Remote Control (13 page)

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Authors: Andy McNab

BOOK: Remote Control
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I ran down the four or five metal stairs and hit the ground. As I started to run to the left I shouted at Kelly to hold tight.
The rear of the shopping mall was deserted, just a long stretch of admin areas, with skips, Portakabins, even a container detached from its truck and being used as a static storeroom. There were piles of cardboard boxes and bulging bin liners everywhere, a day’s worth of garbage. Beyond the tarmac’d stretch was a chain link fence surrounding the whole area, and probably about fifteen feet high. Then waste ground, with trees and bushes. On the other side of that, I guessed, would be more car parking and stores.
I felt like a trapped rat. I only had two exits now, the slip roads at either end of the long line of shops.
9
I couldn’t get over the fence with Kelly on my back and if I tried to throw her over she’d break her legs. I started to run to the left, along the rear of the shops, heading towards the slip road. It was no good; they’d had too much time to react; the road would be sealed.
I had to make a decision quickly. I moved towards one of the collection areas of skips, bagged-up garbage and cardboard boxes.
I lifted her from my back and positioned her in amongst it all, throwing boxes over the top of her and moving others to fill in the gaps each side.
She looked at me and started to cry.
I said, ‘Disneyland, Kelly! Disneyland!’
She stared at me, tears rolling down her cheeks, and I threw a couple of boxes over the top.
‘I’ll be back, I promise.’
As I ran, I looked at the container that was right up against the fence. It was a huge thing the height of a truck. Without 50 pounds of young girl on my back, running towards it was like floating on air. At last I was in control. I felt as if I’d lost a ball and chain.
Sprinting like a maniac, using the cover of the bins and skips, I suddenly spotted the boot of a car jutting out from one of the loading bays. It was a mid-1980s model, not one of the cars that had been chasing me. I’d check it for ignition keys and, if I was out of luck, I’d cross the open ground to the container.
A truck was parked up near another loading bay. I started to run past it. A guy was running full pelt the other way and we smashed our heads together. We both went down.
‘Shit!’ I looked at him through blurred eyes. He had a suit on. There was no way I was going to take a chance. I staggered to my feet and charged at him, banging him up against the car. He tried to wrap himself around me.
As I was pushing into him I could feel with the side of my face that his body was solid. This fucker had covert body armour on.
I pinned him up against the car, moved back a pace and pulled my weapon, flicking on the laser sight with my thumb.
Then, dazed, I sank back to my knees. I was seeing stars and my head was spinning, and he was probably in exactly the same state. He looked down at me, confused, but trying to make a decision. I aimed the sight onto his face.
‘Don’t do it,’ I said. ‘Don’t waste your life on this, it’s not worth it. Get your hands up – now!’
As his hands moved I could see he was wearing a wedding ring. ‘Think about your family. It’s not worth dying over this. Number one, you’re wrong, it wasn’t me. Number two, I’ll kill you. Put your hands on your head.’
My brain was clearing. What the fuck was I going to do now? Their cars would be here soon.
‘Stay on your knees,’ I said. ‘Turn right. Move to the back of the vehicle.’
I got up off the ground and stumbled behind him. My eyes were still smarting as if I’d been hit with CS gas.
We were between the loading bay and the car. He knew the score and hopefully was thinking of his wife and kids. I switched my pistol into my left hand, moved into him and quickly jabbed the pistol muzzle into his armpit, twisting it into the material of his jacket. I felt his body tense and heard a little grunt.
‘I’ll explain the facts of life for you,’ I said. ‘This weapon is screwed into your clothes. I’ve got my finger on the trigger and the safety catch is off. If you fuck about, you’ll kill yourself. Understand?’
He didn’t react.
I said, ‘Come on, this isn’t difficult. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Place your hands on your head.’
With my right hand I took his weapon. Mine had only one magazine. He was carrying a Sig .45 in a pancake holster over his right kidney, and three magazines on his belt. The Sig is an approved weapon of the FBI.
He was in his mid-thirties and straight off the set of
Baywatch
: blond, tanned, fit, good-looking, square jaw. I could smell baby lotion. This boy wanted to keep his skin soft. Or maybe he had a baby. Who cared? If he moved, he’d be dead.
There was a white wire behind his ear, linked to an earpiece.
‘Who are you?’ I said. Not that it made any difference whether he was FBI or plain-clothes police.
No reply.
‘Listen, whatever you think, I did not kill that family. I did not kill them. Do you understand?’
Nothing. I knew I wouldn’t get
Baywatch
man to talk. In any event, there wasn’t any time to waste trying.
I took the radio, and cash from his wallet. Then, with the pistol still in his armpit, I whispered loudly over my shoulder, ‘Stay where you are, Kelly! Don’t worry, I’m coming!’ I gripped him harder. ‘Kelly, I said we’re going to go in a minute!’ If they thought Kelly was still with me when I legged it, maybe they’d move on and search a fresh area.
I turned back to him and said, ‘I’m going to untwist this now. Don’t fuck me about; it’s not worth it.’ I gradually released my pistol, making sure I could fire at any stage. I was behind him, with the weapon now pointing at his head. He knew that.
I said, ‘You know what I’ve got to do next, don’t you?’
There was a slight nod of acceptance.
I picked up a lump of angle-iron from a pile of discarded shelving and gave him the good news where his neck met his shoulder. That took him down good-style. For good measure I gave him a few kicks to the head and bollocks. At the end of the day, he wasn’t going to be more pissed off with me because of this kicking; he probably already wanted to kill me. But I had to stop him raising the alarm. A professional like this boy would be expecting it anyway; if the roles were reversed it would be him doing the honours. It would certainly fuck him up for about ten minutes, and that was all I needed.
I came out from behind the car and had a quick look around. Nobody in sight. I ran towards the container; there was a large bin beside it that I could use as a springboard. I jumped, threw myself upwards and got my arms onto the roof. I scrambled up. From there it was just a 15-foot drop to freedom.
A sign pointed the way to Maylords Boardwalk. I turned left and ran along the grass bank, past the bins and into another car parking area. I went straight towards the boardwalk because it promised cover. I was looking for a toilet; and, with luck, there would also be an exit to the other side of the mall.
The boardwalk seemed to be a mini mall with mainly shoe and greetings-card shops. I found the block of conveniences by the coffee shop about a third of the way down the arcade. Looking further down, I could see there was another exit to the boardwalk. I went into the toilets.
Two guys had had a piss and were now washing their hands. I went straight into one of the cubicles and sat there while I waited to calm down.
I put the earpiece in my ear and switched on the radio. I didn’t get much at all, the sound was all broken up, but that meant nothing. I was probably in a dead spot.
I used toilet paper to wipe the blood and mud off my shoes and trousers, and cleaned myself up as much as possible. When I was sure the other two had gone, I went out to the basins and washed my hands and face. I still wasn’t getting anything but mush on the earpiece.
I headed for the coffee shop, bought a cappuccino and sat down about three tables back. From there I could watch both exits to the boardwalk. I didn’t look out of place with the wire in my ear because so many store detectives and security guards wore them.
They sparked up on the net. They were talking freely, as if the radio was secure, not using codes. I checked and there was a jack on the radio for the key gun – the device that sends the chosen encryption codes to the radio. Once this has been done to two or more sets they can talk together securely. Everybody else would just hear mush.
I listened to some of them checking round the back, where the boy had been dropped, and others in places that I couldn’t identify. What I couldn’t hear was a base station, a central control. I started to wonder about that. Then I thought, Why was it that these guys and not uniformed police had turned up at the hotel? I was supposed to be a kidnapping murderer; in situations like these I’d expect to see heavily armed SWAT teams leaping from Chevrolet vans. I realized it was this that had made me run back for Kelly without even knowing it. I should have checked the boy I’d dropped for any ID. Never mind, it was too late now.
How did they find me so quickly at the Best Western? Had my call to London been traced to our room? Impossible: too quick. Was it my credit card when I checked in? Unlikelier still. Only the Firm would have known the details of my cover documents and they wouldn’t have turned me in because they’d be too worried about the Americans finding out about their deniable ops. So it must have been the receptionist. She must have watched the news and recognized Kelly’s photograph. But, even then, it didn’t add up somehow. I started to feel very uneasy.
These boys weren’t a Mickey Mouse group. When I bumped into
Baywatch
man, he’d been wearing a double-breasted jacket and it was open. But it was only now, thinking about it, that I realized that, in fact, it hadn’t been open at first. There had been a velcro fastening.
I heard more radio traffic. They’d found him.
Baywatch
man’s name was Luther; but, whoever the boss was on the ground, he didn’t really care too much about Luther’s condition. He just wanted to know if he was able to talk.
‘Yeah, he’s OK.’
‘Is he alone?’
‘Yeah, he’s alone.’
‘Did he see the target?’
‘No, he says he didn’t see the target but they’re still together.’
‘Does he know what direction they went?’
There was a pause.
‘No.’
I imagined Luther sitting on the ground with his head against the car, getting patched up and feeling pretty pissed off with me. In the background I could hear him mumbling information. He sounded almost drunk.
The sender said, ‘No idea of the direction. And one more thing – he’s armed. He had a side arm with him and he’s also taken Luther’s . . . Wait . . .’
I heard a click, then whoever was with Luther came back on the net and his voice was very agitated. ‘We’ve got a problem – he’s got the radio! He’s got the radio!’
The boss came back on. ‘Fuck! Everybody, all stations, cut comms! Close down now! Out.’
The earpiece went dead. They were going to turn off the radios and refill with a new code. Luther’s radio was obsolete. What I wouldn’t have given now for a key gun.
10
Luther said he hadn’t seen the target, so it was Kelly they were after, not me. My face burned with anger. These were the people who’d killed Kev, they must be. This chase was nothing to do with law enforcement; this was about people who wanted to finish the job. Maybe they thought Kelly had seen them.
By now I had finished my coffee and the waitress had whisked the cup away. I was starting to be a pain in the arse here; other people were waiting for my table. I went back into the toilets. The TV remote control was still in my pocket. That went into the waste bin, along with the useless radio.
What about Kelly? What did I have to gain by going back? What if they’d found her, disposed of her and were waiting for me to pick her up? That was what I would have done. I could think of lots of reasons why I shouldn’t go back.
Bollocks
.
I walked back towards the mall exit. Looking half left in the dead ground, I could just about see the roof of CompUSA. The car park was still full and it was raining harder now. I turned up the collar of Kev’s jacket and looked towards the main drag. I could see a Wendy’s like a desert island in the middle of the car park. It was coffee time again. I checked the route ahead for any sign of my new friends and again used tall vehicles as cover.
I took my burger and coffee over to a window seat. I couldn’t see the rear of the buildings but I could see the nearer of the two slip roads, the one I’d been running towards when I met Luther. Better than nothing. The Wendy’s had a play station, which was great cover; kids screamed around in a tub of multi-coloured tennis balls while their parents sat it out, just like me.
I sat and stared out of the window at the rain. I remembered the times I’d been bad as a child and got a slapping from my stepfather and been put in the shed for the night; I’d been terrified of the rain beating down on the clear plastic wriggly roof; I’d sat there curled up, thinking that if the rain could get me, then so could the bogeyman. As a soldier and a K I had been shot at, beaten up, imprisoned; I’d always been scared, but nothing like those times as a child. I thought of Kelly, abandoned in her makeshift hidey-hole, rain beating down on the cardboard. Then I cut it from my mind. She’d get over it. I shouldn’t let it concern me; I’d done worse things.

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