by Andy McNab
"You sure?" I just wanted to get out of there.
"I'm really sure."
"OK." After the last time I'd learned my lesson.
I followed signs to the rest rooms. They were to the left, near the large exit doors from international arrivals. You went in through one of two large openings in the wall and immedi lately came across a row of seven or eight disabled toilets, all unisex, and on either side of this were the entrances to the men's and women's rooms. I stayed outside in the main concourse, watching all the people who were waiting for the automatic doors to open and their loved ones to be disgorged.
You always know when you're being stared at. I'd been standing there a minute or two when I became aware. I looked up. It was an old woman, standing against the rail facing me on the opposite side of the channel made by the barriers, Obviously waiting for somebody to come through. There was a silver-haired man with her, but her eyes were fixed on my face.
She looked away, turning her back to the exit doors, even though people were streaming out with their carts. Every few seconds I heard a scream of joy as people were reunited.
What had she been looking at? The cuts on my face? I hoped it was just that. There was nothing I could do about it anyway. I would just shake it off, but keep an eye on her all the same.
Then I saw her start talking to her husband. She wasn't passing the time of day. Her body language looked urgent and agitated. He looked over in my direction, then back at her; he gave her a shrug that said, "What the hell are you talking about, woman? " She must have seen Kelly and me going into the rest rooms and said to herself, "Where do I know those two from? " I wasn't going to move. I wanted to see what she was doing. The moment she started to walk away, I'd have to take action.
I could tell she was still trying to figure it out. I felt my heart pumping. I avoided eye contact, but I knew she was staring. Any moment now she'd remember the news report where she'd seen Kelly's face.
The seconds ticked by. At last Kelly came out and stood by me, a big smile on her face.
"Shall we go now?" I said, grabbing her hand before she could answer.
As I turned with her for the exit, I could clearly see the woman tugging her husband's arm. She recognized us. How ever, the husband had now seen whoever it was they were meeting and was looking the other way.
She pulled his arm more urgently.
I wanted to run, but that would confirm it for her. We walked, and I talked crap to Kelly with the actions of a happy dad.
"Look at those lights, aren't they nice? This is the air port I fly into every time I come here, have you been here before?" Kelly didn't have time to answer any of my stupid questions.
I had to fight the urge to turn around and look. I started to think, what if? If I got the police on me here, I was fucked.
There was nowhere to go, just more of the airport, with more security than you could shake a nightstick at. My eyes were darting around. We had about thirty or forty yards to go to the exit sign. With each step I expected to hear a cop shouting for me to freeze. All I could hear was the general hubbub and the occasional squeal of greeting.
We reached the exit, turned left, and started walking downhill on a wide ramp that led down to the pickup points and the taxis. The moment we'd made that angle I started to move faster and chanced a look behind.
There was a fine drizzle in the air as we exited and looked for the stand.
Kelly said, "What's up?"
I said, "There's the taxis, let's go."
We had to wait for three other people in the line before it was our turn. I felt like a child who desperately wants a toy and cannot wait any longer. Come on, come on!
At last we jumped into a cab and drove off. I turned and looked behind me. Nothing. I still couldn't relax. Kelly could obviously sense the drama but didn't say another word.
I tried to block it out of my mind. Look hard enough and you'll find a positive in even the worst situation--that was what I'd always told myself. But I couldn't get a silver lining out of what had just happened. If the old woman did make the connection and told the police she had seen us heading for the taxis, it was negatives all the way.
I looked at Kelly and yawned.
"I'm sleepy," I said.
"What about you?"
She nodded and put her head in my lap.
I gave the driver directions. Once off the freeway we drove a few blocks, then I got him to pull in. I watched him drive away as we stood in the parking lot of the Marriott. We would walk to the Economy Inn from there.
"We're going to a hotel now," I said.
"Usual story. I'll be saying a lot of things that aren't true, and all you've got to do is be quiet and look really tired, OK? If you do what you're told and it works out, we can go home." We walked toward the reception.
There was a young guy on the desk, his head buried in a textbook. We went through all the same routine, only this time I'd been beaten up during the robbery. He looked embarrassed. "All of America's not like this, you know. It's beautiful." He started talking about the Grand Canyon; after making a promise that I'd make a point of visiting it this trip, I turned and walked out.
When we got to the room, I started helping her off with her coat. As she turned so that her other arm came out of the sleeve, she asked without warning: "Are we going to see Mommy and Daddy now?"
"Not yet, we've still got things to do."
"I want my mommy. Nick. I want to go home. You promised."
"We will go soon, don't worry."
"Are you sure Mommy and Daddy and Aida will be there?"
"Of course they will be."
She didn't look convinced and sat on the edge of the bed. It was crunch time. I couldn't carry this on anymore. If we got out of this mess, I couldn't bring myself to let her be dumped on her grandparents or whoever and find out what a lying bastard I'd been all this time.
"Kelly.. ;' I sat next to her and started stroking her hair as she laid her head on my lap.
"Kelly, when you get home, Mommy, Daddy, and Aida will not be there. They've gone to heaven. Do you know what that means?"
I said it as almost a throwaway, not really wanting to get into it any deeper. I wanted her to say, "Oh, I see," and then ask me if we could have Mickey D's.
There was a pause while she thought about it. All I could hear was the hum of the air-conditioning.
Her face creased into a frown.
"Is it because I didn't help Daddy?"
I felt as if somebody were stabbing me. But it wasn't too hard a question; I felt OK. answering that one.
"Kelly, even if you had tried to help Daddy, they still would have died."
She was crying quietly into my leg. I rubbed her back and tried to think of something to say.
I heard: "I don't want them to be dead. I want to be with them."
"But you are." I was fumbling for words.
She lifted her face and looked at me.
"You are with them. Every time you do something that you did with them means they are with you."
She was trying to work this one out. So was I. "Every time I eat a pizza with mushrooms I think of your mommy and daddy, because I know your mommy liked them.
That's why they are never far away from me--and why Mommy, Daddy, and Aida will be with you all the time."
She looked at me, waiting for more.
"What do you mean?"
I had to think quickly.
"I mean, every time you put plates on a table Mommy will be with you because she showed you how. Every time you catch a ball, Daddy is with you because he taught you. Every time you show someone how to do something, Aida is with you--that's because you used to show her how to do things. You see, they are always with you!"
I didn't know how good it was, but it was the best I could come up with. She was back on my leg; I could feel the heat of her tears and breath.
"But I want to see them. When will I see them. Nick?"
I hadn't gotten through. I didn't kn
ow who was more upset, me or Kelly. A large lump was swelling in my throat. I had gotten into something I couldn't get out of.
"They aren't coming back, Kelly. They are dead. It's not because of anything you did or didn't do. They didn't want to leave you. Sometimes things happen that even grownups can't fix."
She lay there listening. I looked down. Her eyes were open, staring at the wall. I stopped stroking her and put my arm around her.
People need to show sadness and loss. Maybe this was the time for Kelly to do that. If so, I wanted to reach out, not cross the street. I just didn't know if this was how you did it.
"You will be with them one day, but not for a long time. You will have children first, just like Mommy. Then your children will be sad when you die, just like you are now. They all loved you very much, Kelly. I knew your mommy and daddy for only a few years. Just think--you knew them all your life!"
I saw a small smile moving across her face. She pressed her body closer into my legs.
"I want to stay with you. Nick."
"That would be nice but it wouldn't work. I travel a lot. You have to go to school and learn how to be a grownup."
"You can help me do that."
If only she knew. I hadn't even a garage to keep a bike in, let alone somewhere to look after a child.
Your weapon, your kit, and only then yourself--that's the order of things. I wanted to ease my magazine springs; it wasn't strictly necessary, but I felt that I needed to do it to mark the end of one phase and the beginning of a new one.
By now Kelly was sound asleep.
I plugged in the telephone to recharge it. It was my lifeline.
Then I tipped all the supplies out of the bag and sorted them out. The new clothes were put to one side, and I packed the CTR stuff back into the duffel. I was pissed off about having to leave the video camera on the roof; it would be found and a connection inevitably made between us and the shooting.
Plus, the videotape was lost, and that might have been of use to Simmonds--it might even have been enough to guarantee me a future.
I repacked the kit and lay back on the bed, hands behind my head. Listening to the low drone of the air-conditioning, I started to think about this whole fucking game and how people like me and McGear were the ones that got used time and time again. I was starting to feel sorry for myself. I cut it. McGear and I both had a choice; this was what we chose to do.
There were a few good things that had come out of last night's drama. At least I didn't have to worry about dumping all the blood-and piss-stained clothes that were in the blue duffel. The cops would no doubt match the blood to the Browns', but that was nothing compared with the trouble I was already in. And best of all, I had confirmed a definite connection between Kev, PIRA, the building, and whatever it was that I'd copied from that computer.
I wasn't going to attempt to get the laptop out and start messing around with it now. I was too tired; I'd make mistakes and miss things. Besides, the adrenaline had gone, and the pain across my back and neck was even more intense.
I had a hot shower and tried to shave. McGear's bite marks on my face were scabbing nicely. I left them to sort themselves out.
I dressed in jeans, sweatshirt, and running shoes and reloaded my mags. I needed rest, but I had to be ready for a quick move. The plan was to have a couple hours' sleep and something to eat, then sit down and see what was on the laptop, but it didn't work out. I tossed and turned, snatched a bit of sleep, woke up.
I turned the TV on and flicked through the channels to see ifMcGear was news yet. He was.
The cameras panned the front of the PIRA building, with the obligatory backdrop of police and ambulance crews, then a man faced the camera and started rattling on. I didn't bother turning the volume up; I knew the gist of what he'd be saying.
I was half-expecting to see my piss-covered homeless friend describing what he had heard or seen.
Kelly was starting to toss and turn, probably with pictures ofMcGear 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 had really started to worry about it. Seven-year-old kids shouldn't be exposed to this sort of shit. Nobody should. What would happen to 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: 9:35. At noon Pat would be calling me. I hit the Off button. I wanted to start working on the laptop. I started to get up and found I could hardly move. I felt like a very senior citizen as I lifted myself off the bed, my neck as stiff as a board.
I made a racket getting the laptop out of the duffel and plugging everything in. Kelly started to wriggle around. By the time I'd got it up and running and connected to the backup drive, she was propped up on one elbow watching me. Her hair looked like an explosion. She listened for a while as I cursed the laptop for not accessing the backup 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 smartass! Instead, I said, "Mmm, maybe." I rebooted, and it worked. I turned around and smiled at her and got one in return.
I started to scroll through the files. Instead of the business like file names I'd been expecting, the documents had code words like Weasel, Boy, Bruce. 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 could just as well have been in Japanese.
I then opened up the file called Guru. It was just dots and numbers across the screen. I turned to Kelly.
"What's that then, smart guy?"
She looked.
"I'm only seven, I don't know everything."
It was five minutes to noon. I turned the phone on and carried on flicking through the files, trying to make sense of them.
Twelve o'clock came and went.
By a quarter past, the call still hadn't come in. I was sweating. 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 managed it before. I tried to block dark thoughts by telling myself that he'd call at the next arranged window. But as I carried on halfheartedly 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 backup disk in my pocket. Kelly was half-buried under the covers, watching TV.
I joked, "Well, you know what I'm going to have to do in a minute, don't you?"
She jumped out of bed and threw her arms around me.
"Don't go! Don't go! Stay and watch TV with me. Maybe 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."
"I will, I will!" 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'll get changed into your new clothes, and then we'll go out. OK?"
She was trembling 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."
I found nothing more about McGear. After a while I walked into the bathroom. The toothpaste tube hadn't been squeezed.
"Have you brushed your teeth?"
She nodded, looking guilty.
I said, "Well, let's have a smell." I bent down an
d put my nose near her mouth.
"You haven't. Come on, do you know how to brush your teeth?"
"Of course 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, "It is, too."
I slowly shook my head. 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 all came 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 around in little circles. And let's make sure we do the backs."
And then it got silly. 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 got on with her bath and changed into her new jeans and sweatshirt. I'd also bought us matching baseball hats at the supermarket, black denim with the words Washington,
D.C.
I wet my hair and washed, and we both looked sparkly clean. She put on her new blue coat and sneakers and we were all 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 right away.
What was I going to do with the backup disk? I decided to hide it in the room, because I was going to split my gold; if the backup stayed here and Kelly came with me and we were lifted, at least they wouldn't have the whole enchilada. 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 telltales. One last look around the room and we left.
It was drizzling and slightly colder than earlier in the morning. Kelly was on cloud nine; I gave her the same smiles and happy noises back but underneath I was sweating about Pat. As we crossed the grass to avoid the lobby, 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.
