty minutes there’d been four or five possibles going in to fill up their cars, but unfortunately it seemed that none of them was in need of a shit. I thought about Kelly; I hoped she was sticking to the script.
A white guy in his twenties drove onto the forecourt in a new Camaro. It carried thirty-day plates while waiting for the new registration. He was wearing a baggy shell suit that was red, blue, green, orange and six other colours, and basketball shoes to match. His hair was shaved at the sides with the rest pointing skywards. The sound system was booming out bass that I could feel vibrating from across the street.
He filled up with fuel and went in to pay. When he came out he was carrying what looked like a small lump of wood. He turned left towards the toilet. This was my boy.
