We got out on Wisconsin. It was four o’clock and everybody around us looked so normal as they chatted, strolled and enjoyed their shopping. We spent the next hour or so walking and snacking. By 5.30 the Georgetown mall where we were sitting was quite warm and we were both feeling sleepy.
I was having a coffee, she was having a milk shake, which she wasn’t touching because by now she was full of burger. I looked at the display of my watch every half-minute until it was 5.55. Then I switched on the phone. Good battery level, good signal strength.
Six o’clock came.
Nothing.
A minute past.
Two minutes past.
I sat there almost paralysed with disbelief. Kelly was absorbed in a comic she’d picked out for herself.
Four minutes past. This was desperate. Pat wouldn’t let me down unless he couldn’t help it. He knew as well as I did that, on operations, if you’re a minute late you might as well be an hour or a day late, because people’s lives might depend on it. The attack might have had to go in, unsupported by your covering fire.
There must be a problem. A major problem.
I kept the phone switched on. Finally, at 6.20 I said, ‘Come on, Kelly, we’re going to visit Pat.’
Now the normality stopped. There was shit on. All hope had evaporated.
28
We came out of the mall and I flagged down a cab.
Riverwood turned out to be a well-established, upmarket area, rows of weatherboarded houses with neat lawns and a couple of European cars in the drive, and smart apartment blocks with underground parking. The shops reflected its wealth, with good bookshops, expensive-looking clothes boutiques and small art galleries.
I stopped the cab a block past Pat’s street. I paid him off and he left us in the light rain. It was getting dark, a bit earlier than it should have done, but the cloud cover made everything gloomy. Some cars already had their headlights on.
‘Let’s hope Pat’s in,’ I said, ‘otherwise we’ll have to go all the way back to the hotel without saying hello!’
She looked excited about meeting him. After all, this was the man I’d said would help her go back home. I couldn’t be sure if what I had said about her family had sunk in. I didn’t even know if kids of that age understood what death was and, if they did, that it was irreversible.
Looking up the hill, I could see that Pat’s street was pure Riverwood, broad and elegant, with houses and shops that had been there for years. Above the skyline one or two new apartment blocks seemed to be taking over, but even they looked very ordered, clean and wealthy. I wasn’t entirely sure which one he lived in, but it was easy enough to count the numbers and work it out. We walked past, and I had a clear view into the rear secure car park. I saw the red Mustang, redder than Satan’s bollocks. It was 7.15. If he was there, why the fuck hadn’t he phoned?
We went into a coffee shop opposite. The waft of newly ground beans and the blare of rumba music inside La Colombina took me straight back to Bogotá; maybe that was why Pat had chosen to live here. We wanted a window seat, which wasn’t a problem. The glass was misted up; I cleared a circle with a paper napkin and sat and watched.
Kelly was doing what she had been told, keeping quiet until I told her not to be. Anyway,
Girl!
magazine seemed the thing to shut kids up with. I checked the phone. Good signal, plenty of power.
A waitress came over to take our order. I was going to ask for food, even though I didn’t really want it, because it would take time to prepare it, and then it would take time to eat it, and that way we could spend more time here without it looking unnatural.
‘I’ll take a club and a large cappuccino,’ I said. ‘And what do you want, Josie?’
Kelly beamed at the waitress. ‘Do you do Shirley Temples?’
‘Sure we do, honey!’
It sounded like a cocktail to me, but the waitress went away quite happily to order it. Kelly went back to her magazine and I just kept looking out of the window.
The drinks arrived. When we were alone again I said, ‘What is that?’
‘Cherries and strawberries, mixed with Sprite.’
‘Sounds disgusting. I’d better try some.’
It tasted like bubble gum to me, but it was obviously what kids liked. She was slugging it down good-style.
The sandwich mountain arrived. I didn’t need it, but I ate it anyway. In my days in the Regiment and since, I’d learned to think of food the way an infantryman thinks of sleep. Get it down you whenever you get the chance.
Things were running their natural course in the coffee shop; it was now coming up for three-quarters of an hour that we’d been sitting there, and you can only stay in a place for so long without arousing suspicion or drowning in coffee.
Kelly made the decision for me as she spoke. ‘What are we going to do now?’
I put some cash down on the table. ‘Let’s zip you up and see if Pat is at home.’
We went out and walked past Pat’s apartment once more. The car was still there. I was desperate to know one way or another what was going on. If it was just that he didn’t want to play any more, fair one. But I couldn’t really see that; I knew that he wanted to help. There was a problem, without a doubt. But I needed it confirmed; then I could reassess and make a plan without him in it.
As we walked back down the hill Kelly said, ‘Do you actually know where Pat lives?’
‘Yes, I do, but I know he’s not there yet. We’ve just walked past his place and I couldn’t see him.’
‘Can’t you phone him?’
I couldn’t contact him directly; if the phone was tapped I didn’t want anyone to make the connection between us. I’d promised not to compromise him. But she’d just given me an idea all the same.
‘Kelly, do you want to help me play a trick on Pat?’
‘Oh yeah!’
‘OK, this is what I want you to do.’
We carried on walking and started to do a circuit around the area. We practised and practised, until she said she was ready to go. We got to a phone box about three blocks away, a half-sized booth attached to the wall. I brought the receiver down to Kelly’s level. ‘Ready?’
She gave me a thumbs up. She was excited; she thought this was great.
I dialled 911, and about three seconds later Kelly was shouting, ‘Yes, I’ve just seen a man! I’ve just seen a man on the second floor, 1121 Twenty-seventh Street and . . . and . . . he’s got a gun and the man’s shot, and . . . and . . . and he’s got a gun – please help!’
I put my hand on the hook.
‘Good one! Now, shall we go and see what happens next?’
I picked a different route back. This time we were going to approach from the top of the hill and walk down towards the apartment block. By now it was properly dark and still very wet. Heads bent in the rain, we made it to Twenty-seventh Street, turned right and started walking slowly down the hill.
I heard the siren first, louder and louder, then the flash of its emergency lights as a blue-and-white sped past us. Then I saw other blue and red lights, all flashing in the darkness in the area of the apartment block.
As we got closer I made out three police cars. An unmarked car also turned up, a portable light flashing on the roof, just above the driver.
We walked further down and stopped at a bus stop. All I was doing was watching and waiting – much like everybody else, as a small crowd had gathered.
‘Are they all coming for Pat?’ Kelly asked.
I was too busy feeling depressed to answer; the sight of an ambulance arriving had pole-axed me. I stroked her head over her coat hood.
‘I’ll tell you about it in a minute. Just let me watch what’s happening.’
We waited, like everyone else. A quarter of an hour went by. By now local TV news crews were turning up. Then I saw them come out – two boys with a trolley, and on top was a corpse in a body bag. I didn’t have to see the face to know who was inside. I only hoped it had been quick for him, but, judging by the condition of the Browns, I had a terrible feeling that it hadn’t.
I said quietly, ‘We’re going to go now, Kelly. Pat’s not there tonight.’
I felt as if one of my most treasured possessions had been stolen from under my nose and I knew that I’d never get it back. Our friendship had been rekindled after all these years and this was the price he had paid for it. I felt lost and desperate, as if I’d got detached from the rest of my patrol in hostile territory, without a map or a weapon, and no hint of which way to go. He had been a true friend. Even after all these years of not seeing each other I would miss the man with no arse.
As Pat was being loaded into the ambulance I forced myself to cut away from the emotion. I turned and started to walk back down the way we’d come, to avoid the police. One of the cars had now left with its siren going and the ambulance was just about to. I imagined the scene-of-the-crime people inside the apartment, putting on their coveralls and unpacking their gear. Again I tried to cut away, make myself look at the situation logically: Pat was gone, now all I had left was Euan. But it was much harder to do than it normally was.
We took the first left to get off the main drag and I listened as the ambulance siren twice went off to manoeuvre in the traffic. We carried on along the road. It wasn’t a main thoroughfare and was residential on both sides, large houses with wide stone staircases leading up to the front doors.
I had Kelly’s hand and we were walking without talking.
Feelings about Pat had no place in my mind at the moment. What mattered was what information he could have given about us to whoever had zapped him. PIRA or Luther and co, who could tell? It had to be one or the other. Assuming his death was connected with me, of course. Fuck knows what else he could have been up to. However, I had to work on the basis that whoever killed him wanted to know where we were. All Pat knew was the phone number and that I was planning on going into the PIRA office. OPSEC might have saved our lives.
I was thinking so hard that at first the voice didn’t really register. Then I thought it was Kelly, and I was going to give her hand a bit of a squeeze and tell her to be quiet and let me think. But then it spoke again, a man’s voice, low and resolute, and this time there was no mistaking the words.
‘Freeze. If you move, I’ll kill you. Stay exactly where you are. Do not move.’
It wasn’t a druggy voice; it wasn’t a young nervous voice; it was a voice that was in total control.
29
I kept my hands where they were.
Kelly flung her arms around my waist.
‘It’s OK, it’s all right. They aren’t going to hurt you,’ I lied like a cheap watch.
His footsteps moved from behind me and to the left. He must have come from the service alley that ran behind the houses we’d just passed.
He said, ‘You have two choices. Get smart by keeping still. Get dead by moving.’ The voice was late twenties, early thirties, precise, well drilled.
It was pointless trying to draw down on him. He would kill me the instant I made a move.
I decided to take choice one.
More footsteps came from the other side and somebody was tugging Kelly away. She cried out, ‘Nick! Nick!’ but I could do nothing to help and her grip was no match for theirs. She was dragged behind me and out of sight. I still couldn’t see anything of the guys who’d caught us. I made myself calm down and accept what was happening.
The voice started to give me commands in the same no-nonsense, almost pleasant voice. He said, ‘I want you to raise your hands slowly and put them on top of your head. Do that now.’
When I’d complied he said, ‘Now turn around.’
I turned slowly and saw a short, dark-haired man aiming a pistol at me in a very professional manner. He was standing about 10 metres from me at the entrance to the alleyway. He was breathing heavily, probably after running round the streets to find us both. He was wearing a suit and I saw velcro. I now knew who had got to Pat.
‘Walk towards me. Do it now.’
I couldn’t see Kelly. She must already have been taken down the alleyway. They had got her at last. I pictured Aida’s savaged little body as I came towards him.
‘Stop. Turn left.’ Very low, very calm and confident. As he said it I heard a car pull up to my right, and out of the corner of my eye I could see it was the Caprice from the first motel.
‘Walk.’
I moved into the alleyway. Still no sign of Kelly.
I heard ‘Get on your knees.’
I knelt down. I’d never been particularly worried about dying; we’ve all got to check out some time. When it did happen I just wanted it to be nice and quick. I’d always hoped there was an afterlife, but not as reincarnation back on Earth. I’d hate to find myself back here as something low down the food chain. But I wouldn’t mind a spiritual thing, where you just become aware of everything, from the truth about the creation of mankind to the recipe for Coca-Cola. I’d always had the feeling that I was going to die young, but this was just a bit too early.