by Andy McNab
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 room 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 m
ore. 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 switched 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.
It was dark outside, but the shopping mall was packed.
There was still a possibility that I was being watched, so I stood off and waited before picking Kelly up. Nothing looked unusual; the only thing I had to be aware of was the security cameras. The quicker I got in and out, the better.
I watched the area for ten minutes, then moved in closer.
Across from the play center was a sporting goods store; I went in and became an instant basketball fan, studying all the shirts that were part of the display near the window. Kids Have Fun was crammed with kids, but I couldn't see Kelly.
I hung around the store a bit, went back to the rack, had another look, and caught sight of her. She was sitting on the floor watching a home-cinema type TV She was there with about a dozen other kids, each with a small carton of juice. It dawned on me that the girl did nothing but eat, drink, and watch TV It was a wonder she didn't look more like Slack Pat.
I went in, presented my identification card, and asked for my daughter. They went through their process of verification, and a few minutes later Kelly appeared with an escort.
I started to put her shoes on.
"Hi, Josie, how's it going?"
She sat there sulking because I'd arrived halfway through a movie. I took that as a good sign; it showed there was a slight trace of normality coming back in. It had been a relief not having her with me for a short while, but at the same time it felt good to have her back. I didn't know quite what to make of that.
We got a taxi but had it drop us off about four blocks short of the hotel and walked in. It was our only secure area.
I opened the door. The TV was still on, telling us how great Toyota cars were. I flicked the light switch, told Kelly to stay where she was, and looked inside.
The beds weren't made and the curtains were closed, so it looked as if the maid had obeyed the sign on the door. She wouldn't have given a damn; it was less for her to clean, and she still got the same money.
More tellingly, the small pleat was still in the blanket. If I'd seen from the doorway that it had been disturbed, I'd have needed to make a very quick decision on whether to just walk away.
We went inside. Using the TV for support, I leaned to the rear of the bureau, looking into the gap between it and the wall. The match was still in place, covering the pinhead-sized pen mark. Even if they'd noticed that they'd dislodged it when checking under the chest of drawers, it was very unlikely that they'd have put it back in exactly the same position. Looking good so far.
"What are you doing, Nick?"
"I'm just checking to see if the plug is in properly. It looked like it was going to fall out."
She didn't say anything, just looked at me as if I'd had a stupidity leak. Still not looking at her, I got on my knees, ready to look at the drawer.
"Do you want some help. Nick?"
"I'd like to hear what's on the TV" She sat down on the bed and went to work on a box of Oreos. This kid was really eating healthy.
There were three drawers in the low chest; I'd slipped the paper clip in the front left side of the middle one. I got the table lamp and shone it up and down, trying to catch the reflection of the paper clip. I did; the drawer hadn't been opened.
I got Kelly sorted out, coat off, shoes in the pockets and hung by the door. I cleaned her bed up a bit, gathering up the food wrappers and brushing away the crumbs.
"Are you hungry?" I said.
She looked at the half-empty box of Oreos.
"I'm sorta stuffed, but I'm sorta still hungry."
"Without a doubt. I'll go and get some food. You can stay here. I'll let you stay up late. But don't tell anybody, it's our little secret!"
She laughed.
"I won't!"
I realized that I was hungry, too. Pat hadn't left me much at Sub Zone "Same routine, OK?" I went through it all over again.
"I'll put up the do not disturb sign, and you don't open the door for anyone. Do you understand?"
"Without a doubt."
I did a double take.
"You making fun of me?"
"Without a doubt."
It wasn't that busy on the street, and the rain had eased. I got more clothes for us both--jackets and coats, jeans and shirts--enough to see us through the next two appearance changes at least.
Once done, I walked over to the burger joint. As I stood in line I thought how weird this all was. One minute I'm at Vauxhall being briefed for a job, the next I'm trying to remember what flavor milk shake to buy for a child. I wondered if she'd approve of the shirts I'd got her.
On the way back I checked my watch. It was 9:20; I'd been longer than I expected. Time to turn on the phone. I waited in a shop doorway out of the drizzle.
It rang right at 9:30. I was excited, but at the same time nervous.
&n
bsp; It might be for Kev. I hit the Receive button.
"Hello?"
"Hi, it's me. I've got something for you."
"Great, wait..." I put my finger in my other ear. I didn't want to mishear this.
"Go ahead."
"It's one-twenty-six Ball Street. It's in the old part of Crystal City by the river--between the Pentagon and National Airport. Got that?"
"Yeah." I let it sink into my head. I'd been to the Pentagon before, and had used the domestic airport a couple of times. I had a rough memory of the area.
"Are you going to phone me tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Same time?"
"Same time. Stay lucky, mate."
"Cheers."
And that was it. I turned off the power and repeated the address to myself to keep it in my head. I wasn't going to write it down. If I got lifted, I needed to be sterile.
On the way back to the hotel, I was feeling quite upbeat.
Up until now I'd been in the wilderness. I didn't exactly know what I was going to do with this new information, but it was a start. I felt more in the driver's seat.
We ate and I watched some television with Kelly, but she looked more interested in talking.
"Hey, Nick, do you watch TV at home?"
"Some."
"What's your favorite show?"
"I don't know. The news, I suppose. We have different programs from you. What's your favorite?"
"Clueless."
"What's that, a detective show?"
"You moron! It's about a girl." She did a very good impression of a Valley girl.
"What does she do?"
"She goes shopping."
By 10:45 she'd fallen asleep. I got out the city guide I'd forgotten to give back at the Latham and looked for Ball Street.
I followed the river south until I saw National Airport. The target really was very close to the Pentagon, on the west bank.
I had a little laugh to myself. If it was a PIRA location, they had a lot of balls; they probably drank at the same bars as the boys from the National Security Council. There was not a lot I could do at the moment. Kelly was lying on her back, imitating a starfish. I covered her with the comforter, moved all the shit off the other bed, and got my head down. A saying from my infantry days, a lifetime ago, roared in my ears: "Whenever there is a lull in battle, sleep.