by Andy McNab
Aaron was sitting with both hands gripping the wheel, and in the dull glow of the instruments I could see him staring rigidly ahead like some sort of robot.
Even with the window down, he didn't seem to register I was there.
I said quietly, "Seen any of those barry-whatever trees yet?"
He jumped forward in his seat as if he'd just seen a ghost.
Is the back unlocked, mate?"
'Yes." He nodded frantically, his voice shaking.
"Good, won't be long."
I walked to the rear, opened the tailgate, then went back to fetch Unibrow. Lifting him in my arms and leaning back to take f| the weight, I carried him across to the vehicle, not knowing || whether Aaron could see what was happening. The suspension || sank a little as I dumped the body on the crap-strewn floor. His ;
| hat followed, and in the dim glow from the tail-lights I covered " him with his own poncho, then lowered the tailgate before gently ;
clicking it shut. The back window was a small oval, covered in grime. Nobody would be able to see through.
;' I went round to the passenger door and jumped in. Water | oozed from my jeans and soaked into the blanket covering the ' seat. Aaron was still in the same position.
"Let's go then, mate.
Not too fast, just drive normally."
He pushed the selector into Drive and we moved off. A cool draught of air from the open window hit my lumpy face, and as ;
we splashed through pot-holes I leaned down and placed the gollock under my feet.
;
Aaron at last found the courage to speak.
"What's in the back?" L There was no point beating about the bush.
"A body."
"God forbid." His hands ran through his hair as he stared v through the windscreen, before attacking his beard once more. !
"God forbid ... What happened?" i I didn't answer, but listened to the rasping of stubble as his left ( hand wiped imaginary demons from his face.
What are we going to do, Nick?"
"I'll explain later it's OK, it isn't a drama." I tried to keep my voice slow and calm.
"All we need to worry about is getting away from the area, and then I'll sort the problem out, OK?"
Switching on the cab light, I fumbled for Unibrow's wallet in my jeans and pulled it apart. He had a few dollars, and a picture ID that called him Diego Paredes and said he had been born in November '76 two months after I'd joined the Army. There was a cropped photograph of him and what looked like his parents and maybe some brothers and sisters, all dressed up, sitting at a table, glasses raised at the camera.
Aaron had obviously seen it.
"Someone's son," he said.
Weren't they all? I put everything back in the leather compartments.
His head was obviously full of a million and one things he wanted to say.
"Can't we take him to hospital? We can't just keep him in the back, for God's sake."
I tried to sound relaxed.
"Basically, we have to but only for now." I looked across at him. He didn't return my glance, just stared at the headlights hitting the road. He was in a world of his own, and a frightening one it was.
I kept my gaze on the side of his face, but he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact.
"He belongs to Charlie. If they find his body, it could put all of us in danger all of us. Why take that risk?" I let that sink in for a bit. He knew what I was talking about. When a threat's extended to a man's wife and children, it invariably focuses his way of thinking.
I needed to inst il confidence in this character, not anxiety.
"I know what I'm doing and he's just got to come with us for now. Once we're out of the area we'll make sure we dump him so he's never found."
Or at least, as far as I was concerned, not before Saturday morning.
There was a long, awkward silence as we drove along the jungle-lined tarmac and eventually hit the ghost town of Clayton. The headlights picked out the shadows of empty houses, barracks, and deserted streets and children's play areas. It looked even more deserted at night, as if the last American soldier had turned off the lights before he went home for good.
We turned a corner and I could see the high-mounted floodlights of the locks a few kilometres in the distance, shimmering like a big island of white light. The superstructure of a heavily laden container ship was facing to the right, half hidden as it waited in the lock for the water to surge in and raise its massive bulk.
SIXTEEN
I was just too fucked to worry about anything, but Aaron was in deep flap mode.
His left hand couldn't stop touching or rubbing his face. His eyes kept checking through the rear window, trying to see the body in the back, even though it was in pitch darkness.
We were driving alongside a very wide, deep, U-shaped concrete storm trench. I got Aaron to stop and turn off his lights, and he faced me for the first time, probably hoping that we were going to do something about Unibrow.
I nodded towards the lights.
"I've got to clean myself up before we hit all that." I wanted to look at least a bit normal, in case we were seen or stopped as we went through the city. Being wet wasn't unusual here, it rained a lot. I could have told him it was time for my daily prayers and he would probably have replied the same way.
"Oh, OK."
Once I forced my aching body out of the Mazda I could see what was going on under the floodlights. The stumpy electric lo cos were moving up and down the tracks beside the ship, looking like little toys from this distance and too far away to be heard properly. Only a muffled version of the radio traffic from the speakers reached us. The glow from the powerful arc-lights got to us, though, giving just enough light to see what was going on about us, and cast a very weak shadow on the Mazda as I went to the rear and lifted the tailgate to check Unibrow. He had been sliding about and he was pushed hard against the side body work his nose and lips compressed, his arms thrown behind him as if they couldn't catch up. The stench of blood and guts was so strong I had to move my head away. It smelt like a freezer after a power-cut.
Leaving the tailgate up, I scrambled two or three metres down the side of the concrete ditch and into the surging storm water. Bits of tree and vegetation raced past my legs as I pulled the plastic bag from under my jacket and wedged it above the water-line in the gap between two of the concrete sections. Even if I had to run naked from this spot I would still be armed with my documents.
I squatted in the edge of the flow and washed off all the mud, blood and leaf litter that covered me, as if I was having a bath with my clothes on. I didn't bother to check the wound; I'd sort it out later, and in the meantime all I'd do was keep the cut-up sweatshirt wrapped around it and just sit in the water and rest for a second.
I hadn't really noticed it up till now, but the sky was very clear and full of stars, sparkling like the phosphorescence on the jungle floor as I slowly took off my jacket.
I heard Aaron's door creak open and looked up to see him silhouetted against the glow from the canal. By now I was nearly naked, rinsing my jeans in the trench before wringing them out and throwing them up on to the grass, then checking out my back rash and face.
I watched as he stuck his head slowly into the back of the wagon. He recoiled and turned away, vomit already exploding from his mouth. I heard it splatter against the side of the vehicle and tarmac above me, then the sounds of him retching up those last bits that stay in your throat and nose.
I scrambled up on to the grass and hurriedly dressed in my wet clothes. Aaron had his last cough and snort and walked back to the cab, wiping his beard with a handkerchief. Sidestepping the pool of vomit on the tarmac, I covered Unibrow again with the poncho, lowered the tailgate, and climbed in next to Aaron, ignoring what had just happened even though I could smell it on his breath. That's better, wet but clean-ish." I grinned, trying to lighten the tone.
Aaron didn't respond. He looked terrible, even in this low light. His eyes
were glistening with tears and his breathing was sharp and quick as he swallowed hard, maybe to stop himself throwing up again. His large hairy Adam's apple bobbed up and down like a fishing float with a bite. He was having a moment with his thoughts, not even realizing I'd spoken as he rubbed his stubble with shaking hands.
"Back to your place, then how far is it again, mate?"
I patted him on the shoulder and he nodded, turning the ignition with another little cough. He gave a quiet, resigned, "Sure." His voice trembled as he added, "It's about four hours, maybe more. We've had some very heavy rain."
I made the effort and kept my happy voice on, not really knowing what else to do or say "We'd better get a move on, then, hadn't we?"
We got through Fort Clayton and hit the main drag; the Barrier was up, it seemed the old security guy didn't play at night. I'd been wrong, the street lighting wasn't used now that there wasn't much traffic on it any more.
We turned left, leaving the lock and Clayton behind us, travelling in silence. A distant arc of light in the night sky indicated the city, along with flashing red lights from the top of a profusion of communication towers. Aaron just stared straight ahead, swallowing hard.
Before long we approached the floodlit toll booths by the old Albrook air-force base. The noise of the bus terminal blasted all | around us as power hoses washed the buses. A surprisingly large number of workers were waiting for transport, most holding small iceboxes and smoking.
Aaron spent the best part of a minute fumbling in his pockets and the glove compartment at the toll booth. A bored, middle-aged woman just stared into space with her hand out, no doubt dreaming about getting on to one of those buses at the end of her shift.
I let my head bob about as we bounced along the pot-holed road and into the sleeping city via El Chorrillo. A few lights were on here and there in the apartment blocks, and the odd scabby mongrel skulked along a sidewalk, then a black BMW screamed past us at warp speed. Five or six heads with cigarettes glowing in their mouths jutted backwards and forwards to the beat of some loud Latin music as it roared down the street. The BM had violet-coloured headlights, and a powerful fluorescent glow beneath the body work made it look like it was hovering. My eyes followed it into the distance as it hung a right, tyres squealing like something out of NYPD Blue.
I looked over at Aaron. He probably wouldn't even have reacted if we'd been overtaken by the USS Enterprise. He screwed up his face and deep lines cut into his skin. He looked as if he was going to be sick again as we bounced along, turning right at the junction the BM had taken. Once more we drove past the Pepsi stand, barred up for the night, and into the market area.
I thought I needed to say something to fill the silence, but I didn't know what.
I just looked out at the rubbish overflowing from the piles of soaked cardboard boxes that fringed the square, and cats fighting over the scraps.
In the end it was Aaron who broke the deadlock, wiping his nose into his hand before he spoke.
"Nick ... ?"
"What's that, mate?" I was almost too tired to speak.
"Is that what you do kill people? I mean, I know it happens, it's just that-' I pointed down at the gollock in the foot well
"I nearly lost my leg with that thing, and if he'd had his way, it would have been my head. I'm sorry, mate, there was no other way. Once we're the other side of the city, I'll bin him."
He didn't reply, just stared intently through the windscreen, nodding slowly to himself.
We hit the bay once more, and I saw a line of ships' navigation lights flickering out at sea. Then I realized Aaron had started to shake. He'd spotted a police car at the roadside ahead, with two rather bored-looking officers smoking and reading the papers. I gave myself a mental slapping, but not enough for him to see.
I kept my voice calm.
"Don't worry, just drive normally, everything's OK."
It wasn't, of course: they might stop a beaten-up Mazda just to relieve the boredom.
As we passed, the driver glanced up from his newspaper, and turned to say something to his mate. I kept my eyes on the cracked wing mirror, watching the four police cars as I spoke.
"It's OK, mate, there's no movement from behind.
They're still static. Just keep to the limit and smile."
I didn't know if he responded. My eyes were glued to the vehicles in the mirror until they dropped out of sight. I caught sight of my face for the first time.
It was a pleasant surprise. My left eye was half closed but not as swollen as it felt.
I looked over again to see how Aaron was doing and the answer was, not good.
He wasn't enjoying his visit to my planet one little bit. I wondered why and how he'd got involved in this shit. Maybe he'd had no choice. Maybe he was just like me and Diego, in the wrong place at the wrong time.
We splashed our way through mini-Manhattan, where large neon signs flashed down from the top of buildings on to the wet tarmac below. It was a completely different world from El Chorrillo, and a whole galaxy away from what had just been happening in the old Zone.
Aaron gave a small cough. 'You know what you're going to do with that guy yet, Nick?"
"We need to hide him somewhere on the way to your place, once we're out of the city. Any ideas?"
Aaron shook his head slowly from side to side. I couldn't tell whether he was answering or if it had just come loose.
"We can't leave him to rot... God forbid. He's a human being, for God's sake."
There was resignation in his voice.
"Look, I'll bury him for you. There's an old tribal site near the house. No one will find him there. It's the right thing to do he's someone's son, Nick. Maybe even someone's father. The family in the picture, they don't deserve this."
"No one goes there?"
He shook his head.
"Not in a few hundred years."
I wasn't going to argue with that. If he wanted to dig a hole, that was fine by me.
I got back to looking at the neon as he drove, and hoped that someone like him found my body one day.
We came to the airport road toll booth the other side of the financial district, and this time I got out a dollar of my own money. I didn't want us standing still any longer than we had to. Diego would take quite a bit of explaining.
He paid the woman with a sad "Gracias' and a thanks to me for giving him the money. This wasn't a good night out for him at all.
The lights faded behind us as we hit the road out of town. I dug out the wallet again, hit the cab light and looked at Diego's family picture. I thought of Kelly, and the way her life would be if I died without sorting out the mess I'd created. I thought of all the things I'd wanted to say to her, and hadn't ever managed to.
I wondered if his mum had wanted to say those things to her son, to tell him how much she loved him, or to say sorry about the stupid argument they'd had. Maybe that had been the stuff that had flashed through Diego's head in the moments before he died, things he wanted to say to these people raising their glasses at the camera as I killed him.
The wind through my window got stronger as we gathered speed. I wound it up only half-way to keep me awake, and I tried to concentrate on what I'd seen on the CTR and get back to work. Instead, I found myself wanting to curl up like a seven-year-old, desperate to keep the night monster at bay.
"Nick! The police! Nick, what do we do? Wake up! Please!"
Before I'd even fully opened my eyes I was trying to calm him down. It's all right, don't worry, it'll be OK." I managed to focus on the VCP (vehicle checkpoint) ahead, set up in the middle of nowhere: two police vehicles, side on, blocking the road, both facing left. I could see silhouettes moving across the two sets of headlights that cut through the darkness. It felt as though we were heading straight into the Twilight Zone. Aaron's foot had frozen on the accelerator pedal.
"Slow down, for fuck's sake. Calm down."
He came out of his trance and hit the brakes.
We'd got
close enough to the checkpoint for me to see the side windows of the four-wheel-drives reflecting our headlights back at us. Aaron dabbed at the brakes to bring us to a stop. There was a torrent of shouts in Spanish, and the muzzles of half a dozen M-16s came up. I placed my hands on the dash so they were in clear view.
Aaron killed the lights and turned off the engine as three torch-beams headed our way. The shouting had stopped, and all I could hear now was the thump of boots on tarmac.
SEVENTEEN
The three men who approached with M-16s at the ready were dressed in olive green fatigues. They split up, two going left, to Aaron, the other towards me. Aaron started to wind down the remaining half of his window. His breathing was becoming increasingly rapid.
There was an abrupt command in Spanish as the nearest man shouldered his assault rifle. Aaron lifted his arse from the seat and searched around in his back pocket. I saw the red glow of cigarettes beyond the 4x4's headlights as figures moved about in the shadows.
A green baseball cap and bushy black moustache shoved its way through Aaron's window and demanded something from me. I didn't respond. I didn't have a clue what he was asking and just couldn't dig deep enough for the energy to look interested. His M-16 swung round from his back and banged against the door. I saw sergeant's stripes and Tolicia' badges on his sleeve.
"He wants your ID, Nick."
Aaron presented his own. It was snatched away by the sergeant, who stopped shouting and stood back from the window, using his mini-Maglite to inspect the docs.
"Nick? Your ID, please don't vex these people."
I pulled out my plastic bag lethargically from under my jacket and rummaged in it like a schoolboy in his sandwich box, just wanting this to go away.
The other policeman on Aaron's side had been standing behind the sergeant, his assault rifle shouldered. I heard boots behind the wagon, but couldn't see anything in the mirror.
I gripped myself: What the fuck am I doing? Switch on! Switch on!