Nick Stone 1 - Remote Control.

by Andy McNab

  "Are you definitely sure he's Daddy's boss?"

  "I'm sure Daddy told me. The next day Mommy and me made jokes about his mustache because he looked like a cowboy."

  He did; he looked like a Marlboro man. As she pointed, her finger touched the screen, and Daddy's boss was distorted.

  Having Kelly in my arms and seeing someone who might have been responsible for her father's death made me want to do the same to him in person.

  I looked at Big Al.

  "Let's go back through all the photos."

  Big Al sat down and scrolled back through the files to the pictures of Macauley and Femahan with McGear.

  "Do you know these people?" Kelly answered with a no, but I wasn't really listening to her now. I was in my own world. I'd noticed two other cars parked on the other side of the road. I looked hard at the license plates, and then I knew where the pictures had been taken.

  "Gibraltar." I couldn't help mouthing it aloud.

  Big Al pointed to Macauley and his mates.

  "Are these terrorists from Ireland?"

  "Sort of."

  There was a gap while I tried to work this one out.

  Big Al spoke up.

  "It's obvious to me what's going on."

  "What's that?"

  "Well, these Irish guys were buying cocaine from the Colombians. It came by the normal route to the Florida Keys, then the Caribbean and North Africa. They then used Gibraltar as the jump-off point for the rest of Europe. They made fortunes, and at the same time we took our cut for letting them move it through South Florida. All of a sudden, though, at the end of' eighty-seven, it stopped going through Gibraltar."

  "Why was that?" I was finding it hard to stay calm.

  Big Al shrugged.

  "Some big hullaballoo with the locals. I think they now run it from South Africa instead, into the west coast of Spain, something like that. They're linked with some other terrorists up there."

  "ETA?"

  "Search me. Some bunch of terrorists or freedom fighters.

  Call them what you like, to me they're all just dealers.

  Anyway, they help the Irish now. No doubt old Raoul organized things Stateside with Daddy's boss to ensure that the route stayed open for the Irish, because otherwise the Colombians would have given it to someone else."

  "You make it sound like allocating air routes or something."

  Big Al shrugged again.

  "Of course. It's business." He spoke as if all this stuff was common knowledge. It was news tome.

  So who the fuck was PIRA talking to in Gibraltar? Was the PIRA there in an attempt to keep the drug trafficking going?

  It came back to me that in September 1988, Sir Peter Terry, who'd been instrumental in pressing for a crackdown on drug smuggling and who'd been governor of Gibraltar until earlier that year, had narrowly survived an assassination attempt at his home in Staffordshire. A gunman who'd never been caught had given him the good news with twenty rounds from an AK-47 something, as it happened, that Mr. McGear was not unaccustomed to doing. Maybe the fourth man in the photograph was getting a similar warning? And was there some sort of connection between the ending of the drug runs and the shooting of PIRA players in Gibraltar just a few months later?

  Whatever, it confirmed that there were some strange things going on with some members of the DEA, including Kev's boss. Maybe they were getting a cut of the action from PIRA and Kev found out?

  Big Al sucked through his teeth once more.

  "You've got a brilliant package here, man. So which one are you going to blackmail?"

  "Blackmail?"

  "Micky, you've got a senior figure in the DEA talking with big-cheese cartel members, your terrorist fellas, and Gibraltar government, law enforcement, whoever. You're not trying to tell me these pictures aren't for the purpose of blackmail? Get real. If it's not you who's going to use them, whoever took these photographs is certainly intending to."

  We went through all the pictures one more time. Kelly didn't recognize any more of the people.

  I asked de Sabatino if there was any way we could enhance the photography.

  "What's the point? You seem to know everybody." He was right. I just wanted Kelly to look at "Daddy's boss" more closely.

  There was silence for about three minutes as we just kept on flicking through.

  "What else do you know about Gibraltar?" I asked.

  "Not much. What more do you want?" His second cigar was well on its way, and Kelly was waving away the smoke.

  "It's common sense if you've got enough money, do a deal with the Colombians and get the goods into Europe. Every other bunch of bad asses is doing it, so why not your Irish guys?"

  Big Al was looking at me as if what we'd stumbled across was very mundane. And I had to admit, it didn't seem enough for Kev and his family to have been murdered for.

  There was too much silence; Big Al had to inject some thing.

  "Whatever, someone is definitely in the blackmail biz."

  I wasn't so sure. Maybe it was some kind of insurance for PIRA. If Kev's boss or the Gibraltarians decided not to play anymore, maybe this was what would keep them in the game.

  I looked at Kelly.

  "Can you do us a favor? Will you go and get some cans of soda?"

  She looked happy to get out of the smoke. I followed her to the door, gave her a handful of coins, and pulled the curtain so I could see the machines. The landing was clear; I watched Kelly until she reached the dispenser, then I sat down on the bed. Big Al was still playing with the laptop.

  I pointed at the screen.

  "First Kev is killed. Now we've got Daddy's boss mixing with the cartels. It's reasonable to assume that what we've got here is corruption within the DEA, involving drug shipments via Florida to Irish terrorists who've been getting it into Europe via Gibraltar. Only now it seems there were some problems for them in late

  'eighty-seven."

  Big Al wasn't really listening. The thought of a corrupt DEA officer had taken him to another planet.

  "Way to go!

  You gonna nail the bastard?"

  "I don't know what I'm going to do."

  "Fucking nail him, Nicky! I hate cops! I hate the DEAf I have to live like a fucking hermit federal witness protection program, kiss my ass!"

  I was worried that five years of frustration were about to explode out of him. I had no time for that.

  "Frankie, I need a car."

  He wasn't listening.

  "They used me, then they just fucked me over..."

  "I need a car."

  He looked at Kelly as she returned with a selection of soda cans, then slowly came back to earth.

  "Sure, OK, for how long?"

  "Two days, maybe three. And I need some money."

  "When do you want it by?"

  "Now."

  Big Al was weird and a sad fuck, too soft and stupid to be in this sort of world, but I felt sorry for him. Me turning up must have been the best thing that had happened to him in years. Life must be shit with no friends, and always worrying about being hit. But that was how mine was going to be if I didn't get this stuff back to Simmonds.

  Big Al used the room phone to call a car rental agency. It would take about an hour to deliver a vehicle, so the three of us strolled to an ATM. He drew out twelve hundred dollars from four different accounts.

  "You never know when you're going to need mucho dinero in a hurry!" He grinned. Maybe he wasn't so stupid after all.

  Back in the room, waiting for the car, I could sense there was more to come from him. He'd definitely been brooding on something for the last half hour.

  "Would you like to make some money, Nicky real money?"

  I was checking my bag to make sure I hadn't left anything.

  "Why's that? Are you going to give me some?"

  "In a way." He came and stood by me as I zipped the bag closed.

  "On those files there are some account numbers stuffed with narco-dollars. Give me two minutes
to access what I need and then I can hack in. I could do it in my sleep." He put an arm around me.

  "Nicky, two minutes on my laptop and we could be talking serious enrichment. What do you say?"

  His head was nodding at a thousand rpm, his eyes never leaving mine.

  I let him sweat a bit.

  "How do I know that you'll pay me my half?" I thought I'd let him know how much I wanted.

  "I can transfer it anywhere you want. And don't worry, once I've moved it they'll never know where it's gone."

  I had to smile. The one thing Frank de Sabatino was good at was hiding money.

  "C'mon, Nicky Two, let's do it!" He had his arms wide open and was looking at me like a child who'd done wrong.

  I gave him the time he needed with the laptop and wrote down the account number for him to transfer my share to.

  Fuck it, Kelly was going to need money for school and stuff, and I wanted a payback for working against these people for so many years. It felt good and anyway it was just business.

  He finished. There was a serious, down-to-work look on his face.

  "Where are you going now?" he asked.

  "I'm not going to tell you; you know the score. People I've been in contact with are now dead, and I don't want that to happen to you."

  "Bullshit!" He looked at Kelly and shrugged his shoulders.

  "You just don't want me to know in case I go blurting off to somebody."

  "That's not the case," I said, though in fact it was.

  "If you did that, or didn't send the money, you know what I'd do."

  He raised an eyebrow.

  I looked at him and smiled.

  "I'd make sure the right people know where you are."

  The color drained from his face for a while, then back came the watermelon. He shook his head.

  "I may have been out of the loop for a while, but I see nothing has changed."

  The telephone rang. A blue Nissan was waiting outside the lobby. Big Al signed for it and gave me a copy of the agreement for when I dropped it off. Kelly and I got in; Big Al stayed on the sidewalk with his briefcase. I pressed the switch to open the windows.

  "Listen, Frankie, I'll e-mail you to let you know where the car's been dropped off, OK?"

  He nodded. It was sinking in that he was about to lose us.

  "Do you want a lift anywhere?"

  "No, I've got work to do. By the morning we could be seriously rich."

  We shook hands through the open window. Al smiled at Kelly and said, "Make sure you come and visit Uncle Al in about ten years' time, little lady. I'll buy the ice cream!"

  We set off slowly down the strip. It was still packed. There was so much neon the street lighting was superfluous.

  Kelly was in the back, staring out the window, then gazing into space, lost in her own little world. I didn't tell her that ahead of us lay a seven-hundred-mile drive.

  Soon Daytona Beach was behind us and we were back on the long, open road. As I drove, I mulled over Kev's words again: You won't believe the stuff I've got here. Your friends over the water are busy! And

  he'd also said: I've just got the ball rolling on something, but I'd be interested to know what you think. Did that mean he'd spoken to his boss? Had his boss then got him zapped? But there was no way Kev would have been talking to anyone in the DEA if he suspected corruption. So who the fuck did he call?

  I now had some valuable material from the PIRA office, a lot of which I didn't understand, but maybe Kev had had more. The more information I got hold of, the better it was going to be for me when I got it to Simmonds, and that was why we were going back to Washington, D.C.

  Once on the interstate I put the car into cruise control and my mind into neutral.

  We drove through the night, stopping only to refuel. I bought cans of Coke to keep the caffeine levels up as we drove and in case Kelly woke up.

  At first light I could begin to make out changes in the terrain, proof that we were moving north into a more temperate climate. Then the sun came up, a big burning ball to my right, and my eyes started to sting.

  We stopped at another gas station. This time Kelly stirred.

  "Where are we?" she yawned.

  "I don't know."

  "Well, where are we going?"

  "It's a surprise."

  "Were you really married?" she asked.

  "It seems so long ago I can hardly remember."

  I looked in the mirror. She'd slumped back down, too tired to pursue it.

  I wanted to have one last look at Kev's place to see what he had, and I wanted to do it at last light tonight. I knew there'd be a secure area somewhere in the house--exactly where, we'd have to find out. Then I wanted to be out of the D.C. area again before first light. Big Al didn't know it yet, but he was going to get his ass into gear and help us get out of the US. If he didn't do it voluntarily, I'd be giving him a jump-start.

  By midmorning Kelly was wide awake, reading a comic book I'd gotten her at the last stop. She was lying in the back, shoes off, totally

  absorbed. We hadn't talked. We were in a world of empty candy wrappers, Styrofoam coffee cups, potato chip bags, and cans of Coke with bits of chip floating in them.

  "Kelly?"

  "Mm?"

  "You know in your house, Daddy had the hidey-holes for you and Aida?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Well, do you know if Daddy had any hidey-holes for important things like money, or where Mommy would keep her rings? Did he have a special place where they'd put stuff?"

  "Sure."

  Busying myself with the cruise control, I said, "Oh, and where is that then?"

  "In his study."

  Which made sense. But that was the room that had been torn apart already.

  "Where is it exactly?"

  "In the wall."

  "Whereabouts?"

  "In the wall! I just saw Daddy doing it once. We're not allowed in there, but the door was open and we'd just come in from school and we saw Daddy putting something in there.

  We were standing right by the door and he didn't know."

  "Is it behind the picture?" I asked, though there was no way he'd be that obvious.

  "No, it's behind the wood."

  "The wood?"

  "Yeah."

  "Would you be able to show me?"

  "Is that where we're going?" She suddenly sat bolt upright.

  "I want Jenny and Ricky!"

  "We can't see them when we get there because they'll be busy."

  She looked at me as if I was nuts.

  "They're my teddies, I told you! They're in my bedroom. Can I get them? They need me."

  I felt like a right dickhead.

  "Of course you can. As long as you're quiet." I knew there was more to come.

  "Can I tell Melissa I'm sorry I missed the sleepover?"

  "We won't have time" She sat back in her seat, brooding.

  "But you're going to phone her mother?"

  I nodded.

  I started to see signs for Washington, D.C. We'd been on the road for nearly eighteen hours. My eyes were smarting worse than ever, despite the air conditioner being on full blast. We'd get there in two hours, but we'd still have most of the afternoon to kill before last light. I pulled in at a rest area and tried to sleep. It could be a busy night.

  It was about six in the evening as we approached the Lorton exit. For once it wasn't raining, just overcast. Only about forty-five minutes to go.

  I couldn't see Kelly in the mirror. She was hunkered down in the seat again.

  "Are you awake?"

  "I'm tired, Nick. Are we there yet?"

  "I'm not going to tell you. It's going to be a surprise. Just keep down; I don't want you to sit up."

  I drove onto Hunting Bear Path, negotiating the speed bumps ultra cautiously so I could have a good look around.

  Everything seemed quite normal. I could see the back of Kev's garage, but I couldn't see the front of the house yet.