by Andy McNab
"Nick, you are the only " The phone rang. Sarah jumped up and started to throw her things on, picking up her weapon and checking the chamber. With her jeans halfway up her legs, she pulled the curtain slightly to see outside. She shook her head. I picked up the phone. She carried on dressing.
It was reception; we exchanged a few words and I replaced the receiver.
"It's the car. Take everything, get into the shower room and wait." She picked up the rest of her clothes, towels and bag and took them with her. I put my jacket back on to hide the wound and the fact that my shirtsleeves were missing and changed channel, checking it wasn't on a news program.
I turned up the volume to cover Sarah.
There was a knock on the door. As I walked across the room, even I couldn't help noticing how dank the room smelled. I looked through the spy hole It was a young black guy wearing a blue T-shirt. He had all the forms on a clipboard under his left arm, and a runner for the credit card in his hand.
I sat down with him on the bed to fill out the forms. Showing my driving license was always a bit of fun, as most people outside the U.K. don't have a clue what they're looking at a damp piece of pink paper that says nothing much at all, and doesn't even have a picture. He was turning the page over for the details he needed, trying to appear as if he knew what he was about. I couldn't bear to see him in pain.
"The number's there." He smiled at me in relief.
As he got up, I could see him trying to work out the smell. I laughed.
"We were using a friend's car for our holiday. It broke down last night in the middle of nowhere."
He nodded, not really caring. When he left, Sarah came out of the bathroom, taking her jeans off again to dry.
If she were telling the truth, maybe I would take her back to London.
The problem was that although I hardly knew where I was with Sarah, I did with Lynn and Elizabeth. It might be G&Ts at seven, dinner at eight for them, but if I didn't carry out my job they would fuck me over big time, maybe even organize my own personal T104. I needed more information from Sarah; the fact that she'd killed the American gave me a pretty clear idea of whose side she was on, but I needed solid evidence. I sat on the bed as she finished undressing and put her clothes back on the heater.
"When are they going to do the hit?"
She came and sat next to me. She looked up at me with excitement, then her face changed.
"You still don't believe me, do you, you bastard?"
She gripped my arm with her hand.
"You must help me. I'm the only one who can identify the two who are left, and I know them, Nick. They won't rest until they've finished the job." She stared at me. I didn't answer; I knew she was going to continue.
"What are we here for, Nick? How will you look at yourself in the mirror if you don't help me to stop it?"
Mr. Spock would have been proud of her. The emotional stuff didn't work too much for me, but the story did sound logical. But she'd already fucked me over once, and looking at myself in the mirror had never been high on my list of priorities.
I got to my feet and went toward the door.
"I'm going for a cruise around to see if I can get us some clothes. What size are you?"
"Eight U.S." shoes six. Why don't I just come with you?"
"They're looking for a couple now. They may even have a video grab from the gas station. Sit here, I'll be back."
Out in the corridor, I closed the door behind me but didn't walk away immediately. Ripping two matches from the book I'd picked up I wedged them between the door and the frame, one a foot above the lock, one below.
I heard the locks being closed from the inside as I went downstairs.
The rain came down in a constant drizzle as I got into the car, a red Saturn, and turned over the ignition. The heater blew at its highest setting, the radio blared and the windshield wipers thrashed from side to side. The urgent bing bing bing told me to put my seat belt on. I did, inhaling the new car smell, put it into drive and headed for the road.
In case she was watching, I drove out of her line of sight before going around the back of the motel, crossing over the main drag and parking up in the lot for Arby's, a hot sandwich shop. Looking through the power, telephone and stop-sign lines that hung above the main drag I now had a trigger on the motel door; I'd even be able to see where she walked to, as I had the stairs and ground floor in view. If she did something that showed she was lying, at least I'd know, and then I'd have control again. Plus, I could see if the police turned up. What Sarah was going to do once that happened I didn't know, and I wouldn't wait to see. If she followed her usual pattern, she would probably kill a couple of them and hopefully get killed herself. It was a risk, not keeping her with me, but worth it. Besides, there was something I had to do alone.
I kept watching the motel door as I turned on the power of the mobile, hit the PIN and eventually keyed in three digits. An operator answered.
"Yes, please," I said.
"North Carolina, Century Twenty-one Realtors, on Skibo Road, Fayetteville."
Century 21 was a family-owned estate agency franchise, letting out apartments. I'd gone there once when I was in the Regiment, when a couple of us were staying in Fayetteville for six weeks. We spent one week in Moon Hall, a military hotel on the base, which was fine enough, but with the allowances we'd been given we decided to treat ourselves to an apartment.
The only reason I could remember the name was that the "Ski" in "Skibo" was pronounced "Sky" and I always got it wrong.
I kept the engine running so the window wouldn't fog, and my eyes on the trigger. As I waited, I hit the wiper arm to clear the windshield. The number was given to me and I dialed.
The call was quickly answered by a female voice in turbo mode.
"Century Twenty-one, Mary Kirschbaum and Jim Hoeland Property Management Inc. How may I help you?"
I switched to my bad American.
"Hi, I'm looking for an apartment to rent--three bedrooms, maybe." The bigger it was, the more chance there was of the kitchen having the facilities I was going to need.
I heard the sound of a keyboard being tapped at warp speed, and within a nanosecond she replied, "I have only one or two bedrooms available.
Do you require furnished or unfurnished?" She gave me the feeling this wasn't her first day on the job.
"Two bed, furnished, would be fine."
"OK, how long do you require the property for? I need a day's notice for weekly rentals and a week's notice for monthly rentals."
She had obviously decided that for someone like me, who didn't seem to have a clue what he wanted, it would be better to explain right away instead of wasting her time.
"Two weeks, but could I get it today?"
There was a pause. I'd fucked up the procedure, but she recovered with style.
"Right now I have a two-bedroom apartment available to rent for one seventy-five a week or five fifty a month, plus electric and tax. If you decide to stay longer the monthly rental rate would start on month two."
Once I'd heard the first nine or ten words I didn't even listen to the rest.
"OK, that sounds great. What's the kitchen like? Does it have a freezer?"
I thought she was going to ask if I'd just arrived from Mars.
"Yes, they all have a full kitchen. Freezer, dishwasher, range--" I cut in before I got the whole list.
"And I can definitely have it today?"
There was another pause.
"Sure." The computer keys were going into meltdown.
"You need to come into the office today before five thirty so I can book you in. It will be a two-hundred dollar deposit in cash, plus one week's rental, plus tax in advance, cash or card only. Can I have your name?"
The keyboard was given another brief respite as I slowed the process down by talking at a normal speed.
"Snell. Nick Snell."
By the time I'd finished, it was on the hard disk.
"OK, I'm Velvet, the renta
l assistant. I'll see you here before five thirty."
I came off the phone feeling dizzy. I had to hit the wipers again as I kept both eyes on the motel door. I looked at the half washed-out "K" on my wrist, then at my watch. It wasn't too early I dialed call number two and got the answer, "Hello, lower school office."
"Hello, Mr. Stone here. I'm sorry to call outside of social hours, but is it possible to talk to Kelly? I'm working and I " Before I'd even finished a very prim and proper voice, straight out of a 1950s black and white film, said, "That's perfectly all right, Mr. Stone.
One moment."
I was treated to an electronic version of "Greensleeves." I'd thought that had been banned by the music police years ago.
I knew it wasn't "perfectly all right." The secretary would have to drag her out of class, or whatever goes on in boarding schools at that time of the evening. Him calling again, the wrong line, wrong day and always with excuses but I paid the bills, and on time. It must piss her off. I made a mental note to find out who this woman was and what she looked like next time I visited. I imagined a cross between Joyce Grenfell and Miss Jean Brodie.
She came back on the line.
"Can you ring back in a quarter of an hour?"
"Of course."
"Not bad news, I hope. She's been so excited today, because they sang a belated "Happy Birthday' in assembly. She's feeling a very special young lady indeed."
I turned off the power with fifteen minutes to kill, while keeping my eye on the motel and listening to the radio, feeling really pleased that I'd got it together to call. It would surprise her. I was cut out of the daydream by a news headline.
".. . the deadly gun battle only minutes away from vacationing families.
We'll bring you more from the scene after these messages .. ."
Once I'd listened to an important announcement about this week's sportswear specials at Sears, a very serious voice tried to give weight to the popcorn-style report he was presenting. They had found bodies at the house, and they were thought to be Middle Eastern. However, police were not yet releasing further details. His voice dropped an octave for extra gravitas. Unconfirmed reports suggested that the dead men could be terrorists.
At least there was no mention of any dead police, which meant no pissed-off cops hunting for the Bonnie and Clyde who'd murdered their best mates. I sat and listened to the rest of the news, very aware of the uncomfortable dampness of my jeans.
It was about seventeen minutes past twelve. I powered up the phone and called the U.K. again, nicking my eyes between the keypad and the motel door. I got the ringing tone and turned off the radio.
Our conversations when she was at school were normally quite strained, because she was in the office and people were listening in, and, like the grandparents, they still didn't understand how someone as erratic as me could be in charge of a child's welfare.
It rang, she answered.
"Hello?"
"Hi, how are you today!" I always tried to sound really happy to put her at ease.
"Fine. Where are you?"
I could hear phones ringing and Miss Grenfell-Brodie fussing around in the background.
"I'm in London, still working. How's school?"
"Fine."
"And Granny and Grandad? Did you have a good time?"
"It was OK." Her tone suddenly shifted.
"Hey, Nick, it's really cool you called!"
It was great to hear her voice as well.
"See, I promised I'd ring you, and I have, haven't I? You see, a normal person's promise. Are you impressed, or what?"
She started to spark up.
"Yes, and do you know what? The whole school sang "Happy Birthday' to me today in assembly. Well, Louise, Catherine and me. They had birthdays in the holidays, too. Are you impressed, or what?"
I imagined Miss Grenfell-Brodie giving Kelly a disapproving look.
"We don't say 'or what," remember? Anyway, was it embarrassing?"
"No! My class has bought a present for me. A book of amazing facts;
it's really cool."
"Wow!" I said, trying to work up some enthusiasm.
"So what have you been doing today?"
"Hmmm, mostly the Geography project, I guess."
"That's good. I used to love that at school." I looked skyward in case a bolt of lightning was heading my way.
"We had wet breaks all day today," she chatted on.
"Is it raining in London?"
"Pouring, I got soaked. It was raining cats and dogs. Especially dogs."
We both laughed. She said, "Have you talked with Josh yet? Are they back home?"
"No, they won't be home until tomorrow."
"Oh, OK. We need to send a card to say thank you for them coming to see us."
I thought I was the one who had to come up with the grown-up, parent type stuff.
"OK. Can you be in charge of that? It would be a really nice surprise for them. Tell them a few amazing facts while you're at it."
"I will, during Letters."
"Great, they'll love that." Letters was an hour set aside each Saturday after study time, when the kids who were boarders had to write to their parents. Or, if you were Kelly, guardian and grandparents.
A truck parked between me and the motel. She was still prattling on while I moved in my seat to keep the trigger, and at the same time used the opportunity to adjust my damp jeans.
"I wished we could have stayed with them, Nick. Can we go back to the ship?"
"Yeah, no problem." I realized I was still feeling guilty. She could have asked for anything at that moment and I'd have agreed to it. The traffic was still screaming past between the target and me, throwing up clouds of water.
"Can Josh and everyone come?"
"Of course. As soon as we go on the next long holiday. Make sure you ask Josh in the card, OK?"
Even as I heard myself saying it, I knew it wasn't going to happen. The chances of Josh being able to get over to the U.K. with his kids again were slim because of the expense. I said, "I've got to go now. You have a really, really happy birthday time tonight."
"OK, are you going to ring me again soon?"
"I hope so. I won't be able to this week, but I'll definitely call after the weekend, promise. NPP. Are you seeing Granny and Grandad at all?"
"Yes. There's no Drama on Saturday, so after Study Time and Letters Granny said I can go stay with them."
I was pleased about that, because if they weren't able to have her some weekends she didn't get to leave the school grounds.
"OK, listen, have a great day."
"I will. I love you."
It always felt weird when she did that. I liked it, but I could never say it unless she did first. If I did, it made me feel like I was intruding.
"I love you, too. Now there's another amazing fact! OK, back to class. I'll speak to you soon, all right?"
She laughed and the phone went dead. I guessed she knew she had to make the first move.
She was happy that I'd called and I was happy that I'd remembered to.
What was more, it was a lot easier to do now that I knew the Firm knew about her. I didn't have to get out of the car and use a public call box. I cleared both numbers from the recall menu and closed down.
The truck had moved, so I no longer had to sit like a contortionist to keep the trigger. I sat there for a minute just looking at the motel door and the traffic cruising between us, feeling very pleased with myself.
I switched back into work mode, pulled $5 out of my wallet and went and bought a Coke, trying my best to "keep dog" on the target through the windows. Once out on the forecourt with my pint and a half of Coke and ice in my hand, I went to the bank of four phones that stood beside the Burger King next door.
I pulled out the handset to its full extent so that I could still see the motel. The roar of the traffic was almost deafening. I put my money in to call directory assistance. Pushing my finger in my ear and pulling on the handset for that last
inch of line to keep the trigger, I shouted, "Washington D.C." British Embassy, Massachusetts Avenue, please." I had to say it again because of the traffic, plus she couldn't understand my Australian accent.
I dialed the number and finally got through to who I wanted.
"Michael, it's Nick. I need some help, and I've decided to take you up on your offer."
There was a slight pause as Metal Mickey mulled this one over.
"Well, that depends on what exactly the offer was." I could imagine the smile on his face.
"It's just some questions that need answering, nothing that'll get you into trouble." I could hear myself shouting down the phone to overcome the traffic noise.
"Good. I would just hate to be a naughty boy."
I bet he would.
"No, mate, no trouble. Have you a pen?"
He gave a slow, "0-K," as he looked for it.
"I need anything that you can find on a handling name Yousef. Anything you can get."
He sounded surprised at my plain speech on the phone.
"Nick, aren't you the naughty one! You're supposed to be the one concerned with security."
He giggled like a schoolboy.
"I know, mate, but this is important and I haven't any time to mess about. The other thing I need to know is what exactly Sarah's been working on these last two years in the U.S." plus, what did she do the two years before that? I know you don't know now, but I just know you'll be able to find out."
"Why, Nick, you old flatterer, you." He started to laugh as he wrote a note to himself.
"Aren't you supposed to be the one in the loop?"
I let out a sigh.
"Yeah, I know, mate, but I've fucked up and got myself in a muddle. I don't really want to call London and get it sorted out. First time doing this sort of job, and all that. It would be very embarrassing."
He let out a squeal of delight.
"Oh, tell me about it!"
I didn't have a clue what he was on about and just carried on before he had the chance to tell me.
"Finally, I need to know what Netanyahu and Arafat are getting up to this week. You know, times, places, that sort of thing" "0-K. You are a busy boy, aren't you?"
"Oh, and one last thing. I need to know the names and backgrounds of the four men killed last night at a place called Little Lick Creek in North Carolina."
