by Ken McClure
The boy, still terrified of Avedissian, would not come to him when he tried to take him from Kathleen. 'Just leave him,’ said Kathleen.
'But he's too heavy,’ said Avedissian.
'I can manage.’
Tension grew as they failed to find a cab until, in desperation, Avedissian said, ‘There's a bus coming. We'll take it.’
The doors of the bus opened with a hydraulic hiss and they climbed on board. The driver was black; all the passengers were black. They regarded the three white interlopers with indifference.
'Kid's out late,’ said the driver as Avedissian fumbled in his pocket for change. He ignored the comment and said, 'We want to go to the main bus depot.’
‘Transfer at point four,’ said the driver.
'Will you tell us?'
'Sure.’
The seats were hard, the lights were dim and there was an almost overpowering smell of diesel fuel. Overhead, advertising placards were interspersed with warnings spelling out the penalties for armed robbery. A notice near the driver declared that he personally carried no money; all fares were deposited automatically in a locked compartment to which he had no access.
The mention of money made Avedissian consider his own financial position. How much cash did he have? The answer did nothing to raise his spirits. But he did have a credit card.
They got off the bus and watched it draw away from the kerb.
'What was all that about the bus station?' asked Kathleen.
'A red herring,’ replied Avedissian. 'Three white faces on an all-black bus. Just too easy to trace.'
They headed off in the opposite direction from the bus station and found the Blue Ranch Motel. It had seen better days, either that or it had always been seedy, but it had a 'Vacancies' sign above the entrance and all three of them were exhausted. The proprietor, attired in a vest that faithfully followed the rolls of flab about his middle, did not move as they entered but simply raised his eyes, giving the impression that their arrival was only going to be a very temporary interruption to his magazine reading. Avedissian could see that the lady on the cover was wearing a football helmet but little else.
'Number twelve, thirty dollars, pay in advance,' said the man, slapping down a key on the desk in front of him.
Avedissian paid and asked, 'Where do we find number twelve?’
The man stabbed a forefinger to his right without looking up from the magazine.
'God, what a place,' sighed Avedissian when they had left the office and were making their way along the row of chalets. Kathleen could not argue. The smell of barbecue sauce, which seemed to pervade Kansas City, gave way to the scent of cheap perfume when they finally found number twelve and stepped inside.
They looked around, expecting the worst, but found it better than they had feared. Kathleen turned down one of the bed covers and looked at the linen. 'Good,' she said. 'I half expected to find it still warm.'
Avedissian drew the curtains and opened the medical case that he had taken from the Inn. He took out what he needed and laid it out in order on a bedside table. 'I have to look at the boy's neck,' he said quietly to Kathleen.
'It's not going to be easy,' she replied. 'But we'll try.' She smiled at the child and spoke to him all the time as she gently teased away the temporary dressing from his neck. At first he was uncertain but confidence started to grow in him. It lasted until it became clear that Avedissian was going to touch him again, then fear returned to his eyes and he drew close to Kathleen. She cuddled him and whispered yet more reassurance.
'It will have to be done,' whispered Avedissian.
Kathleen laid the boy gently back on the bed and took Avedissian's hand. She held it to her cheek in a gesture of trust for the child's benefit. The boy looked puzzled so she repeated the gesture, nodding as she did so.
It took some little time but the child eventually decided to give Avedissian another chance. He did not draw away when Avedissian made to examine his neck but his small body was rigid with uncertainty.
'Is it bad?' asked Kathleen.
'No,' replied Avedissian. The implant was just under the skin but I'll have to put in a couple of stitches to keep the edges together.'
'More pain?'
'A little, but nothing like last time.'
Kathleen held the boy while Avedissian did what he had to and then breathed a sigh of relief. 'It's done,' he said. He rubbed the child's hand and said, 'Well done. You were very brave.' The child stared at him blankly.
Avedissian took a bottle of red liquid from the table and poured some out on a spoon. This elixir will help him sleep,' he said to Kathleen. 'It tastes nice too.'
Kathleen encouraged the boy to accept it and was rewarded by a ghost of a smile. 'It's bed for you,’ she whispered, giving the boy another hug.
When Kathleen had tucked the child safely into bed she returned to Avedissian. Now free of the need to play-act for the child's benefit, her face showed all the signs of the strain that she felt. 'What on earth are we going to do?' she asked.
'Our first priority is to get out of Kansas City,' replied Avedissian. 'We have to get away from NORAID. A couple with British accents and moving around with a child are not going to be too difficult to trace, and they must want us pretty badly.'
'If only they knew that the boy was not the royal child,’ said Kathleen.
'Right now it wouldn't make that much difference,’ said Avedissian. They think that we killed Roker and Shelby as well as the other two.'
Kathleen asked about 'the other two' and Avedissian told her what had happened during the chase. 'What a mess,’ she sighed, nervously wringing her hands. 'It's all gone wrong.'
Avedissian found the comment strange but, at that moment, the boy moved in his sleep and Kathleen went to check on him. Avedissian watched while she settled him again. 'We'll try to make for Chicago,’ he said. 'It has a big airport. Maybe we can slip through after a few days.’
'How do we get there? They'll be watching all the stations.’
'We'll have to get a car.’
'Hire one, you mean?' asked Kathleen.
'I've got a credit card.’
'Aren't we taking the same risk? A man with a British accent hiring a car?'
'We have to do something.’
'First thing in the morning?'
'Second. I have to go to the bank first.’
'The bank?' asked Kathleen in astonishment.
'I have to open an account,’ said Avedissian.
'You're not making sense.’
'When I left you at the hotel for a few minutes, I went back to Jarvis's room and took the tapes from the recording machine.’
'Why?' asked Kathleen.
'Because somewhere on the tapes is the voice of Roker saying "Archimedes". That's what I meant when I said that I was securing the boy's future.’
It took a few moments for Kathleen to see the full implication of what Avedissian had said, but when it did dawn on her she exclaimed, 'Of course, that's brilliant! The password with the correct voice print! You can get the money!'
'I hope so,’ said Avedissian. 'NORAID are not going to let the money lie in that account for ever but I think the deaths of both Roker and Shelby might slow them up with alternative arrangements. That and the fact that they must know by now that the money was not transferred after the exchange. They probably feel that there is no danger of anyone getting to it.’
'Sheer genius,’ said Kathleen quietly but Avedissian got the impression that her thoughts were elsewhere.
'You know what?' she said.
'What?'
'I'm starving!'
Avedissian had to admit that he was hungry too. He could not remember when they had last eaten properly. ‘I’ll nip out and see what I can get,’ he said, putting on his jacket. Before he left he removed the pistol from the pocket and handed it to Kathleen, asking if she knew how to use it. 'Lock the door behind me,’ he said. 'If anyone insists on entering, shoot first, we'll discuss your options later
.’
Avedissian was gone for about fifteen minutes. He returned with a selection of take-away food from a McDonald's restaurant to appreciative sounds from Kathleen. He could not help but notice the change in her mood in the past hour. For some reason she seemed to have been instilled with new hope.
'The coffee's a bit cold,’ she said.
'I should have run faster,’ said Avedissian quietly watching her.
Kathleen stopped eating and looked up. 'Oh, what a stupid thing to say!' she exclaimed. 'My mind was miles away. Forgive me?'
'You're forgiven.'
Kathleen came round to Avedissian's side of the table and sat down on his knee. She traced her finger-tips along his forehead and said softly, 'Whatever happens now, you are the most wonderful man I've ever known. It's the wrong time and the wrong place to say it but that is the plain unvarnished truth.' She kissed him lightly on the lips.
'We've not really had much say about times and places,’ said Avedissian.
'No, but for what it's worth, I'm so glad I met you.'
'And I you.'
Kathleen crawled into bed beside the child in case he should wake up and panic during the night. Avedissian took the other bed and fell into a fitful sleep after savouring the quiet darkness for some minutes. His fear that he might not be able to sleep at all was overcome by sheer exhaustion. He had a great deal to think and worry about but his mind protested at any more anxiety in one day and insisted on rest. His sleep was, however, shallow and he woke at three a. m, puzzled by the sound of scratching.
The sound was not being made by an animal, he decided. It was too regular. Mice noises were intermittent. What was it?
Where was it coming from? Avedissian raised himself on one elbow to listen more intently. The noise changed to a gentle tapping. It was coming from somewhere near the door…
Silently Avedissian swung himself out of bed and found his jacket in the darkness. The gun was not in the pocket. He remembered that he had given it to Kathleen but he didn’t know where she’d put it.
Another change in the noise and, all at once, Avedissian realised what it was. Someone had been etching the glass panel beside the door of the chalet with a glass cutter. The tapping had been to remove the etched area and allow access to the interior!
As the piece of glass was being removed Avedissian flung himself across the room, picking up the only weapon he could find on the way — the forceps he had used earlier when suturing the child's wound. A hand came through the opening beside the door to fumble for the lock, and Avedissian plunged the tips of the forceps into the back of it. He felt them go right through and heard the intruder grunt in pain before cursing him in an accent that he realised was not American.
Avedissian tried to capitalise on his advantage by letting go of the forceps to grip two fingers of the man's hand and pull them apart. His aim was to break one or other or both, knowing that the pain from such an injury might be sufficient to induce unconsciousness. He heard Kathleen at his back and shouted, The gun! For God's sake get the gun!'
As Avedissian struggled to get a better grip on the intruder's fingers the man suddenly smashed the remainder of the glass door panel with his other hand, sending a shower of glass into Avedissian's face and making him release his grip. The door was forced open and it hit Avedissian, who had been temporarily blinded by blood coming from the cuts on his forehead, and sent him reeling backwards across the room.
The door was closed and the lights went on. Avedissian managed to clear the blood from his eyes and opened them to see a thick-set man standing over him holding a gun pointing at his face. The man was sucking the wound in the back of his hand and staring at Avedissian with anger burning in his eyes.
Assuming him to be from NORAID Avedissian said, 'You don't understand! The boy isn't who you think he is! It was a trick!'
'Screw the brat,’ rasped the man. 'Where are the tapes?'
Avedissian was stunned. From where he lay on the floor he stared at the man in blank astonishment. Again, the fact that the man did not have an American accent registered with Avedissian, but this time it meant more. The man did not have an American accent because he was Irish! 'Who the hell are you?' he asked.
‘I’ll not ask you again,' threatened the man. 'Where are the tapes?'
Avedissian's one hope lay in the fact that Kathleen was still in the bedroom and she had access to his gun. He knew that she must be listening and waiting for her chance. It was his job to stall as long as possible. 'What tapes?' he asked.
The man responded with a vicious kick at Avedissian's stomach which made him retch in agony. 'Don't give me that crap,’ the man hissed. 'Kathleen! Get out here!'
Through his pain Avedissian heard the man call Kathleen by name and felt his anguish double. He saw Kathleen appear in the doorway and heard her say angrily to the man, 'I told you I would get them for you. Why did you have to come here?'
'Just get me the tapes!' rasped the man.
'I don't know where they are,’ replied Kathleen. She came towards Avedissian and knelt down beside him, withering under the bitter accusation in his eyes. 'I'm sorry,’ she whispered, 'More sorry than I can ever tell you, but you had better tell him where the tapes are.’
Avedissian looked at her long and hard then said with resignation, 'They're in the bedroom, in the cabinet by the bed.'
'Get them!' said the man to Kathleen and she got up.
As Kathleen left the room the man levelled his pistol at Avedissian and said, 'I win, you lose. I can't say it's been nice.'
Avedissian closed his eyes and waited for the end but it did not come. Instead he heard the full, flat sound of two silenced shots being fired. He opened his eyes to see the man slump to the floor in a motionless heap. Kathleen was standing in the doorway with the gun in her hand. She stared at the corpse.
'Who was he?' asked Avedissian quietly.
'His name was Reagan. He was one of Kell's men.'
Avedissian shook his head in confusion. 'But why?' he asked. 'Why did you do it?'
'I lied to you. My brother is not dead,’ said Kathleen. 'Kell is holding him prisoner. Kell planted me on the British because he suspected that they were up to something. Originally I was just to confirm that a man called Bryant was involved in the child kidnap operation and find out anything else about it I could, but when Bryant himself saw that I could be useful in finding out even more about the IRA and NORAID, Kell instructed me to go along with it. I was to keep Reagan informed about Innes's progress and keep them in touch.'
'But the information you gave to Bryant was real,’ said Avedissian. The INLA in Belfast were all but wiped out.'
That was Kell's doing. He loathed the McGlynns. He saw his chance to set them up and convince Bryant at the same time that I was genuine.'
'How does Kell know Bryant?'
'Kell knows Bryant, Bryant knows Kell. That's the way things are at the top. They've probably never met each other but they know each other well enough. At that level it's like a big game. People's lives don't enter into it. The game is all important.’
'So Kell saw through Bryant's plan from the beginning?'
'More than that. He saw it as the perfect time to set up a scheme of his own.'
To get the money, you mean?'
Kathleen shook her head. 'Not just that,’ she said. 'Kell wanted Bryant to think that he had swallowed the royal child story for some other reason.'
'What reason?'
'I don't know, but the suggestion was that the operation might be even bigger than Bryant's.'
'You said that Kell was holding your brother?' said Avedissian.
Kathleen shrugged. 'Kell will kill him now,' she said. 'He was going to kill both of us until he saw how I could be useful. The bargain was that Kell would let Martin go if this operation was a success and he got the money. I thought the chance had gone until you told me about the tapes and I saw that I could still save Martin. I called Innes and Reagan when you were out getting the food and said
that I would get the tapes if they would tell Kell not to harm my brother.'
'But Reagan decided to speed things up?'
'I foolishly told him where we were staying,' admitted Kathleen. 'And I nearly got you killed…' Tears came and Kathleen put her head against Avedissian's shoulder. 'Oh my darling,’ she murmured.
Avedissian held her close, oblivious to the blood that was still running down his face from the cuts and said softly, 'Sshh, you were the one who pointed out that you lived your life as a victim of circumstance. Let's say that this one was beyond your control.’
Kathleen looked affectionately at Avedissian then realised the mess that his face was in. She held it between the palms of her hands and said, 'I'll fetch a cloth.’ She returned from the bathroom with a flannel soaked in cold water and began dabbing gently at Avedissian's cuts. They are not too bad when the blood has been cleared away,’ she assured him.
'We'll have to get out of here,’ said Avedissian.
'Can't we wait until morning?'
Avedissian shook his head. 'You said that there were two IRA men. We don't know where the other one is.’
'Innes, the Tally Man,’ said Kathleen.
'He could be waiting nearby for Reagan to return, and when he doesn't
'I hadn't considered that,’ said Kathleen. 'I had assumed that Reagan had come on his own.'
'Get the boy ready,’ said Avedissian hauling himself to his feet. He picked up the gun that Kathleen had let fall to the floor and checked the clip. It was nearly empty. He picked up Reagan's gun and opted for that instead.
When they were ready to leave Avedissian switched out the chalet lights and opened the curtains a little to peer out. It seemed quiet enough but Avedissian was not convinced. He changed his mind about them all leaving together and told Kathleen to stay put with the child while he went out alone to take a look around.
Avedissian squeezed out of the smallest possible opening of the door and made for the nearest shadow in a crouching run. It was the area between their chalet and the neighbouring one. He paused for a moment before continuing along the row, looking for signs of life in the grounds of the motel. He found none and all the cars parked near the chalets seemed to be empty.