by Ken McClure
Avedissian finished dressing the wound in the boy's neck as best he could then noticed that his own hands were shaking. He got up unsteadily and went to the bathroom to lean over the sink. His stomach turned over but he could not vomit. Instead his breathing became spasmodic and irregular as he re-lived the past thirty minutes. Kathleen came in and touched him gently on the shoulder. 'It's all over,' she murmured. 'You did the right thing.'
Jarvis opened the bottle of whiskey that Reagan had used to effect entry to the room and poured out three large measures. Avedissian gulped his own down and took comfort from the fire in his throat. 'Did you know?' he croaked accusingly at Jarvis.
'Know what?' asked Jarvis.
‘That the child was not who Bryant said he was?'
'What?' exclaimed Jarvis with genuine surprise. 'What the hell do you mean?'
Avedissian looked at the boy and said, 'This boy is no royal child, he's a deaf mute.'
Jarvis and Kathleen stared wide-eyed at Avedissian. 'I don't understand,’ said Kathleen. 'Of course he's the royal child. He's just lost his voice through shock. That's what the kidnapper said.'
Jarvis nodded his agreement. 'Take a look,’ he said. 'See for yourself.'
'I've never met the boy or his family,’ said Avedissian. 'Have you?'
'No,’ admitted Jarvis. 'But I've seen photographs, TV reports, newsreels.'
'It's not enough,’ said Avedissian. 'Many young children look the same when you know them superficially. You have to know them personally before particular characteristics become memorable. I'm a paediatrician, I know children. I know how they behave and I am telling you that this child has not suffered a temporary loss of speech. He has all the signs of being a deaf mute.'
'Are you saying that the kidnappers switched the child?' asked Kathleen.
Avedissian shook his head slowly and said, There are no kidnappers. There never were. It was a con. Bryant set it up.'
'But why?'
Twenty-five million dollars?' suggested Avedissian.
'And the IRA?'
'Judging by what we heard, they must have known all along that it was a con. They played along for the money too. You must be able to do a lot of damage when you're given twenty-five million at the one time.’
'Especially if your name is Kell,’ said Kathleen bitterly.
'So we are the only clowns in the circus,' said Jarvis.
'And him,’ said Avedissian, looking at the child whom Kathleen was cuddling and keeping warm. 'Just look what the bastards have done to him.'
'Well, neither of them got the money in the end,’ said Jarvis looking down at Roker's body.’ They killed him too soon.'
'What are we going to do?' asked Kathleen. 'We four seem to be the expendable ones in this game.'
'We'll have to get out of here!' said Jarvis. 'NORAID are going to start wondering why Roker, Shelby and the boy haven't turned up at the airport. In fact they're probably on their way here right now and, remember, they don't know that the boy was a trick! They don't know that it was the IRA who killed their men! They're going to think that the kidnappers tried some sort of double-cross and start hunting for them and the boy!'
'Maybe we should leave him,’ said Kathleen quietly. 'He might be properly taken care of.'
'He might not be,’ said Avedissian bitterly. 'It won't take long for them to discover that he's not who he's supposed to be and then what? How do they explain that away? Or maybe they don't. Maybe they just "rid" themselves of the problem.'
'What do you suggest?' asked Jarvis.
'We take him with us. We take him home and start finding out where the hell he came from in the first place.'
'How?'
'By asking Bryant,’ said Avedissian through his teeth.
NINE
Jarvis searched Shelby’s body and removed his gun. He gave it to Avedissian saying, 'You'd better have this.' He then pulled the corpse away from the door and looked around until he had found the room key. 'We'll lock it behind us,’ he said. That should give us a little extra time before someone finds this mess.' He looked distastefully at the needle protruding from under Roker's fingernail then said, 'Let's go.'
'The hotel has a side-entrance,’ said Jarvis as they hurried along the corridor. 'It'll be safer. Use the stairs,’ he added as Avedissian stopped at the elevators.
Avedissian, carrying the boy, who was still unconscious, followed Jarvis through the swing-doors leading to the fire-escape stairs while Kathleen held them open for him. They met no one on the way down and Jarvis put away the gun he had been holding ready in his hand.
The side-entrance to the hotel was used solely as a goods entrance so there was no call for decor or furnishings in the passages leading to it. Open pipe work crowded the ceiling and plain, white-washed walls lined their route. The hum of ventilation machinery was loud in their ears but seemed to do little to dispel the smell of food from the oppressively warm air. The clangs of kitchen utensils and the sound of voices were somewhere near but no one crossed their path.
As they came to the unimposing little side-door they paused to catch their breath. Kathleen pulled the blanket back from the boy's face and looked at him. 'Poor little mite,’ she said. 'How could they do it?'
The question had been rhetorical but it triggered off an idea in Avedissian's head. He suddenly bundled the boy into Kathleen's arms and said, 'I've got to go back! I won't be long.' He was gone before either Kathleen or Jarvis had had a chance to protest.
Avedissian climbed the stairs two at a time and was breathing hard by the time he reached Jarvis's floor and started running along the corridor. He tried the room door and found it locked; Jarvis still had the key. He drew back to the opposite side of the corridor and took a run at the door, crashing into it with his left shoulder. There was a splintering sound but the lock still held. It took two more attempts before the door flew back on its hinges and crashed open against the wall.
Avedissian could hear doors opening as people came out to investigate the commotion but there was no time to concern himself with that. He was only going to be a few seconds. He collected what he had come for and ran back along the corridor, brushing clumsily past a fat lady in dressing-gown and curlers who snorted her disapproval.
'What on earth did you go back for?' asked Kathleen when Avedissian re-appeared.
'The boy's future,' gasped Avedissian, still out of breath. 'Let's get out of here. I created a bit of a stir up there.'
Avedissian took the boy from Kathleen while Jarvis opened both inner and outer fly-screen doors. Jarvis looked out both ways before saying, 'It's all clear.'
They hurried towards an illuminated sign that told them where the exit from the underground garage was and stopped at the head of the ramp. Jarvis said, 'Wait here with the boy. I'll bring up the car.'
As they waited in quiet limbo, Avedissian looked up. The air was still and warm and the sky laden with stars. A faint smell of blossom made him think of Cambridge in England. He was trying to recall the name of a piece of music coming faintly from an upper floor of the hotel when a sudden violent, but muffled, explosion rocked the building and shattered the peace of the night.
Black smoke billowed up from the garage and hung indecisively round the entrance like a great cloud in search of a breeze. Avedissian and Kathleen stared at the sight in disbelief, both unwilling to believe what they feared must have happened. But there was no escaping it: Jarvis must be dead. There had been a bomb in the car.
'What do we do?' asked Kathleen, her eyes filled with fear.
'We get away from here,' said Avedissian, unable to think beyond the moment.
They hurried along the lane and paused briefly to look back at the scene. The smoke was thinning. It drifted past the neon sign at the garage like a cloud across the moon. A group of people had now congregated at the head of the ramp and the sound of approaching sirens was becoming insistent.
As they watched, a long black saloon car entered the lane and three men got out.
They seemed more interested in the sight of the man carrying the child at the far end of the lane than in what had happened in the garage below.
They're NORAID!' said Avedissian. 'Let's move!'
'Where are we going?' gasped Kathleen as they raced down the side-street at the end of the lane.
'To find a cab!' answered Avedissian, his arms aching with the weight of the boy.
Kathleen risked a glance back and said in a voice courting Panic, They're gaining!'
'Keep going!' urged Avedissian. He could see the lights of the main thoroughfare fifty metres ahead but knew that they were being rapidly caught. 'When we turn the corner, you take the boy! '
They turned the corner and Avedissian bundled the boy over to Kathleen and said, 'Go and find a cab! I'll hold them off!'
Kathleen did as she was bid and Avedissian drew out the pistol that had been taken from the dead American. He waited with his cheek pressed up against the cold stone of the wall until he could hear the sound of running footsteps grow louder. For an instant he was back in Belfast, a long time ago. The fear in his stomach had a strange sexuality about it, danger, excitement, heightened awareness, a feeling only to be experienced on the very edge of disaster.
Holding the pistol in both hands and at arm's length, Avedissian stepped out smartly and dropped to one knee to fire at the approaching figures.
With the first bullet one of the running men pitched forward and fell to the ground. Avedissian heard a gun clatter from his grasp. The other man took panic in mid-flight and tried to stop too quickly. His arms and legs flailed in unsynchronised action as he sought cover from the totally unexpected. He loosed off a couple of wild shots in Avedissian's direction but was hopelessly off-balance. Avedissian held the gun on him and squeezed the trigger twice.
The street was silent. There were two bodies lying in it and no sign of the third man who had been in the black saloon.
Avedissian waited for a few moments, holding the gun in front of him, ready to fire at the slightest movement, but all was quiet. He put the gun away and hurried off to find Kathleen. He found her sitting in a yellow cab by the kerb, some two hundred metres from where he had left her. She was having a discussion with the driver about payment for waiting time.
‘The Rainbow Inn,' said Avedissian, getting in the cab and putting an end to the conversation. Kathleen almost fainted with relief at the sight of him. 'Are you all right?' she whispered. Avedissian nodded in reply.
'You folks are English?' said the driver.
'We're visiting relations,' said Avedissian.
'And you are staying in the Rainbow Inn?' said the driver. 'Guess your relations ain't got much room.'
Avedissian silently cursed nosey cab drivers.
'Is the kid sick?' asked the driver.
'Just tired.'
'Well, it's late,’ said the driver. 'Maybe too late for a little kid like that
'You know how it is, all the relations want to see him. It won't do him any harm.'
'Guess not.'
Avedissian was relieved to see the illuminated 'Rainbow Inn' sign come up on their right-hand side. 'Just drop us here,' he said to the driver.
'I can take you right into the parking lot.'
This is fine.'
Avedissian gave the man the fare and a big tip and was glad to see the back of him. He looked around for inspiration and saw the sign of a fast food restaurant. 'In there,' he said to Kathleen. 'We have to talk.'
It was late and there was only a handful of people in the restaurant. They found a booth well away from the others and settled the boy in the corner. Avedissian checked the child's pulse surreptitiously and said, 'He's all right.' He bought coffee at the counter and returned to join Kathleen.
'We're in big trouble,' he said. 'I thought we might be able to check in at the Rainbow for the night but I've changed my mind. All NORAID have to do is ask the local taxi drivers about a couple with a child and they would find us. They're already going to find out about our "English" accents.'
'So what can we do?' asked Kathleen.
'I'll pick up the car from the car park and we'll drive somewhere.'
'What about the boy? Doesn't he need proper care at a hospital?'
'We can't risk it. We can't answer all the questions they would ask. They would call the police. I can look after him if I can get what I need.'
Avedissian left Kathleen and the boy in the restaurant and went to pick up their car. The parking lot seemed free of people when he got there but he stood for a few moments in the shadows to make sure. The fewer people who saw him the better. Satisfied that he was alone, he crossed quickly to the BMW and unlocked the door. The interior smelled of newness and leather. Outside, the lights of the Inn were reflected in the paintwork of the bonnet.
He inserted the ignition key and froze, sitting motionless for a moment, cold with fear as he recalled the pall of black smoke outside the Plaza Hotel. Surely the IRA could not have known about this car? he reasoned. It was conceivable that Innes had found out about Jarvis being at the same hotel but surely not about the other car he’d parked at the Rainbow?
Avedissian could not turn the key. He let it go and pulled the bonnet release instead.
What was to be a reassuring look under the hood turned out to be the inspiration of a nightmare for there, strapped to the engine cover with bright yellow sticky tape, was a rectangular lump of something that looked like Plasticine.
The muscles in Avedissian's throat contracted and he held his breath as he traced the path of the two wires emanating from one end of the lump. One went to the ignition coil, the other to an earth point on the body. He saw the simple logic of it. If he had turned the key, power would have flowed from the battery to the coil and from the coil to the detonator in the plastic. He lowered the bonnet and walked away from the car.
Avedissian's mind reeled with the realisation that it had not been the IRA who had blown up Jarvis at all. It must have been Bryant's doing! It had been Bryant clearing up after a particularly dirty operation. No witnesses were to be left alive. He, Kathleen and the boy had been meant to die in whatever car they had chosen to use.
Avedissian heard the doors to the hotel open and, from the shadows, saw some men spill out onto the street.
'I could do with some fun,' said one of them loudly. These conventions bore me stiff.'
'Let's see what Kansas City has to offer,' said another. Both men had English accents.
'You're talking tomorrow, Miller,' said the first man. 'Better not get too well oiled. Still, if you're giving your usual gall stones talk it won't matter too much.'
'Bloody cheek!'
So that's who they were, thought Avedissian, doctors here for the convention. Laughter broke out among them as one of the Americans in the party suggested what they might do for their night out.
'She picks it up with what?' exclaimed one of the party.
'As a gynaecologist I suppose I should display a professional interest!' said another.
‘I'm a married man!' protested one of the Englishmen, provoking another round of laughter.
Avedissian thought of a risky idea, but he was desperate and if the hotel was full of out-of-town doctors it might work. He straightened his tie, brushed himself down briefly with his hands and walked in through the door of the Rainbow Inn, to find the lobby as crowded as he had hoped. He gave himself a few moments to acquaint himself with the geography of the place then approached the desk.
'How may I help you, sir?' said a middle-aged woman, with spectacles hanging round her neck from a heavy gold chain. Her smile looked as if it had been applied with her make-up.
'I'd like my room key,' said Avedissian sheepishly.
‘The number, sir?'
'You're going to think this awfully silly,’ said Avedissian with an embarrassed shrug and some emphasis on the Englishness of his speech, 'I feel so stupid but the fact is… I've forgotten.'
The smile did not waver. 'Your name, sir?'
'Miller. Dr Miller,' replied Avedissian with an attempt at a smile. Please, God, Miller was not one of the delegates that she knew.
A scarlet nail traced a line down the room register and the woman said, 'You are in room 293, sir.' She handed him the key.
'Of course, how stupid of me,' exclaimed Avedissian. 'Thank you so much.'
'You are welcome.'
Avedissian headed for the stairs, half euphoric, half terrified that at any second the woman would call out behind him. His pulse continued to race as he let himself into room 293 and switched on the light. He found what he was looking for almost immediately: Miller's medical bag. It was under the dressing-table beside his suitcase, and a slim plastic document case that bore the logo of the convention. Avedissian opened the bag and examined the contents. 'God bless you, Miller,' he muttered. It contained everything that he needed.
The boy had come round when Avedissian got back to the restaurant. He was cuddling into Kathleen who was soothing him, but Avedissian saw him go rigid as he approached. There was terror in his eyes and Avedissian knew that he was the cause of it. He felt angry and impotent for there seemed to be no quick way to convince the child that he had done what he had done out of concern for his welfare. No child had ever looked at him like that before. It was something that he would remember.
'Where have you been? I thought something had happened to you,' whispered Kathleen anxiously. 'Did you get the car?'
Avedissian told her why he had not got the car and saw her go pale. 'I don't understand,' she said. 'Why?'
'I suppose we were expendable, to use your word.'
Kathleen looked at the case that Avedissian had returned with.
'Medical. I borrowed it,' said Avedissian. He put his hand out gently to touch the boy's head but the child shrank from him and Kathleen had to reassure him again. 'I can't say I blame you, old son,' said Avedissian quietly.
'What do we do?' asked Kathleen with an air of hopelessness.
'We'll have to find somewhere for the night. I'll have to dress the boy's neck properly then we will have to make plans,’ replied Avedissian. 'Let's get started.'