Nick Stone 1 - Remote Control.

by Andy McNab

  "Let's go in and have a look anyway." I didn't want to put her in there yet because I didn't even know if we were going to get the phone call or not, but I'd still have to do the recon.

  I went up to the desk.

  "Do we need to reserve to come in?"

  Apparently not; we just had to turn up and fill out a form. I figured that if I did get a phone call at four, I'd have only half an hour at the most to hide her. I had to assume the worst-case scenario, which was that they knew Kev's mobile number and were waiting to intercept it and listen to me giving Pat directions. I wanted Kelly away from that area and safe. Also, I couldn't be sure about Pat. He might call the police when he got the card. Or he could be part of a trap. I had to be careful, but at the same time I was desperate to see him.

  I could see her looking around. It didn't look that bad. We walked out.

  "You can come with me now, but I have to go on my own later, OK?"

  She looked pissed.

  "Whyyy?"

  "Because I have to do stuff, OK? You can help me now, though."

  At last I got a smile.

  "Oh, OK-. You won't be long, will you?"

  "I'll be back before you know it."

  Kelly and I started walking around, doing recon without her realizing it.

  "What are we looking for. Nick?"

  "A store with cameras and telephones."

  We covered the whole mall, eventually finding a store on the first floor. I bought a battery charger for the mobile phone.

  Kelly decided not to buy another present for Melissa after all;

  she'd just pick up the friendship bracelets from home. I didn't comment.

  At five of four I took the phone from my pocket and turned the power on. The battery and signal strength were fine. I was ready.

  At ten after four it started ringing. I pressed Receive.

  "Hello?"

  "It's me."

  "Where are you?"

  "In a phone booth."

  "At five o'clock, I want you to come to the Landmark Mall in Alexandria. I want you to enter via JCPenney, go to the center hub, take the escalator to the third floor, and go straight toward Sears. OK so far?"

  There was a pause as it was sinking in.

  "OK."

  "On the left-hand side there's a restaurant called the Roadhouse.

  Go into the Roadhouse and get two coffees. I'll see you there."

  "Seeya."

  I turned the power off.

  Kelly said, "Who was that?"

  "Remember I talked about Pat? I'm going to see him later--that's good, isn't it? Anyway, are you ready for Kids Have Fun?"

  She was going whether she liked it or not. If Pat were setting me up, this place would soon be swarming with cops.

  I filled out the form with the names we were using at the hotel. Kelly was studying the obstacle course with padding and plastic balls to break your fall. There were video areas where a huge variety of films were being shown, a juice dispenser, rest rooms. It looked very well organized. The place was packed. I could see hosts who were playing games with the kids and doing magic tricks. Seeing as she'd been doing nothing but watching children's TV for God knows how many hours, Kelly should be into all that. The downside was the danger of her talking, but I had no choice. I paid my money, plus a twenty-dollar deposit for the magic key to reclaim my child.

  I asked her, "Do you want me to stay for a while?"

  She was dismissive.

  "You can't stay. This is just for kids."

  She pointed at a warning sign that said: be careful, parents.

  DON'T GO NEAR THE PLAYTHINGS BECAUSE YOU MIGHT TRIP

  OVER THEM AND HURT YOURSELF.

  I squatted, looking into her eyes.

  "Remember, your name's Josie today, not Kelly. It's a big secret,

  OK?"

  "Yeah, OK." She was too busy looking into the play area.

  "I'll be back soon. You know I'll always be back, don't you?"

  "Yeah, whatever." She was dragging herself away. Her face was toward me but her eyes were looking the other way. A good sign, I thought, as I headed off.

  I took the escalator to the third floor. I got myself tucked in the corner table of a cafe and ordered an espresso and a Danish.

  I knew that if Pat was late, he wouldn't move into the rendezvous.

  The SOP--standard operating procedure--was that he'd wait an hour. If that didn't happen, it would be the same routine tomorrow. That's the great thing about working with people you know.

  I looked at my watch. It was two minutes to five. Looking down the escalators, I could see the JCPenney spur joining the hub. On my floor I could also see the entrance to Sears and the Roadhouse.

  At about two minutes past I saw Pat below me, walking in from the direction of JCPenney. He was sauntering along, casual and unhurried, wearing a brown leather bomber jacket, jeans, and running shoes. From

  this distance he looked unchanged, just a bit thinner on top. I looked forward to laying into him for that.

  He'd been at JCPenney right at five; I also knew he would have been putting in his own anti surveillance drills enroute, driving into the parking lot early to check it out, even sitting in his car to time it right. Pat might have his head in the clouds, but when he had to perform, he was shit-hot. At the moment my only worry was not about what was in his head but what might be up his nose.

  He walked onto the escalator; I looked away. I wasn't interested in him now; I was watching everywhere else, checking to see if he was being followed. By covering his back I was protecting my own. I had the easy part, being the third party, aware. The biggest problem would be for the surveillance operators who were following him, trying not to get spotted by me.

  In an urban environment it's always best to meet people where there's a lot of pedestrian traffic. It looks normal, people meeting people. The downside is that if there is any surveillance on you, they can blend in a lot easier, too. However, it is chaos for them because you can walk in and out of stores, stop at a counter, move on, then turn around and go back to another counter. So if you're going to RV with somebody to talk, go shopping.

  Pat came up the last escalator, standing ahead of a group of teenage girls. They got off and turned left into the BaskinRobbins.

  Pat went right. There were only four escalators, two up, two down. I couldn't see anyone who looked like an operator.

  I watched him go into the Roadhouse. I gave it another five minutes, checked again, made sure the girl saw me throw my three dollars on the table, and left. Once on the Sears spur I got on the right-hand side of the walkway, which gave me a better view of the Roadhouse on the left, and that in turn gave me more time to tune in and look about to see if there were any men in Victoria's Secret looking out of place as they flicked through the ladies' lingerie.

  I still couldn't be sure about Pat. But I didn't get nervous about that sort of thing; it was a drill--I'd done it so many times. looked at it technically, in terms of "what ifs?" What if they lift me from the direction of Sears? What if they come out from the stores on each side of me?

  "What ifs" stop you freezing like a rabbit in the middle of the road when the lights hit you. They get you out of that initial danger. In this particular case, I'd draw my weapon, move out of the danger area through Sears or the escalators, and make a run for it.

  I entered the Roadhouse and saw Pat closer up. Age was getting to him. He was only forty, but he looked eligible for some kind of pension.

  He was sitting at a twin table on the far left-hand side, with two cappuccinos in front of him. There were about a dozen other people talking, eating, and yelling at their kids. I went over, pulled out the five-dollar bill that I had ready in my pocket, put it on the table, and said, with a big flashy smile, "Follow me, mate."

  If he were intending to turn me in, I was just about to find out.

  I was sponsoring the RV so he didn't say anything, he just came with me. We went over to the far wall to where the rest r
oom sign was; as we went through the door we came into a long corridor, with the rest rooms at the end on the left-hand side. I'd reconned this already with Kelly. To the right was an other door, which led into Sears. These were shared rest rooms, and that was why I'd chosen them. I opened the door, let Pat through, and followed him into the baby wear department. We took the escalators down, putting in angles and distance. It might not work all the time, but it was the best I could do.

  From the perfume counter on the first floor it was straight into the parking lot. Then we started to walk along the side walk toward a string of smaller stores and snack bars.

  Not a word had been said. No need; Pat knew what was happening.

  We walked into a Sub Zone a very clinical, spotlessly clean franchise selling subs with the world's largest supply of hot fillings. I told Pat to order me a drink and a cheese and meat special. The place was full. That was good; it made life more complicated for anybody looking.

  I said, "Sit over there at that table, mate, facing the rest rooms, and I'll be back in a minute."

  He stood in line to order.

  I went through the door to the rest rooms and on to the far end, where there was a fire escape. I wanted to be sure it hadn't been obstructed by a trash can or anything since I last checked. The fire-escape door was alarmed, so I wasn't going to test it to make sure it would open. I'd done my recon, so I knew what was on the other side and where to run.

  Pat was already sitting down with two coffees and an order ticket. I was getting caffeine overload. I was also starting to feel like shit; the heat of the shopping mall and now this place, and the energy expended in this last two days, were taking their toll. But I had to keep on top of that, because this was an operation.

  I sat down opposite him in the booth, looking beyond him at the glass storefront. I could see everybody coming in and out, and had a pillar and Pat as cover. I wanted to dominate the area because I needed to see what was going on.

  I looked at Pat and decided not to josh him about his hair.

  He looked wrecked and wasted. His eyes were no longer clear and sharp but red and clouded. He'd put on weight, and there was an overhang pulling at his T-shirt and flopping over his belt. His face looked puffy; I could only just make out his Adam's apple.

  I said, "The reason why we're here is that I've come over on vacation, to see you, and we're shopping."

  "Fine."

  I still had to test him, in case he was wearing a wire.

  "If there's a drama, I'm going to go through there." I pointed toward the rest rooms. I was waiting for him to say, "Oh, what, you're going to go to the bathroom?" for the benefit of anybody who might be listening in. But he didn't.

  He just said, "OK." I was as sure as I could be that I was safe.

  There was no more time to mess around.

  I said, "You OK, mate?"

  "So-so. Put it this way: a bit fucking better than you. How did you find me?"

  "Sherry, at Good Fellas." I looked at him and he smiled.

  "Yeah, good catch. Pat!"

  His smile got bigger.

  "Anyway, what's the score?"

  "I've got every man and his dog after me."

  "So it seems." His red eyes twinkled.

  I started explaining and was still in full flow when the girl brought over the subs. They were huge, big enough to feed a family.

  "What the fuck did you order?" I said.

  "We're going to be here all day!"

  Pat was hungry, fighting with the hot cheese as it sagged between his mouth and the sub. It made me wonder when he'd last eaten.

  I was too busy chatting to eat. I said, "Look, mate, to tell you the truth, all I want to do is get the fuck back to the UK but that's going to be a pain in the ass. I need to know what's going on, I need to know why this is happening. Do you're member Simmonds?"

  "Yeah. He still in?"

  "Yes. I've been in contact with him. I've even said that if the Firm doesn't help me, I'll open up my security blanket."

  Pat's eyes widened.

  "Wow, that's big boys' stuff! You really are in heavy shit. What did Simmonds have to say to that?"

  His shoulders went into a slow roll as he laughed through a mouthful.

  I went on for another fifteen minutes. At the end of it Pat said, "Do you think that PIRA might have dropped Kev?" He had finished his sub and was now picking at mine. He made it clear he wanted a few bites. I pushed it over.

  "Who the fuck knows? I don't know, I really don't know. I can't see it myself. Can you make any sense of it?"

  "The buzz around D.C. was that there was some American involvement in Gibraltar in 'eighty-eight." He was picking the pickles and tomatoes out of my sub.

  "What sort of involvement?"

  "I don't know. It's got something to do with the Irish American vote, all that sort of shit. And PIRA gearing up funds from Noraid by getting into the drug market."

  I wondered how Pat knew. Maybe that was where he got his supply? The thought made me sad.

  My mind ticked over a bit more. Pat just kept on attacking my sub.

  "Maybe that's where the connection with Kev comes in," I said.

  "DEA, drugs what do you think?"

  "Maybe. The Brits have been giving the Americans a hard time for years over Noraid giving money to PIRA, but the Yanks can't fuck around with all those millions of Irish American votes."

  I sat back and studied his face.

  "Go on."

  "I've heard that PIRA buys cocaine and gears it up once they get it out of the US. It's been going the rounds for years there's nothing new in that. But maybe it's a starting point for you. I mean, fucking hell, you're the brainy one, not me."

  It made sense; if you've got some money and you're a terrorist organization, of course you're going to buy drugs, sell them, and make a profit. And there was no way the Americans were going to attack Noraid; it would be political suicide but if Noraid could be shown to be linked with drug trafficking, that was something else. Maybe Kev was working against PIRA and got killed by them.

  I said, "Do you reckon Kev might have come across some shit? Or maybe he was even part of it, and got fucked over?"

  "I haven't got a clue, mate. Stuff like that gives me a headache." He paused.

  "So tell me, what do you need?"

  I shrugged.

  "Cash."

  He stopped eating my sub and got out his wallet. He handed me an ATM card and told me his number.

  "There's about three thousand dollars in there," he said.

  "It's a savings account, so you can draw out as much as you need. What about Kev's girl? What's the score?"

  "She's all right, mate. I've got her."

  If Pat was setting me up, at least I was sending a message that I was aware of that possibility and taking precautions.

  I said, "Thanks very much for this, mate for the ATM card, and just for being here." With friendships like this you didn't have to write a letter every week. I knew that he would help me out, but I didn't want him to think I was taking him for granted.

  I said, "Look, I'm not going to get you in trouble. I won't compromise you, but there is something else I need. Is there any chance of you phoning me sometime tonight? I need to sit down and think about what I've got to do."

  "About nine-thirty?"

  I smiled. Then all of a sudden I had my second brainstorm of the day.

  "You don't know any Sinn Fein or PIRA locations in D.C.?"

  "No, but I can find out. What are you thinking?"

  "I need to see if there's a connection between PIRA and the people who are trying to zap me and who maybe dropped Kev. If I can check who comes in and out of a location, well, it's a start. If it came to anything, maybe I'd go in and have a look around."

  Pat demolished the last of my sub.

  "Be careful, mate.

  Don't get fucked over."

  "I won't. Right, I'll stay here I'll give you ten minutes and then I'll leave. The mobile will be switc
hed on from nine twenty-five."

  "No drama; we'll talk. Be lucky."

  As he got up, he picked at the fragments of cheese and meat at the bottom of the basket.

  I went back into the mall via Sears, found an ATM, and drew out three hundred dollars.