Crisis Four Read online

  ‘Oh . . . can’t you come here? It would mean we wouldn’t get back until late.’

  They only lived an hour from the airport, but anything to fuck me about.

  ‘I can’t, I’m afraid. I’m a bit strapped for time.’

  ‘But where would we meet you?’ There was an edge of panic in her voice at the thought of having to do something so challenging, mixed with annoyance that today’s minute-by-minute routine was being disrupted. It must have been a riot growing up as Mr and Mrs Brown’s little boy.

  I’d sensed from the beginning that they – or rather, she – didn’t really like me. Maybe she blamed me for their son’s death; I certainly knew she resented the fact that I was the person he’d appointed as their granddaughter’s guardian, even though she knew very well that they were too old to look after her themselves. But fuck it, they’d be dead soon. I would just feel sorry for Kelly when that day came; she needed other people to support her, even if they were as suffocating as the Browns.

  When I got back to the car Kelly was pretending to be engrossed in another flyer, and without looking up she greeted me with a downright martyr’s sigh. I’d have to sort her out soon, or she was going to turn out like her poisoned granny.

  I kept it upbeat. ‘They’re really excited about you coming to stay today instead of next weekend, they can’t wait to see you and hear all about your time on the ship with everyone.’

  ‘OK. That means that I go back to school when everybody else does?’

  ‘Yes, but you’ll have a great time with Granny and Grandpa first.’

  She didn’t share my optimism, but she was switched on enough to know that, even though they might be boring, they loved her dearly. It was the only reason I put up with them.

  We got back onto the main drag and headed for the tunnel, me thinking about the RV details I’d been given. From Kelly there was nothing but brooding, oppressive silence and I didn’t really know how to break it.

  Eventually I said, ‘I’ll phone you at school one lunchtime next week, OK?’

  She perked up. ‘You will? You’ll phone me?’

  ‘Sure I will. I don’t know when it will be, but I will.’

  She looked at me and raised an accusing eyebrow. ‘Is that going to be another one of your promises?’

  I smiled and nodded my head. I knew I was digging myself a very deep hole here, because every time I promised I seemed to fuck up; I didn’t have a clue what I’d be doing, and I knew it was a short-term gain. I hated this part of my responsibilities, I hated letting her down the way I’d been let down.

  I said, ‘Not just a promise – a double promise. We’ll talk about all the things we’ll do on our next holiday. I’ll make it up to you, you’ll see.’

  She was studying my face, sizing me up. Having gained an inch, she was going to go for the full mile. ‘Do I have to go to Granny and Grandad’s?’

  I could guess how she felt. She’d told me that when she was with them, she spent most of her time pulling her jumper back out of her jeans after Carmen had pulled them up to her armpits ‘to keep out the cold’. I wouldn’t want to be going there either, but I said, ‘It’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. You were going to stay with them next weekend after school anyway. Another weekend won’t hurt. I’ll have a little chat and see if they’ll take you to the aquarium to see those sharks we were talking about.’

  She gave me a look to let me know the aquarium trip wouldn’t happen. I knew she was right and ploughed on. ‘One thing’s for sure, I don’t want them to take you to the Bloody Tower; that’s our special thing, OK?’

  There was a slow acknowledgement, even though she probably knew there was more chance of her grandmother metamorphosing into Zoë Ball overnight. I indicated to get off the M23 on the last stretch towards the airport.

  Signs welcomed us to the North Terminal and I headed up to the short-term parking. I kept up my goodness-me-I’m-so-excited voice. ‘Right, let’s go and see if Granny and Grandad are here yet, shall we? Tell you what, if they aren’t, we’ll go and have something to eat. Hungry yet?’ That should keep Granny happy.

  She didn’t say it, but the look she gave me as she got out of the car said, Cut the crap, dickhead, I’ve had it up to here. She’d been hung out with the washing; she knew it, and she wanted me to know that she knew it. I got hold of her hand and bag, because there was traffic all over the place, and followed the signs to the North Terminal.

  I’d arranged to meet them in the Costa Coffee shop. It would be easy enough to find; even they could do it.

  I looked at my G-Shock, the one I’d bought to replace the one I’d lost. It was a Baby-G this time – the new one – and when you pressed the backlight button, a little surfer came up on one of the displays. I quite enjoyed that, even though it was the same little man doing the same little surfing thing every single time. Sad but true.

  It was just past one o’clock. They weren’t there yet. Trying to ease my guilt I took Kelly on a sightseeing tour of the shops and she landed up with bars of chocolate, an airline teddy bear and an All Saints CD. It was the easy way out; I knew it wouldn’t achieve anything, but it made me feel a bit better.

  We went back to the Costa Coffee shop and sat on bar stools with a view of the terminal entrance. She had an orange, I had a flat white, if that was what they called it, and we both had a sandwich as we sat watching a packed airport get fed, catch planes and generally spend more money in one hour than they would in an entire day on holiday.

  Kelly said, ‘Nick, do you know how long it takes before an elephant is born?’

  ‘Nope.’ I wasn’t really listening; I was too busy bending over my coffee and looking out for Wallace and Gromit, resisting looking at my watch.

  ‘Nearly two years.’

  ‘Oh, that’s interesting,’ I said.

  ‘OK, do you know how many people were in the world in 1960?’

  ‘Three years.’

  She’d sussed me out. ‘Nick . . . Three billion. But very soon the world will have a population of six billion.’

  I turned to look at her. ‘You’re very clever for a—’

  Then I saw what she was doing: reading facts off the back of sugar packets. ‘That’s cheating!’

  At last I got a smile from her. It turned into an actress’s smile when she said through gritted teeth, ‘Oh look, Granny and Grandad.’

  ‘Well, off you go then and say hello!’

  Muttering under her breath, she got off her stool and ran over to them. Their faces showed a mixture of relief at finding us and self-congratulation at being brave enough to be out and about in such a big, busy place. Kelly gave them both a hug; she did love them, it was just that they weren’t the sort of people you’d want to spend all day with, let alone a bonus weekend. Their trouble was, they didn’t actually do anything. They didn’t take her to the park or on outings; they just kind of sat there expecting her to draw pictures and drink cups of tea.

  Jimmy was wearing cream flannels and a beige anorak; Carmen wore clothes from the sort of catalogue that had Judith Chalmers on the cover. Jimmy’s face seemed to have no features whatsoever; he looked as if he’d been designed in a wind tunnel. Kev must have got his dark skin and eyes from his mother, who still looked attractive, even if she did believe people really thought her jet-black hair was natural.

  The pair of them were busy fussing all over her, asking her what she’d done as they walked towards me. I got in there first, flicking my eyes between them as I spoke. ‘Jim, Carmen, how are things?’ And before they could debrief me on the road conditions and the exact route they’d taken I got straight down to it. ‘Look, I’m sorry about this, but I’ve got to go. You sure you’re OK for the rest of the weekend?’

  They were both very happy. It was like Christmas again, except that that time it had been Heathrow and Kelly had had to be picked up four days early. They never understood why someone so erratic had been chosen as her guardian; they didn’t even know me and I was clearly not suited t
o the task. I bet they had me down as one of Kev’s wife’s friends. They never did like Marsha. When they weren’t blaming me for their son’s murder, they were probably blaming her, not that she was around to answer back.

  Carmen busied herself doing up the top button of Kelly’s shirt and tucking the whole thing back into her jeans. You can’t take any chances, the draughts you get in airports.

  I made sure they saw me take a quick look at my watch. I had loads of time, but it didn’t mean I wanted to stay. ‘I’ve really got to go now. Kelly, give us a hug and a kiss.’

  She wrapped her arms around me and I bent at the waist so we could kiss. Carmen hated that, because Kelly didn’t show them the same sort of sustained affection. She did with them only what she knew was expected, and I had to admit that made me feel good.

  I looked her in the eye and mimed a mock phone call with my hand. ‘I promise.’

  She raised an eyebrow and gave me a withering look. ‘Is that a Nick promise?’ she said quietly, so that only I could hear it. I suddenly saw about twenty years into the future; she was going to grow up into the sort of woman who could light a fire just by looking at it.

  ‘No,’ I said, equally quietly, ‘it’s an NPP.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Normal person’s promise.’

  She liked that one and nodded.

  I knew I’d dropped myself in the shit even more, just as my parents had done with me. By now it was almost unbearable. Carmen and Jimmy were uncomfortable with our private intimacy, and I really didn’t know how to behave in these situations. I was feeling more guilty than ever. I just wanted to leave.

  The look on Kelly’s face made me remember my thirteenth birthday. My parents didn’t. They made up for it by running to the corner shop and buying a board game in the shape of a robot for seventy-five pence. The reason I knew that was because it wasn’t even wrapped up, just in a bag with the price tag still on. I knew how it felt to be let down by the ones who are supposed to love you most.

  I whispered in her ear, ‘I’ve got to go.’

  As I stood up, Carmen’s nod told me I should have left ten minutes ago. She said, ‘We’ll be hearing from you, then?’ in that special way of hers that suggested she wouldn’t exactly be holding her breath.

  ‘Of course we will, Granny,’ Kelly said. ‘When Nick makes a promise he always keeps it.’ She might be lying through her teeth, but she knew when to back me up.

  I grinned. ‘Yeah, something like that. Bye now.’

  Jimmy smiled weakly. I couldn’t tell if he was happy or just had wind. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard him speak.

  Carmen decided it was time for Kelly to cut from me. ‘Oh, that’s nice, you’ve got a record, have you?’ she said. ‘Who’s it by?’

  ‘All Saints.’

  ‘Oh, they’re good, aren’t they? My favourite is the ginger one with the Union Jack dress.’

  ‘That’s the Spice Girls.’

  ‘Oh, is it?’ Carmen glared at me as if it was my fault, then rounded on Jimmy. ‘Grandad doesn’t like any of them; he doesn’t go for all that piercing.’

  Kelly looked at me and rolled her eyes. As the look changed to one of desperation, I turned on my heel and walked away.

  3

  I made as if to go back to the carpark, but instead jumped onto the transit train that would take me to the South Terminal. I kept thinking about the fuck-up and how Kelly must be feeling, but I would have to cut from that soon. I decided to use the two-minute journey to sort out my guilt, then bung the work cassette into the back of my head before I got off the train.

  The shuttle was full of all the usual airport suspects: young couples in matching football shirts, him with a team holdall, her with copies of Hello! magazine and wordsearch puzzle books; and businessmen in suits, carrying briefcases and laptops and looking in dire need of The Little Book of Calm.

  I walked into the South Terminal, following the signs to the short-term carpark, and took the lift to the top floor. I was in work mode now; everything else had been put to one side in another compartment.

  The exposed roof level was about three-quarters full. The deafening sound of aircraft taking off blanketed all the other noises of cars and clattering luggage trolleys. I half closed my eyes to protect them from the glare of sunlight as I started walking down the aisles.

  In a row of wagons, down the middle, I spotted what I’d been told to look for: a Toyota Previa people carrier, dark blue with tinted windows. Maybe the Firm had found a use for the ones brought back from Syria after all; it wasn’t as if Hertz would have been too happy to have them back. I went to the rear of the row of vehicles and started to follow the line of cars towards it.

  Since the change of government in 1997, every department seemed to be using people carriers. I didn’t know if it was policy or just that Tony Blair used one, but they were a great improvement – much more room for a briefing, instead of sitting hunched up in the back of a saloon with your knees around your head. Besides, they were easy to find in a hurry.

  As I got closer I spotted a driver in the front seat, filling up the right-hand side of the cab area, reading the Evening Standard and looking uncomfortable in his collar and tie. None of the windows were open. The size of his head and his flat-top haircut made it look as if it should have been sticking out of the turret of a Panzer.

  I approached casually from the rear, checking the number plate. I couldn’t exactly remember the full registration but I knew that it would be a P. The thing I was looking for was the VDM, and sure enough, above the Toyota sign, on the bottom left side of the tail, was the small chrome outline of a fish, the trademark of heavy-duty Christians. This was the one; I went up to the sliding door on the side and waited, listening to the engine purr.

  The door opened out a few inches, then slid back to reveal the two rows of passenger seats. I looked inside.

  I hadn’t seen Colonel Lynn for nearly a year, but he hadn’t changed much. He hadn’t lost any more hair, which I was sure he was happy about. His clothes were the same as always, mustard-coloured corduroy trousers, a sports jacket with well-worn leather elbows, and what looked like the same Viyella shirt he’d been wearing the last time we’d met, just a bit more frayed around the collar.

  I climbed in and slid the door closed behind me. I could feel the air-conditioning working overtime as I took my seat next to him and we shook hands. Lynn had that fresh-from-the-shower officer’s smell about him; maybe he’d taken in a quick game of squash at the Guards’ barracks in Chelsea before coming to the meeting. Between his feet was a dark-blue nylon daysack, which I recognized. It was my quick-move kit.

  There was somebody else in there, in the rear row of seats, who I also recognized. I turned and nodded politely at her. She returned the gesture, refolding her copy of the Daily Telegraph. It was only the second time that I’d met Elizabeth Bamber in person. Last time hadn’t gone too well; she was on the selection board which refused me permanent cadre. It seemed that our cultural differences didn’t endear us to each other during the interview.

  Permanent cadre are Ks – deniable operators on a salaried retainer – not freelancers like me, called on to carry out shit jobs that no-one else wants. The pay I got was £210 a day for ops, £160 for training days. I wasn’t too sure what the retainer was, but I knew that, like all other payments, it would be handed over in a brown envelope with no tax or national insurance to pay. It was a bit like casual labour, which made me feel used and fucked over, but I liked the money – what there was of it. In any case, it was the only line of work I’d ever known, and I was more afraid of what I would become without it.

  I didn’t know exactly what Elizabeth did, or for whom; all I knew was that she was one of those women who, if they weren’t working for the Intelligence Service, would probably own a stable full of racehorses. She probably did anyway. She had that sort of broken-veined, no-nonsense, out-in-the-fresh-air look about her. She was medium height and in her late
forties – or at least looked it, especially with her shoulder-length hair, which was 60 per cent grey, with a centre parting and a little fringe, though I doubted she gave much of a fuck about it. In fact, having hair was probably a bit of an inconvenience for someone like her, because it took valuable time to comb the stuff.

  She was wearing a very smart, sensible, grey two-piece that looked as if it had cost a fortune; it would have been economical in the long run, however, because she probably wore it every third day, alternating it with the two other equally expensive outfits she bought every year in the Harvey Nichols sale. Under her jacket was a blouse with a long scarf attached, which was tied into a bow. The smart but practical look was complemented by an almost total lack of make-up – it probably took too long in the morning to put it on, and she couldn’t be bothered with that: she had a country to protect.

  I made a half-turn back towards Lynn so that I only had to move my head to see each of them. There was silence for about half a minute, broken by the rustling of a newspaper in the front. I glanced to my left and saw the driver’s huge neck sitting on a very wide back and slightly hanging over his collar. I could see part of his face in the rear-view mirror; his pale skin and near-Slavic looks gave the game away: he was a Serb, no doubt promised passports for his entire family if he spied for us during the Bosnian war. This guy would now be more loyal to the UK than most Brits, myself included.

  Still we just sat there. Elizabeth was looking at me; I was looking at her. Come on, I thought, let’s get on with it. It always felt as if they were toying with me.

  It was Lynn who kicked off. ‘We haven’t seen you for a long time, Nick. How’s life?’

  As if he cared. ‘No complaints. How long am I going to be away?’

  ‘It will depend on how quickly you can get the task done. Listen to what Elizabeth has to say.’

  Elizabeth was primed, ready to go; she didn’t even have notes. She levelled her gaze on me, and said, ‘Sarah Greenwood.’ It was delivered more as a question than a statement, and her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she was expecting an answer.