by Seb Kirby
And, Julia knew, she’d just saved a woman’s life.
The Polish girl in reception came on the line. “Yes?”
Julia kept it short. “There’s been an incident. Room 306. Call the police. I think a man’s been killed there.”
It was instinct, it was common sense or both but Julia knew she couldn’t stay here. They’d tried police protection and it had led to this. James had disappeared. She’d been found here. The people she was up against had compromised the authorities to the extent that she could no longer trust them. For the sake of their child she couldn’t allow herself to become a target again and that meant keeping away from the police as much as the Landos.
Julia put down the phone. “Moira, I want you to help me one more time.” Julia picked up the pen from beside the phone, wrote a message on the hotel notepad and handed it to the girl.
“QR4. Is that it?”
“There’s a special person in my life. My husband. He’s called James. I believe he’ll find a way of coming back here to find me. Wait an hour and then leave this message for him at reception.”
Moira nodded. “No problem. What does it mean?”
“He’ll know. He’s the only one who’ll know what it means.”
Chapter 66
When the Texas Eagle pulled into Fort Worth we’d been traveling for just over four hours and Austin, a place I thought I would never be able to leave, was now well behind us. We could be certain Heller had given up the chase, at least in the short term. Our thoughts turned to the airport and the flight to London.
Getting out to Dallas-Fort Worth airport from the station by taxi was straightforward. Miles’ cash saw to that. We hopped a Yellow Cab. We spoke little on the journey, concerned at what the driver might overhear.
Once we were inside the terminal building, the first priority was to find a public phone and call Julia.
Miles gave me coins. I fed them into the phone and dialed. When the call was answered, it wasn’t the Polish receptionist on the line but a different Eastern European voice.
“Is this an emergency call?”
“I’m calling to be put through to my wife, Elizabeth Meredith.”
“I’m sorry, sir, we’re only taking emergency calls right now. Please call back later.”
“You won’t put me through?”
“I’m sorry, emergencies only.”
I closed the phone line and looked at my brother. “Miles. We still don’t have contact. What kind of emergency means they don’t want to forward your call? Something’s wrong.”
Miles offered what help he could. “You don’t know that, Jim. One thing’s certain; we need to get you back over there. There’s not a lot we can do from here. And now we’ve made it here, you need know that what happens next involves risk. I need to make sure you’re aware of that. It’s not too late to change, to find some other way of getting back to London.”
I didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. “I need to get back. Not in a few days, by some other route, but now. And a ’plane from here is the quickest way.”
“OK, Jim. But this has to be about Craven and just what he did to bring you out here.”
“You mean how legit or otherwise it was?”
Miles frowned. “If he did this legit, you’re on the database as being admitted to the US as Charles Harrington with a little marker saying you’re an FBI client. The moment you show up at departures, you’ll be arrested.”
“And if what Craven is doing is black ops?”
“Then, he may have found a way of bypassing the normal immigration procedure.”
“He brought me in on a military transport into a military airport. No one was interested enough to check my ID.”
“But, Jim, that doesn’t mean your entry wasn’t logged. It could have happened if Craven wanted it that way.”
“He had every reason to keep quiet about me. From what you’ve told me about Tijuana, he’d need to limit who knew what he was doing.”
“OK. But we can’t be sure what he placed on the system about you.”
“So that’s the risk.”
Miles nodded.
I wasn’t shaken in my resolve to get back to Julia. “It’s a risk I have to take. And there’s only one way to find out.”
Miles hadn’t finished. “It doesn’t end there. I’m going to have to use a card to get money to buy the ’plane tickets. After seeing me in Austin, we don’t know if Craven hasn’t placed a marker or even a stop on my cards.”
“Another risk. But I don’t think he’ll have been able to do it yet. Banks don’t work to that time scale.”
“Then, Jim, there’s your 1-94 card. Show me your passport.”
I broke the news to him. “Miles, I don’t have a passport. When they pulled me off the street, I didn’t have it with me. The Harrington passports were left with Julia back in the hotel.”
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out two passports. “Julia thought of that. She gave me the passport when she knew I was coming over here.”
I smiled in relief. “That’s a load off my mind.”
Miles began leafing through the pages of the Harrington passport. “It’s not that easy. You should have an 1-94 stapled into one of the pages. You need to give it up when you leave the States. You don’t have one.”
He showed me the white card stapled into his own passport. “It’s an arrival-departure record and it should have been stapled into your passport when you entered the US. It’s how they keep a record of who comes and goes. Craven bypassed that when he brought you in. If you turn up at departures without the card, they’re not going to let you on the flight.”
I should have known this. I could feel the optimism draining away that I could be back in London. I could feel my body beginning to sink under the weight of the stress of being the bait in the trap at the Warren Richardson and the trauma of escaping Heller at the abandoned train station. I felt the hammer blow to my heart at the realization that I might not see Julia again.
I could see why Miles needed to talk. “So, I don’t have a way back. I have to stay here.”
Miles paused and looked away as two airport security police came near. Everything about their manner suggested they were on heightened alert but their gaze didn’t settle on us. When they’d walked past without concerning themselves with us, Miles continued. “There may be a way. I want you to promise me you’ll consider this without worrying about what will happen to me.”
“I promise.”
“Mean it.”
“OK. I mean it.”
Miles gave a wide smile. “You could go as me. There’s something Luiz Reyas said back in Albuquerque. He knew you were my brother after one sight of you at the Warren Richardson. We look enough alike for you to pass through departures as me.”
He showed me his passport again. “Look at the photograph. You could pass for me. And here’s the thing, it takes an age to get into this country but there are no official checks when you leave. There’s nothing like the same level of scrutiny on departure as on arrival. When you leave, it’s down to the airline to verify that you’re who you say you are and to collect the card and send it back to the borders agency.”
“That takes place at the airline departure desk?”
“Yes. Choose a time when the airline attendants are busy. Act like this is matter of fact. Act like you belong. Like you expect to get on the ’plane. The attendant will take a quick look at the passport and then a quick look at you. Then they’ll look for an 1-94 and here it is in my passport along with my work visa stamp that comes with the job with the newspaper. There’s a risk you’ll get one of the fussy types who won’t buy it but they’re busy and there’s more than a good chance they’ll just scan in the ID page of the passport and issue the boarding pass. Just one more check on the passport when they call for boarding and you’re away.”
“What about you, Miles? You’ll be stuck here with my Harrington passport.”
“
Don’t worry about me. It might take me some time but I’ll find a way back. The newspaper will help.”
“I don’t like your putting yourself in harm’s way again like this. Not for me. You’ve done enough.”
“If not you, Jim, then for Julia.”
“I don’t want to leave you here, stranded.”
“You promised you wouldn’t consider what would happen to me. And a promise between brothers is a promise to be kept.”
“You’re making this hard for me.”
“It’s your call, Jim. I’ll go along with whatever you decide.”
I didn’t like the idea of leaving Miles stranded but I knew I had to accept his offer. It wasn’t just that I needed to escape Craven – we both needed to do that. More important was the need to know Julia was safe.
I hugged my brother. There was no need to tell him how much this meant to me.
I thought back to our days as children in Birmingham, how we’d faced together the rage of our father, Danny, as he worked off on his family the trauma suffered at war. It had made us close as we conspired as best we could to take away some of the anger directed at our mother. We were blood brothers. The greater the anger, the closer we became. Yet we’d moved apart as adult life took over, Miles with his international travel, me with my radio work and my love for Julia. The events of three years ago in Florence had threatened to destroy the relationship for good. Now we were blood brothers once more.
He stepped back. “I’m glad you’ve seen sense. Let’s get you on the flight.”
We found an automatic ticket machine in the main departure area, close to where passengers with luggage were waiting in line to collect boarding passes. Miles began searching for a London-bound flight.
“That’s good news. There’s Economy Class available on the next flight. Departs in just over an hour.”
Miles logged in with his credit card. There was a pause as the machine made an authentication check. Craven had not been able to block the card in time, as I thought. The transaction passed. The machine produced the ticket.
“That’s the first hurdle passed.” Miles handed me the ticket. “You don’t have luggage, so you can get your boarding pass upstairs nearer departure time.”
We knew we were going to have to part in less than an hour. Once I went flight-side and he remained here, I didn’t know when I’d see him again.
The plan was for me to go flight-side fifteen minutes before take off when the attendants would be at their busiest. We had thirty-five minutes together.
Miles used the credit card at an ATM to withdraw as much cash as it would allow. It reminded me of leaving Weymouth in what seemed an age ago now when I’d done the same. He came back with a wadge of notes and proceeded to split them, half each.
I objected. “You need it all. You don’t know when Craven will put a stop on the card.”
“You need it more, Jim. What are you going to do for money when you land in London?”
I wasn’t thinking of that. “What will you do for money here?”
“I know some people. They’ll help me out.”
“And I can get help in London.”
“So half each?”
“Half each.”
Miles handed me the money.
There was a large TV screen behind him. It was in my line of sight but not in his.
I was shocked by what I was seeing on the screen. “Miles. Look at this.”
We both stared at the screen.
It was a news story. There had been a large explosion at a compound on Town Lake. There were pictures of devastation. The building had been destroyed. First indications were that two powerful bombs had ripped the place apart. Eighteen had died, many of them security services personnel caught in a second blast. Breaking news flashed across the bottom of the screen. Elmore Ravitz, up-and-coming politician, had been killed in the blast. Police suspected terrorism.
I kept my voice low. “Miles, that must be where Craven’s men were headed when they left the hotel bar in such a hurry. It must be the family Craven was protecting.”
He agreed. “There’s more. The name Ravitz was one of those on the German’s list, one of the loose ends the Landos wanted cleaning up. It’s Heller’s work.”
“The loss of life. What could justify that?”
“It was Heller, I’m certain.”
“And the reason why he gave up the chase on us?”
“I guess he needed to get away himself.”
I realized what it meant for Miles. “You have the story. Are you going to publish?”
“I have most of the story but not enough to publish yet. It’s another reason for me to stay here. Most of what I know comes from Luiz, a multiple killer, now dead, in life a member of a notorious drugs cartel. A good man in his own way but no one out there knows that. There’s a lot of work needed before I can break the story.”
I also realized the danger Miles was in. “Take care. Not many know what you know.”
“What we both know.”
We moved away from the screen, as if staying close to it would increase the chance someone here in Dallas-Fort Worth might associate us with the events being shown if we’d not moved.
Miles was looking more furtive. “There’s something else, Jim. What we’ve just seen on the TV, the explosion in Austin, means this place and all the airports for a few hundred miles around will be on lock down. You need to get flight-side before they ramp up the security checks.”
Time was running on at speed as I tried to make the most of our last minutes together.
Miles made it simple. “Time to go, bro.”
We hugged. I was overcome by the fear that these might be the last words I would speak to him. “Take care. I’ll let you know when I make it back.”
“Take care yourself.” With that he made a point of turning and walking away.
Chapter 67
Julia had waited long enough. If she was to leave before the police arrived, there was no more time to think about this.
She had to get this right. She had to be sure the Italians had left.
And she had to find out what had happened to Craig.
It had to be now.
She said farewell to Moira and stepped back out into the corridor where she’d come so close to being killed. It was deserted. The elevator was waiting and empty and she traveled down to the third floor alone.
There was activity outside room 306 but it wasn’t the police, it was hotel personnel, called to the scene as a result of her call to reception. The Polish receptionist stood in the doorway while the hotel manager checked for vital signs.
He looked up as Julia entered. “Your brother. He’s dead.”
Julia was in tears. She’d reasoned that Craig would not have allowed the Italians to chase after her without putting his life on the line. Yet seeing him lying there, seeing the amount of blood he’d lost, brought the reality of what had happened home to her. In the short time they’d spent together she’d come to respect him for his honesty and his bravery in doing a dangerous job well. She was in danger of falling into a state of shock.
The receptionist comforted her. “Don’t worry. The police are coming.”
Julia knew there was nothing more that could be done for Craig. She had to put her sadness to one side and concentrate on what lay ahead. It was one of the hardest decisions of her life.
She took on the role. “It’s terrible. Who could have done a thing like this?”
The receptionist tried to comfort her. “They’ll find them. Try not to worry about that now.”
“I think I’m going to faint. I need to lie down.”
“I’ll come with you to help.”
“It’s OK. You’re needed here.”
“No, I’ll come.”
“I insist. I’ll be OK. Please stay here.”
Both the receptionist and the manager were surprised but didn’t object. They were as affected as Julia by what they’d discovered in the room.
; Julia made her way to her hotel room and packed essentials into one of the light luggage bags. She decided to risk the elevator even though the police would be arriving at any minute. The chance that any of the officers summoned by the call would recognize her was small yet she had to be sure the Italians were not still lying in wait. The best antidote, she reasoned, was a strong police presence.
She stepped out of the elevator and entered the hotel lobby to find the first of the police arriving. She stood to one side as they raced past to be shown to the third floor by another of the hotel staff.
Out on the street, Julia walked a few yards and hailed a black cab passing on the other side of the street. The driver saw her, made a U- turn and pulled in to pick her up. In a few seconds she was inside and headed for Euston Station.
The cash Miles had left made this possible. At Euston she bought a ticket for Glasgow, not that she intended to go all the way there.
Less than three hours later, she left the train at Oxenholme. Another taxi ride and she would arrive in Ambleside. She would check into one of the guest houses that had a vacancy sign and move to a more secure place the next day.
Chapter 68
I made my way to departures. At security, there was no real scrutiny of the passport photograph and I was nodded through. Once flight-side, I made for the London flight at Gate 18.
The seating around the gate was full. Expectation was rising that an announcement was imminent and boarding would commence. The nervous flyer brigade intensified their studied lack of concern. There was a line of five waiting for attention at the desk. A further three or four, on standby for a cheap flight at the last minute if the ’plane wasn’t full, waited nearby. The attendant was busy, overworked, just as Miles had anticipated.
I joined the line waiting for attention at the desk. I remembered Miles’ words. Act like this is matter of fact. Act like you belong. Like you expect to get on the ’plane.
The line was moving but not at any great speed since boarding was still not yet announced. That was good. I felt less noticeable standing in the line, less of a target of attention if the expected state of heightened security showed itself flight-side. I knew the line would have to clear before boarding was called.
