Remote control, p.24
Remote Control, page 24
Kelly was starting to toss and turn, probably with pictures of McGear in her head.
I lay there looking at her. The girl had done well, without a doubt. The last few days had been chaos for her and I started to worry about it. Seven-year-old kids shouldn’t be exposed to this sort of shit. Nobody should. What would become of her? It suddenly occurred to me that I was worrying more about her than I was about myself.
I woke with the TV still on. I looked at my watch. Nine thirty-five. At midday Pat would be calling me. I hit the off button. I wanted to start mincing about with the laptop. I started to get up and found I could hardly move. I felt like an OAP as I lifted myself off the bed, my neck as stiff as a board.
I made a racket getting the laptop out of the holdall and plugging everything in, and Kelly started to wriggle around. By the time I’d got it up and running and connected to the back-up drive she was propped up on one elbow watching me. Her hair looked like an explosion. She listened for a while as I cursed at the laptop for not accessing the back-up drive, then said, ‘Why don’t you just reboot and then look at the program?’
I looked at her as if to say, You fucking smart arse! Instead, I said, ‘Mmm, maybe.’ I rebooted and it worked. I turned round and smiled at her and got one in return.
I started to scroll through the files. Instead of the businesslike file names I’d been expecting, the documents had code words like Weasel, Boy, Guru. A lot of them turned out to be spreadsheets or invoices – I could see what they were, but I didn’t know what they meant. To me, the whole forty or so pages might just as well have been in Japanese.
I then opened up another file called Dad. It was just dots and numbers across the screen. I turned to Kelly, ‘What’s that, then, smart guy?’
She looked. ‘I don’t know. I’m only seven; I don’t know everything.’
It was five minutes to noon. I turned on the phone and carried on flicking through the files, trying to make sense of them.
Twelve o’clock came and went.
By quarter past, the call still hadn’t happened. I was flapping. Come on, Pat, I need to get out of the US and back to Simmonds. I have enough information – maybe. The longer I stay now, the higher the risk. Pat, I need you!
For Slack to miss an RV there must be a major drama; even when he was high, he’d come up with the goods. I tried to block dark thoughts out of my head by telling myself that he’d call at the next arranged window. But as I carried on half-heartedly on the laptop I started to feel almost physically sick. My only way out had been lost. I had that awful sinking feeling that everything was going to go horribly wrong. I needed to do something.
I closed down the laptop and put the back-up disk in my pocket. Kelly was half buried under the covers, watching TV.
I joked, ‘Well, you know what I’m going to do in a minute, don’t you?’
She jumped out of bed and threw her arms around me, frowning. ‘Don’t go! Don’t go! We’ll watch the TV together, or I can come with you?’
‘You can’t do that, I want you to stay here.’
‘Please!’
What could I do? I felt her pain at being scared and alone. ‘OK, come with me – but you’ve got to do what I say.’
‘OK, OK!’ She jumped up and went to get her coat.
‘No, not yet!’ I pointed to the bathroom. ‘First things first. Get in that bath, wash your hair, come out and I’ll dry it, then you can get changed into your new clothes, and then we’ll go out. OK?’
She was trembling with excitement, like a dog about to go for walkies. ‘Yeah, OK!’ She skipped to the bathroom.
I sat down on the bed and shouted into the bathroom as I flicked through the news channels, ‘Kelly, make sure you brush your teeth or they’ll all fall out and you won’t be able to eat when you’re older.’
I heard ‘Yeah, yeah, OK.’
There was nothing more about McGear on the TV. After a while I walked into the bathroom. The toothpaste tube hadn’t been opened. ‘Have you brushed your teeth?’
She nodded, looking guilty.
I said, ‘Well, let’s have a smell.’ I bent down and put my nose near her mouth. ‘You haven’t. Come on, do you know how to brush your teeth?’
‘I know how to brush my teeth.’
‘Show me, then.’
She picked up the toothbrush. It was way too big for her mouth and she was brushing from side to side.
I said, ‘That’s not the way you’ve been taught, is it?’
She said, ‘Yes, it is!’
I shook my head slowly. I knew that she would have been taught properly. I said, ‘All right, we’ll do it together.’ I put some toothpaste on the brush and made her stand in front of the mirror. I stood beside her and she watched as I pretended to brush. Looking after kids was easy after all. It was all down to EDI: explanation, demonstration, imitation. Just that, instead of doing it with a weapon to a room full of recruits, I was doing it with a seven-year-old girl. ‘Now with me, like this, then brush round in little circles. And let’s make sure we do the backs.’
And then it got stupid. She started to laugh at the sight of me pretending to brush my teeth and, as she laughed, all the toothpaste sprayed from her mouth and onto the mirror. I laughed with her.
She finished her bath and changed into her new jeans and sweatshirt. I’d also bought us matching baseball hats at the mart, black denim with the words, Washington, DC.
I wet my hair and washed, and we both looked sparkly clean. She put on her new blue coat and trainers and we were ready to go. My plan was to get to the vicinity of Pat’s apartment. When he rang at six o’clock, we’d be able to meet straight away.
What was I going to do with the back-up disk? I decided to hide it in the room, because I was going to split my gold: if the back-up stayed here, and Kelly came with me and we were lifted, at least they wouldn’t have the job lot. The long, dark-wood sideboard with the TV on top covered a third of the room; it was about two feet high and rested on little half-inch legs. I lifted one corner, gaffer-taped the disk to the underside and positioned a couple of tell-tales. One last look around the room and we left.
It was still drizzling and was slightly colder than earlier in the morning. Kelly was on cloud nine; I reciprocated her smiles and happy noises, but underneath I was flapping about Pat. As we crossed the grass to avoid reception I wondered about phoning Euan. I decided not to. Not yet anyway. I might need him later. He was a card to keep up my sleeve.
The whole area was dotted with hotels. We walked across the road to one about 400 metres away, and I went into the lobby and ordered a taxi. Kelly waited outside under the awning.
As I came out again I said, ‘When we get into this taxi I’m going to put your hood up and I want you to rest against me as if you’re sleepy. Remember, you promised you’d do exactly what I said.’
The taxi turned up and took us to Georgetown. Kelly leaned against me and I got her nuzzled in on my lap with her hood up so it hid her.
We got out on Wisconsin. It was four o’clock and everybody around us looked so normal as they chatted, strolled and enjoyed their shopping. We spent the next hour or so walking and snacking. By 5.30 the Georgetown mall where we were sitting was quite warm and we were both feeling sleepy.
I was having a coffee, she was having a milk shake, which she wasn’t touching because by now she was full of burger. I looked at the display of my watch every half-minute until it was 5.55. Then I switched on the phone. Good battery level, good signal strength.
Six o’clock came.
Nothing.
A minute past.
Two minutes past.
I sat there almost paralysed with disbelief. Kelly was absorbed in a comic she’d picked out for herself.
Four minutes past. This was desperate. Pat wouldn’t let me down unless he couldn’t help it. He knew as well as I did that, on operations, if you’re a minute late you might as well be an hour or a day late, because people’s lives might depend on it. The attack might have had to go in, unsupported by your covering fire.
There must be a problem. A major problem.
I kept the phone switched on. Finally, at 6.20 I said, ‘Come on, Kelly, we’re going to visit Pat.’
Now the normality stopped. There was shit on. All hope had evaporated.
28
WE CAME OUT of the mall and I flagged down a cab.
Riverwood turned out to be a well-established, upmarket area, rows of weatherboarded houses with neat lawns and a couple of European cars in the drive, and smart apartment blocks with underground parking. The shops reflected its wealth, with good bookshops, expensive-looking clothes boutiques and small art galleries.
I stopped the cab a block past Pat’s street. I paid him off and he left us in the light rain. It was getting dark, a bit earlier than it should have done, but the cloud cover made everything gloomy. Some cars already had their headlights on.
‘Let’s hope Pat’s in,’ I said, ‘otherwise we’ll have to go all the way back to the hotel without saying hello!’
She looked excited about meeting him. After all, this was the man I’d said would help her go back home. I couldn’t be sure if what I had said about her family had sunk in. I didn’t even know if kids of that age understood what death was and, if they did, that it was irreversible.
Looking up the hill, I could see that Pat’s street was pure Riverwood, broad and elegant, with houses and shops that had been there for years. Above the skyline one or two new apartment blocks seemed to be taking over, but even they looked very ordered, clean and wealthy. I wasn’t entirely sure which one he lived in, but it was easy enough to count the numbers and work it out. We walked past, and I had a clear view into the rear secure car park. I saw the red Mustang, redder than Satan’s bollocks. It was 7.15. If he was there, why the fuck hadn’t he phoned?
We went into a coffee shop opposite. The waft of newly ground beans and the blare of rumba music inside La Colombina took me straight back to Bogotá; maybe that was why Pat had chosen to live here. We wanted a window seat, which wasn’t a problem. The glass was misted up; I cleared a circle with a paper napkin and sat and watched.
Kelly was doing what she had been told, keeping quiet until I told her not to be. Anyway, Girl! magazine seemed the thing to shut kids up with. I checked the phone. Good signal, plenty of power.
A waitress came over to take our order. I was going to ask for food, even though I didn’t really want it, because it would take time to prepare it, and then it would take time to eat it, and that way we could spend more time here without it looking unnatural.
‘I’ll take a club and a large cappuccino,’ I said. ‘And what do you want, Josie?’
Kelly beamed at the waitress. ‘Do you do Shirley Temples?’
‘Sure we do, honey!’
It sounded like a cocktail to me, but the waitress went away quite happily to order it. Kelly went back to her magazine and I just kept looking out of the window.
The drinks arrived. When we were alone again I said, ‘What is that?’
‘Cherries and strawberries, mixed with Sprite.’
‘Sounds disgusting. I’d better try some.’
It tasted like bubble gum to me, but it was obviously what kids liked. She was slugging it down good-style.
The sandwich mountain arrived. I didn’t need it, but I ate it anyway. In my days in the Regiment and since, I’d learned to think of food the way an infantryman thinks of sleep. Get it down you whenever you get the chance.
Things were running their natural course in the coffee shop; it was now coming up for three-quarters of an hour that we’d been sitting there, and you can only stay in a place for so long without arousing suspicion or drowning in coffee.
Kelly made the decision for me as she spoke. ‘What are we going to do now?’
I put some cash down on the table. ‘Let’s zip you up and see if Pat is at home.’
We went out and walked past Pat’s apartment once more. The car was still there. I was desperate to know one way or another what was going on. If it was just that he didn’t want to play any more, fair one. But I couldn’t really see that; I knew that he wanted to help. There was a problem, without a doubt. But I needed it confirmed; then I could reassess and make a plan without him in it.
As we walked back down the hill Kelly said, ‘Do you actually know where Pat lives?’
‘Yes, I do, but I know he’s not there yet. We’ve just walked past his place and I couldn’t see him.’
‘Can’t you phone him?’
I couldn’t contact him directly; if the phone was tapped I didn’t want anyone to make the connection between us. I’d promised not to compromise him. But she’d just given me an idea all the same.
‘Kelly, do you want to help me play a trick on Pat?’
‘Oh yeah!’
‘OK, this is what I want you to do.’
We carried on walking and started to do a circuit around the area. We practised and practised, until she said she was ready to go. We got to a phone box about three blocks away, a half-sized booth attached to the wall. I brought the receiver down to Kelly’s level. ‘Ready?’
She gave me a thumbs up. She was excited; she thought this was great.
I dialled 911, and about three seconds later Kelly was shouting, ‘Yes, I’ve just seen a man! I’ve just seen a man on the second floor, 1121 Twenty-seventh Street and … and … he’s got a gun and the man’s shot, and … and … and he’s got a gun – please help!’
I put my hand on the hook.
‘Good one! Now, shall we go and see what happens next?’
I picked a different route back. This time we were going to approach from the top of the hill and walk down towards the apartment block. By now it was properly dark and still very wet. Heads bent in the rain, we made it to Twenty-seventh Street, turned right and started walking slowly down the hill.
I heard the siren first, louder and louder, then the flash of its emergency lights as a blue-and-white sped past us. Then I saw other blue and red lights, all flashing in the darkness in the area of the apartment block.
As we got closer I made out three police cars. An unmarked car also turned up, a portable light flashing on the roof, just above the driver.
We walked further down and stopped at a bus stop. All I was doing was watching and waiting – much like everybody else, as a small crowd had gathered.
‘Are they all coming for Pat?’ Kelly asked.
I was too busy feeling depressed to answer; the sight of an ambulance arriving had pole-axed me. I stroked her head over her coat hood.
‘I’ll tell you about it in a minute. Just let me watch what’s happening.’
We waited, like everyone else. A quarter of an hour went by. By now local TV news crews were turning up. Then I saw them come out – two boys with a trolley, and on top was a corpse in a body bag. I didn’t have to see the face to know who was inside. I only hoped it had been quick for him, but, judging by the condition of the Browns, I had a terrible feeling that it hadn’t.
I said quietly, ‘We’re going to go now, Kelly. Pat’s not there tonight.’
I felt as if one of my most treasured possessions had been stolen from under my nose and I knew that I’d never get it back. Our friendship had been rekindled after all these years and this was the price he had paid for it. I felt lost and desperate, as if I’d got detached from the rest of my patrol in hostile territory, without a map or a weapon, and no hint of which way to go. He had been a true friend. Even after all these years of not seeing each other I would miss the man with no arse.
As Pat was being loaded into the ambulance I forced myself to cut away from the emotion. I turned and started to walk back down the way we’d come, to avoid the police. One of the cars had now left with its siren going and the ambulance was just about to. I imagined the scene-of-the-crime people inside the apartment, putting on their coveralls and unpacking their gear. Again I tried to cut away, make myself look at the situation logically: Pat was gone, now all I had left was Euan. But it was much harder to do than it normally was.
We took the first left to get off the main drag and I listened as the ambulance siren twice went off to manoeuvre in the traffic. We carried on along the road. It wasn’t a main thoroughfare and was residential on both sides, large houses with wide stone staircases leading up to the front doors.
I had Kelly’s hand and we were walking without talking.
Feelings about Pat had no place in my mind at the moment. What mattered was what information he could have given about us to whoever had zapped him. PIRA or Luther and co, who could tell? It had to be one or the other. Assuming his death was connected with me, of course. Fuck knows what else he could have been up to. However, I had to work on the basis that whoever killed him wanted to know where we were. All Pat knew was the phone number and that I was planning on going into the PIRA office. OPSEC might have saved our lives.
I was thinking so hard that at first the voice didn’t really register. Then I thought it was Kelly, and I was going to give her hand a bit of a squeeze and tell her to be quiet and let me think. But then it spoke again, a man’s voice, low and resolute, and this time there was no mistaking the words.
‘Freeze. If you move, I’ll kill you. Stay exactly where you are. Do not move.’
It wasn’t a druggy voice; it wasn’t a young nervous voice; it was a voice that was in total control.
29
I KEPT MY hands where they were.
Kelly flung her arms around my waist.
‘It’s OK, it’s all right. They aren’t going to hurt you,’ I lied like a cheap watch.
His footsteps moved from behind me and to the left. He must have come from the service alley that ran behind the houses we’d just passed.
He said, ‘You have two choices. Get smart by keeping still. Get dead by moving.’ The voice was late twenties, early thirties, precise, well drilled.
