Remote Control ns-1 Page 7

  As I opened it I said, "I've got loads of things--I've got candy, sandwiches, chips--and I've even got you a Goose-bumps book to read."

  I figured it was better to buy stuff to occupy her mind rather than try to cuddle or console her. I'd have felt really uncomfortable with that anyway.

  She was lying on the bed exactly where I'd left her, staring in the direction of the television set, but not really watching, her eyes glazed over.

  As I put everything down on the other bed I said, "Right, I reckon what you need now is a nice hot bath. I've even bought some Buzz Lightyear bubble bath."

  It would give her something to do, and maybe relax her out of the catatonic state she was in. Apart from that, when I handed her over to the Firm I wanted them to see that I'd made an effort and that she was all nice and clean. After all, she was my friend's kid.

  I turned the taps on and called back into the room, "Come on then, get undressed."

  She didn't reply. I went back into the bedroom, sat at the end of the bed, and started undressing her. I thought she might resist, but instead she sat placidly as I pulled off her shirt.

  "You do your jeans," I said. She was only seven, but I felt awkward about taking those off.

  "Come on, undo your buttons." In the end, I had to. She was miles away.

  I carried her into the bathroom. Good old Buzz Lightyear had done his job; the bubbles were halfway to the ceiling. I tested the water, lifted her into the bath, and she sat down without a word.

  "There's loads of soap and shampoo," I said.

  "Do you want me to help you wash your hair?"

  She sat stock-still in the water. I gave her the soap, which she just stared at.

  It was nearly time to call London again. At least I wouldn't have to go to a phone booth for this one; she'd be out of earshot in the bath. Just in case, I kept the TV on.

  There was some weird and wonderful cartoon on: three characters in jeans, half man, half shark, who said things like "Fin-tastic!" and "Shark time!" Apparently they didn't kick ass, they kicked dorsal. The Street Sharks. The opening credits finished and I dialed London.

  Immediately I heard "PIN number, please?"

  I gave it. She went, "One moment."

  A few seconds later the phone went dead.

  That was strange. I dialed again, gave my PIN number, and again got cut off.

  What the fuck was going on? I tried to reason with my self, tried to tell myself that this was just a fuck-up. But really, inside, I knew the truth. It had to be deliberate. Either that, or maybe, just maybe, the phone line was down. No good thinking about it. Take action.

  I went into the bathroom.

  "The phone's not working," I said.

  "I'll just go down to the one on the corner. Is there anything else we need from the store? I tell you what, we'll go down there later on, the two of us, together."

  Her gaze didn't leave the tiles at the end of the bath.

  I lifted her out and put a towel around her.

  "You're a big girl now. You can dry yourself." I took the hairbrush from the bag and dragged Kelly into the bedroom.

  "Once you've done that, brush your hair, and make sure you're all dry and dressed when I come back. We might have to go somewhere.

  Don't open the door for anyone, OK?"

  There was no answer. I pulled out the phone jack and left. I was feeling apprehensive as I walked across the parking lot. I'd done nothing wrong, so why were they cutting me off? Was the Firm going to stitch me up? I started to go through all the scenarios in my head. Did they think I was the killer? Were they cutting away now as a prelude to denying everything?

  I got to the phone, dialed, and the same thing happened. I slowly put down the receiver. A low wall made up part of the entrance to the hotel; I went and sat down. I needed to think hard. It didn't take long to decide that there was only one option, and that was to phone the embassy. I'd be breaking every rule in the book. I wouldn't even bother going through all the protocol; I dialed 411 and got the number. I got straight through.

  "Hello, British Embassy. How may I help you?"

  "I want to talk to LOSO."

  "Excuse me?"

  "LOSO. Liaison officer, special operations."

  "I'm sorry, we don't have an extension number for that name."

  "Get hold of the defense attache and tell him there's some body on the phone who wants to speak to LOSO. It's really important. I need to speak to him now."

  "Hold on a moment." She put me on hold and I waited.

  Another woman came on the line.

  "Hello, how may I help you?"

  "I want to talk to LOSO."

  "I'm sorry, we have no one of that appointment."

  "Then put me through to the DA."

  "Sorry, the defense attache is not here. Can I help you?

  Would you like to give me a name and contact number?"

  I said, "Listen, this is the news. I want LOSO or the DA to pass this on. I've tried to phone in on my PIN number. My PIN number's two-four-two-two, and I'm getting blanked off.

  I'm in a really bad situation at the moment and I need some help. Tell LOSO or the DA that if I don't make contact with London, I'm going to expose what I've got in my security blanket. I will call back in three hours' time."

  The woman said, "Excuse me, could you repeat that?"

  "No, you're recording the message will be understood.

  All you've got to do is pass that on to the DA or LOSO, I don't give a fuck which one. Tell them I'll call London on the PIN line in three hours' time."

  I put the phone down. The message would get to them.

  Chances were the DA or LOSO was listening anyway.

  Some of the operations I'd been on had been so dirty that no one would want them exposed, but that could cut two ways: it also meant that someone like me would be expendable if things weren't working too well. I'd always operated on the basis that if you were involved in deniable operations for the intelligence services and hadn't prepared an out for the day they decided to shaft you, then you deserved every thing you got. The head honcho knew that Ks had security blankets, but everybody denied it the operators denied it, the Firm denied it. I'd always been sure that the Firm put as much effort into trying to find where the blackmail kit was hidden as they did into the operations themselves.

  I'd committed myself now. It was a card I could play only once. No way would I be living an easy existence after this. I was finished with the Secret Intelligence Service and would probably have to spend the rest of my life in a remote mountain village in Sri Lanka, looking over my shoulder.

  What if the Firm decided to admit to the Americans that there'd been an op they'd forgotten to mention? Would they take the rap on the knuckles, then say, "This man killed one of your officers"? No, it didn't work that way. The Firm wouldn't know if my blanket was a bluff or not, or, if used, how much damage it could do in the hands of the press.

  They'd have to take it as real; they'd have to help. They had no choice. We'd get lifted by the Firm, I'd be flown back to the UK, and then I'd take up basket weaving until they forgot about me.

  Kelly was lying on the bed with a towel wrapped around her when I got back to the room. The cartoon had finished, and there was some sort of hard-hitting news-type voice on, but I didn't pay much attention to it. I was more interested in getting a response from this little girl. It seemed that I was fast running out of friends; she might be just seven years old but I wanted to feel she was on my side.

  I said, "We've got to hang around for another hour or two, and then somebody's coming to..."

  And then it hit me. The no-nonsense. New England female voice was saying, "... brutal murders and a possible kidnap..." I switched my attention to the screen.

  She was black and in her mid-thirties. Her face was on camera, with Kev's house in the background and the Windstar still in the drive. Police were milling around two ambulances with flashing lights.

  I grabbed the remote and hit the Off
button.

  "Kelly, naughty girl." I grinned.

  "You haven't cleaned your neck. Just you go and do it right this minute!"

  I nearly threw her into the bathroom.

  "And don't come out until I tell you to!"

  I hit the On button and kept the volume low.

  The woman said,"... neighbors report seeing a white man in his late thirties, around five-foot-ten to six feet tall, medium build, with short brown hair. He arrived at the house in a white Dodge with Virginia plates at approximately two forty-five today. We now have Lieutenant Davies from the Fairfax County Police Department..."

  A balding detective was standing beside her.

  "We can confirm that there was a male fitting that description, and we're appealing for more witnesses. We need to know the whereabouts of the Browns' seven-year-old daughter, Kelly."

  A picture came up on the screen of Kelly standing in the garden with Aida, with a spoken description. The broadcast cut back to a studio shot of the two anchors saying that the family was a victim of what appeared to be drug-related murders. A family portrait appeared on the screen.

  "Kevin Brown was a member of the Drug Enforcement Administration ..."

  The anchors expanded the piece into a discussion about the drug problem in the D.C. area.

  There was no sound of splashing water from the bathroom.

  Kelly would be out again any minute. I started flicking channels. Nothing more on the murders. I switched back to children's TV and went into the bathroom.

  I hadn't heard any splashing because Kelly wasn't washing.

  She was on the floor, under the sink, in the same fetal position I'd found her in at Kev's, hands over her ears to block out the news she'd just heard on the TV.

  I wanted to pick her up and comfort her. The only thing was, I didn't know how. I decided to appear unaffected by her condition.

  "Hello, Kelly." I smiled.

  "What are you doing down there?"

  Her eyes were shut so tight I could see the creases in her face. I picked her up in my arms and started to walk back into the bedroom.

  "Hey, you look sleepy. Do you want to watch TV or just go to bed?" It sounded like crap to me but I just didn't know what else to say or do. Best pretend it hadn't happened.

  I took the towel off to get her dressed.

  "Come on, let's get some clothes on and your hair combed." I was really fighting for words now.

  She just sat there. Then, as I started to pull her shirt on, she said quietly, "Mommy and Daddy are dead, aren't they?"

  Getting her arms into the shirt suddenly became very interesting

  "What makes you say that? I told you, I'm just looking after you for a while."

  "So I'm going to see Mommy and Daddy again?"

  I didn't have the words to use, or the guts to tell her.

  "Yes, of course you will. It's just that they had to go away really quickly. I told you, it was too late to pick you up, but they asked me to look after you. As soon as they come back I'll take you to Mommy and Daddy and Aida. I didn't know it was going to take this long; I thought it was going to be only a couple of hours. But they will be back soon."

  There was a slight pause as she worked through it all. I got her panties and placed her feet in them and pulled them up.

  "Why didn't they want to take me. Nick?" She sounded sad at the thought.

  I moved over to the chair and picked up her jeans. I didn't want her to see my eyes.

  "It isn't that they didn't want to take you, but there was a mistake made, and that's why they asked me to look after you."

  "Just like Home Alone I turned around and saw that she was smiling. I had to think about that one.

  "Yeah, that's right, just like Home Alone. They left you by mistake!" I remembered watching it on a flight.

  Shitty film but good booby traps. I busied myself with her jeans again.

  "So when are we going to see them?"

  I couldn't spend all day picking up two bits of clothing. I did a half turn and walked back toward the bed.

  "That won't be for a while yet, but when I spoke to them just now they wanted me to tell you that they love you, and they're missing you, and to do everything I say and be a good girl."

  There was a beaming smile on her face. I wished I had the courage to tell her the truth.

  I said, "Kelly, you must do what I say, do you understand that?"

  "Yeah, I understand."

  She nodded, and I saw a little child needing affection.

  I gave her my best attempt at a smile. I looked into her eyes.

  "Come on, cheer up. Let's watch TV" We both went back to watch the Power Rangers, with a can of Mountain Dew. I couldn't take my mind off the news broadcast. Kelly's photograph had been on the TV. The receptionist the clothing store clerk, anyone might remember her. Surely the embassy had called London by now, surely every fucker knew what was going on because it was splashed all over the news. No need to wait three hours before making the call.

  I'd have to go to the outside phone again because I didn't want Kelly to hear. I put Kev's jacket on, slipped the TV remote control into a pocket, told her where I was going, and left.

  As I came to the stairs by the Coke machine I looked down.

  Two cars had pulled up outside the reception lobby. Both were empty, but their doors were still open as if the occupants had piled out in a hurry.

  I looked again. Besides a normal radio antenna each vehicle had a two-foot antenna on the back. One of the cars was a white Ford Taurus, the other a blue Chevy Caprice.

  There was no time to think, just to turn around and run toward the rear fire exit like a man possessed. Now wasn't the time to worry about how they'd found us. As I ran, the options started to race through my mind. The obvious one was to leave Kelly where she was and let them pick her up. She was a millstone around my neck. On my own, I could get away.

  So why did I stop running? I wasn't too sure; instinct told me that she had to come with me.

  I doubled back and burst into the room.

  "Kelly, we've got to go! Come on, get up!"

  She'd been drifting off to sleep. There was a look of horror on her face because of my change of tone.

  "We've got to go!"

  Grabbing her coat, I picked her up in my arms and started toward the door. I snatched up her shoes and stuffed them into my pockets. She made a sound, half-frightened, half-protesting.

  "Just hold on!" I said. Her legs were wrapped around my waist.

  I came out onto the landing. I closed the door behind us, and it locked automatically. They'd have to break it down. I did a quick check down the corridor, not bothering to look below to see what was happening. I'd know soon enough if they were behind us.

  I turned left and ran to the end of the corridor, turned left again, and there was the fire exit. I pushed the bar and it opened. We came out onto an open concrete staircase at the rear of the hotel, facing the shopping mall about a quarter of a mile away. Kelly started to cry.

  There was no time to be nice. I got hold other head so that her face came right up to mine.

  "People have come to take you away, do you understand that?" I knew it would frighten her, and that it would probably fuck up her mind even more, but I didn't care about that.

  "I'm trying to save you. Shut up and do what I say!"

  I squeezed her cheek hard and shook her face.

  "Do you understand me, Kelly? Shut up, and hold me very tight."

  I buried her face in my shoulder and lunged down the concrete stairs, looking for my escape route. Ahead of us lay about forty yards of rough grass, and beyond that a six-foot chain-link fence that looked old and rusty. On the other side of that was the rear of the long row of office buildings that faced the main road. Some were brick, some were plaster, all different styles built over the last thirty years. The rear administration area was strewn with clutter and large Dumpsters.

  There was a pathway running across the empty ground, and it
went through at a point where a whole section of the chain-link fence had crumpled or been pulled down. Maybe the hotel and office workers used it as a shortcut.

  Carrying Kelly was like having a rucksack on the wrong way. That was going to be no good if I had to run fast, so I threw her around onto my back, linking my hands under her butt so I was carrying her piggyback. I got to the bottom of the stairs and stopped and listened. No sound of them shouting or breaking down the door yet. The urge was just to run for it across the grassy dirt toward the gap in the fence, but it was important to do this correctly.

  Still with Kelly on my back, not bothering to tell her what was happening, I got onto my hands and knees. I lowered myself to within about a foot of the floor and slowly stuck my head around the corner. There was a chance that once I'd seen what was happening, I'd choose a different route.

  The two cars had pulled up to the bottom of the staircase by the Coke machine. The fuckers were obviously upstairs. I didn't know how many of them there were.

  I realized that the ground was in fact dead ground to them now, and started running. The rain had been light but constant, and the ground was muddy. It was reasonably well looked after, littered only here and there with bits of paper, old soft drink cans, and burger wrappers. I kept heading for the gap in the chain-link fence.

  Kelly was weighing me down; I was taking short, quick strides and not bending my knees too much, just enough to take her weight, bending forward from the hips. She made in voluntary grunts in time with the running movements as the wind was knocked out of her.

  We reached the broken section of fence, which was buried in the mud. I heard the screech of tires, then the sound of protesting suspension and body work. I didn't bother looking around, just dug deep to try to lengthen my stride.

  Once through, we were faced with the rear of the office buildings. I couldn't see the alleyway we'd come through earlier. I turned left, looking for any other route through to the main drag. There had to be one somewhere.

  Now on asphalt, I could make good speed, but Kelly started slipping. I shouted, "Hold on!" and felt her tense up more.

  "Harder, Kelly, harder!"

  It wasn't working. With my left hand I got hold of both her wrists and pulled them down in front of me toward my waist.