Crisis Four

by Andy McNab

  It was something I had always tried not to give any thought to. I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I never think that far ahead, never have. Tomorrow night – that’s far enough. And I hope I’ll be celebrating that we’re all still alive.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll stay in,’ she said. ‘I’ll probably do what everybody else does – get married, have children, all that sort of stuff. I sometimes wish I had a child.’ She lifted herself up on one elbow and looked into my eyes. ‘Does that sound crazy?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not since I’ve had Kelly.’

  ‘You’re very lucky.’ She moved her face closer, and I could feel her breath on my neck. ‘Maybe I’ll write my memoirs.’ She brushed my face with her hand. ‘But where could I possibly start the story?’ She paused, her eyes shining. ‘And what would I say about you?’

  ‘Hmm.’ I smiled. ‘Not easy.’ Fuck, if she carried on like this I’d go to pieces and tell her I was in love with her or some shit like that. I couldn’t handle it at all.

  Her lips brushed against my forehead too lightly for it to be a kiss, then moved down to my cheek. I turned my head and my mouth met hers. I closed my eyes and could feel her body half on top of mine, her hair brushing my face.

  Her kiss was long, gentle and caring, then suddenly more urgent. She pressed her body hard against mine.

  25

  I was woken by the screams of 200 kids – or at least that was what it sounded like. I kept my eyes closed and listened to the din. Maria had arrived and was trying to shush and organize them, and in doing so she was stirring things up even more.

  A herd of elephants went downstairs, followed by Mexican commands to ‘put on clean sock’ as she went past our door. I opened my eyes and looked at Baby-G. It was six fifty-eight.

  I yawned, turned and saw Sarah. She was sitting up, flicking through the Jackie O book. I muttered, ‘What was that you were saying about children last night?’

  Eyes firmly fixed on the page, she nodded, not listening. I hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those terrible mornings-after when both of us desperately wished we were somewhere else and neither of us could bring ourselves to be the first to go for eye contact. I hoped not, because I knew it would only be that way for me if it was for her.

  ‘Time spent on reconnaissance is seldom wasted, Nick,’ she said, glancing at me and smiling. Things were looking up.

  I propped myself up and checked the scabs on my arm. They were sealing up OK; the bruising was now very dark and swollen. I moved closer and looked at the book. It was mostly about the decor of each of the main rooms that Jackie O had changed in the 1960s. The useful stuff was at the back in an appendix: floor plans of both wings, west and east, plus the executive mansion in between. There was no way of telling if the layout was still the same, but that was all we had, apart from my memory of Josh’s guided tour.

  I looked up to read her eyes, and they told me she was already walking into the White House press room. Her work cassette was in.

  I threw off the duvet and headed for the shower. I came back ten minutes later, drying my hair with a towel, to find her already dressed, apart from her jacket and shoes. ‘Let’s go down and find out what’s happening, I’ll shower later.’ She waited while I threw on my clothes and followed her.

  Armageddon was well underway in the dining room. Spoons crashed into cereal bowls, chairs scraped on the wooden floor, the toaster popped, Maria tutted and fussed. In amongst all this the kids were practising their songs. The problem was they were all in different time. It sounded like cats on heat. I tried to remind myself that this was a celebration of peace, rather than a declaration of war.

  Josh had his back to me, doing some magic act with lunch boxes. He looked like a TV chef cooking ten things at once, wrapping sandwiches in clingfilm, washing apples, throwing in handfuls of cheese snacks. He was wearing navy-blue suit trousers and a freshly ironed white shirt; I could see his white T-shirt underneath, and the dark skin of his arms. I couldn’t wait to see his tie. The thing that worried me was that he had a light-brown pancake holster just behind his right hip, and a double mag carrier on his left. I just hoped he didn’t end up having to use what would be going in there on us two. I checked with Sarah. She’d clocked his gear, too.

  Josh didn’t even look round as I came in; he just called out, ‘Morning! Coffee’s in the machine over to the left.’ I could see the percolator bubbling away. ‘Bagels are by the toaster. Can’t stop, got to get these ready before Puff Daddy and his backing crew here are picked up for their gig.’

  I went over and split some of the pre-cut bagels, putting a couple in the toaster as Sarah poured some coffee. We put on a good show, as if I knew that she liked nothing better than toasted bagels for breakfast and didn’t even have to ask, and she knew exactly how I liked my coffee. She asked Josh if he wanted some and he looked up from the lunch boxes for a second, nodded and smiled.

  She poured. ‘So what are our chances, Josh?’

  He had his back to us again, jamming too much food into a Little Mermaid lunch box. ‘I was going to give them a call at the top of the hour,’ he said, ‘just after the shift change.’

  He finished loading up the Little Mermaid and glanced at his watch. ‘Tell you what, let’s see if I can get hold of the guy now.’

  He walked over to the wall telephone and dialled, hooked the receiver with about a ten-foot lead between his shoulder and ear, then walked back to put the lunch boxes into the kids’ daysacks. He had sold out: his tie was just plain old blue. He saw me looking at it in disgust, annoyed that there was nothing I could take the piss out of. He grinned back at me.

  The daysacks were made of clear plastic – the only sort of bag that could be taken into some American schools now, because the kids had to show they only held books and lunch boxes and not guns. I imagined that White House security would have thought them a good idea, too.

  I could hear cartoons on the TV next door. That worried me; it meant they’d finished breakfast and were killing time. In this house, there was never any TV while there were meals to be eaten or work to be done. I looked at my watch. It was seven thirty-two.

  He got an answer. ‘Yo, it’s Josh.’ There was a gap. ‘Yeah, absolutely fine, I’ll be there today anyway to watch my kids; we can talk then.’ They spun more work shit for a while, and had an in-joke about their president.

  The toaster popped up. I picked up the bagels and went to the fridge, digging out some spread. Sarah’s eyes followed me as she crossed to sit at the kitchen table. She looked like a student waiting for her finals results.

  I deliberately didn’t look at Josh; if he turned I didn’t want any eye-to-eye. Our unconscious bubbles away inside, and mostly we manage never to let people see in; the only place they can is our eyes. I’d spent most of my life controlling it, but Josh knew the score. He’d been there too. I just concentrated hard on the bagel as I spread, and listened.

  He finished waffling and got down to business. ‘Who’s the shift co-ordinator today? Ah, right. Is Davy Boy in?’ He sounded pleased.

  I walked across the kitchen and sat next to Sarah. She had her hands round her mug, just sipping slowly, taking fantastic interest in the coffee’s molecular structure. Josh was still gobbing off on the phone with his back to us and zipping up the daysacks. Once he’d done that, he walked over to us and dumped them on the table, still waffling.

  ‘I’ve got two really good friends here, over from the UK, and I want to bring them in for a visit. What do you say, bud?’ He smiled at whatever was being said at the other end. ‘Yeah, today . . . yeah, I know, but it’s their only chance, man . . . yeah, that’s OK.’ He looked at his watch, placed his thumb on the cut-out, looked at us and said, ‘Call back in thirty.’

  Both of us managed a genuine look of happiness, but I was bluffing big time. We had a problem if the kids left before we got the OK for the visit.

  I checked my watch again. It was now seven thirty-nine. Josh smiled, too, feeling good about him
self as he sat down at the table with his coffee. Sarah sounded excited. ‘I’ll go and get ready, then. See you both soon.’ She gave my shoulder a loving squeeze and disappeared.

  Josh checked the kitchen. His jobs were done. We drank coffee in silence. He ate a bagel and listened to Maria still shouting at the kids in the next room. I said, ‘When do the kids leave, Josh? It’s a bit early for a one o’clock start isn’t it?’

  ‘About eight. A school bus will pick them up and take them downtown. Dress rehearsals, man. I’ll be glad when this is all over; this quilt business seems to have taken over my life.’

  I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant.

  I tried to fill the silence. ‘What’s the dress code?’ I said. ‘I don’t want to let you down.’

  ‘Hey, no problem, man. I just gotta look good; it’s my job.’

  We continued to drink our brews and gob off. I asked if I could borrow one of his ties.

  He was about to clip me over the head when a shout came from the dining room. ‘Daddy! Daddy!’ There was some whingeing going on and Maria was just about to go ballistic. He got up. ‘Back in five.’

  He went out with a smile on his face; mine dropped. I checked again. Seven forty-five. Fifteen minutes till the kids left, but closer to twenty-five before we got the go or no go for the visit. Not good; I needed the kids here just in case we had a no go, otherwise plan B wouldn’t work. Time to get my finger out of my arse and get in gear. I put my coffee down and went upstairs. Sarah’s shower was running and she was standing naked by the curtain, just about to step in. I said nothing, but went to my bag and pulled out the 9mm, checked chamber and put the safety on.

  She came over to me, putting her mouth right against my ear as she asked what was happening.

  I placed the weapon in the waistband of my jeans and pulled out my shirt to cover it. ‘The kids could be leaving before Josh gets the go or no go.’

  She leaned over the chair, got her clothes and started to dress, muttering, ‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’

  ‘You wait here and stand by. If I have to go for it, you’ll hear. If so, get down to me and be quick about it. Remember, don’t kill him, OK. Do you remember what to do?’

  She nodded as she tucked her shirt into her trousers. I still wanted to run through it with her. We couldn’t afford to fuck up now. ‘If it’s a no go, I’ll hold them here, and you will have to go with Josh on your own. Can you handle that?’

  She nodded again, without looking up.

  ‘Good. Remember, he will do whatever you say if the kids are hostages. Make sure you keep reminding him about his kids.’

  This time she stopped dressing and looked up at me.

  ‘Good luck,’ I said quietly.

  She smiled. ‘And you.’

  Checking my shirt, I went downstairs, leaving Sarah as she checked that there was a round in the chamber, ready to go.

  The bags had gone from the kitchen, but kid-type noise was still coming from the TV room. Josh came back in from giving them their daysacks. ‘What’s the score up there, then, eh?’ He jerked his head to indicate upstairs. ‘Is it serious?’

  ‘I think so, mate. I hope so.’

  He had a big smile on his face. ‘She’s magic, man. She’d make my head spin.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ I sat down to finish my coffee, with a sly check of Baby-G. It was seven fifty-seven. Three minutes and the kids could be leaving; still over ten before the call.

  Dakota came into the kitchen, very excited about the day’s programme. ‘Hi, Nick. Are you and Sarah hanging out with Daddy today so you can see us sing? It’s going to be so cool!’

  Josh tried to calm her down. ‘Wow, chill. We don’t know yet, we’re waiting on a call. You’d better say goodbye to Nick now, just in case.’ With that he went back into the TV room to usher the others into the kitchen.

  Dakota came over and gave me a hug. It must have felt as strange for her as it did for me. I was holding back; I didn’t want her to feel the weapon.

  ‘If I don’t see you this afternoon, I’ll call you all soon – with Kelly, OK?’

  By now the others were coming through, more interested in what they were missing on the TV than in saying goodbye.

  Josh was getting them organized. ‘All go upstairs and say goodbye to Sarah. Holler through the door if she’s in the shower.’ Off they scrambled. I heard their shouts, and hers in return.

  Josh was on the doorstep with Maria. It looked as if she was finished until this afternoon. Good: one less to worry about.

  It was eight o’clock. Things could start getting scary soon. I made sure my work cassette was in, and stayed there. At least Josh’s holster wasn’t full yet; it never was with the kids around. I heard the hiss of air brakes outside.

  ‘The bus is here, kids, let’s go!’ There was a thumping on the staircase and one in my heart as I walked into the hall to stop them, hand now reaching under my shirt.

  They saw me. ‘Bye, Nick, see you this afternoon!’

  The phone rang and Josh came past me, back into the kitchen, sounding exasperated. ‘Come on, kids, get your bags. Bus is waiting!’

  Through the open kitchen door, I saw him answer the phone. I was standing in their way as they were about to turn left towards the door that led from the hallway into the TV room. I put my hand around the pistol grip. I knew it would work; people don’t fuck about when it comes to their children.

  Sarah was at the top of the stairs, weapon strong, five steps behind. The worse scenario I could imagine couldn’t be stopped now. She was walking down the stairs, pistol behind her, in case one of the children looked back.

  I slowed the herd. ‘Hey, hey, don’t go yet. I think your dad wants you all in the kitchen. He’s finding out if Sarah and I are coming to see you all sing today.’ They turned left through the door to their dad. I had eye-to-eye with Sarah. She was nearing the bottom of the stairs and was placing her weapon in her trouser band.

  ‘Remember what I said.’

  She nodded as we both went into the kitchen with the last of the kids. He got to the end of his call and the kids were all over him, wanting to know.

  ‘Right, we’re on at ten!’ He beamed.

  The kids cheered and we both cheered with them.

  ‘Well done!’ I had a big smile on my face. ‘Thanks a lot, mate. Brilliant!’

  He remembered the bus. ‘What are you guys doing here? Go, go!’ He shooed them out towards the front door.

  I heard the hiss of the bus’s air brakes and the chug of diesel as it dragged itself down the road. Josh came back into the kitchen and collapsed onto a chair with a loud sigh, pouring himself some more coffee as he looked up at Sarah. ‘Come back, Geri, all is forgiven.’ He looked at me. ‘Great news, huh? To tell you the truth, I’m quite looking forward to it myself.’

  Sarah laughed, more out of relief than anything else.

  ‘Say, do you guys have a camera?’

  We didn’t.

  ‘No problem, we can pick one up from a store. I’m quite looking forward to going downtown. I miss working the team, man.’ He took another slug of coffee. ‘This job is driving me crazy, know what I’m saying? I’ve got to get back on ops.’ Tilting his head back, he killed the coffee. ‘I’m going to make a call to arrange parking. It’s a nightmare up there.’

  Sarah stood up. ‘I’ll finish getting ready and pack.’

  I followed her out to the stairs and passed over my weapon. ‘In the bags.’

  I was back at the coffee percolator as Josh finished his call. I motioned to see if he wanted more, and he nodded. The phone went back on the wall and he came to the table.

  I took a seat beside him. ‘We’ll just have to wait now while she puts her face on.’

  He smiled as he unfolded the newspaper. I started to flap as the Washington Post was laid out on the table top, but the chances of the story still being in there after three days were pretty slim, especially given the amount of column inches devoted to events at the White House.
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  ‘Anything interesting?’

  ‘Hell no, just the normal shit.’

  He turned the paper round to show me the front page: pictures of Netanyahu and Arafat in town yesterday. The subject was a bit too close to home for me at the moment.

  He turned the paper back as I asked, ‘What do think, mate? Think it will work? You know, the peace deal?’

  He started to give his views on the summit. Not that I was listening, but I wanted him to talk, which was why I’d asked the question in the first place. The more he was gobbing off, the more I could just sit there and nod and agree or throw in the odd question, but at the same time get myself revved up for the job. I was in my own little world, so relieved the call had brought good news.

  I heard Sarah coming down the stairs. It brought me back to the real world. He was now honking about all the roadworks and the DC traffic as Sarah came into the room with our bags and my jacket. She may not have had time for a shower but she’d made up for it with eye-liner and lip gloss.

  Josh stood up, looking at his watch. ‘OK, let’s saddle up!’

  I picked up our two bags while Josh ran upstairs. He didn’t say why, but we both knew that it was to fetch his weapon.

  26

  A bleep came from the pickup and the lights flashed. Josh jumped into the cab, and Sarah and I went round to the passenger side. As I opened the door a toy racing car fell out. Crayons, a colouring sheet from McDonald’s and other kids’ crap littered the footwell. I put our bags in the back; our weapons were inside now, and would stay there. Sarah picked up the toy from the sidewalk and climbed in. I followed; there was room enough for three in the front seat.

  The morning sky was still overcast, but bright when the sun came out between the clouds. I had to squint as I looked through the windscreen. A pair of mirrored sunglasses were hanging by their cord from the rear-view mirror. Josh put them on over his shiny head and fired up the ignition. The engine gave a big four-litre growl, and out we backed, the antenna automatically starting to rise.