Crisis Four (52 page)
Authors: Andy McNab
Sarah carried on looking excited, but I knew that she’d be flapping inside.
Josh continued. ‘I could organize tickets for you both without much trouble. You won’t see the bowling alley or the pool, just the main building reception rooms, but hey’ – he looked straight at Sarah – ‘the important thing is you get to see the State Dining Room, and that’s the only part left that Jackie O furnished. It’s the room in the picture you showed me.’
Sarah reached across and touched his hand. I could see she wished she’d never mentioned the woman. ‘Thank you, that would be great. I just hope that we’ll be able to do it with you; it would be much more fun.’
Josh just about melted. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean, it would be kinda cool to show you around. I promise I’ll call in the morning; that’s all I can do, man.’
‘It’s going to happen, believe me,’ I said to Sarah. ‘I told him, if it didn’t, I’d tell the White House about the rubber duck.’
‘The what?’
Josh looked at me with an embarrassed smile.
I said, ‘There’s this yellow rubber duck that gets passed around all the different sections in the Secret Service – and the Unit.’
She cut in. ‘The Unit?’
She was well aware of what I was referring to, but she knew Josh would expect her not to be. ‘Delta Force,’ I explained. ‘Sort of the American SAS. Anyway, the big thing is to have a picture taken with the duck in the most unusual places. Josh’s task was to get photos taken in the White House, so he had one of it floating in the president’s toilet in the private apartments, and he even managed one on the desk in the Oval Office…’
Josh yawned politely and started rising to his feet. ‘On that happy note…’
As we said our goodnights, Sarah picked up the Kennedy book and put it under her arm, and we all trundled up the stairs. At the top landing, Josh went left to check on his kids; through their open doors I could see night lights glowing below a poster of a basketball hero, and a big picture of their mother. Duvets and toys were strewn everywhere.
Our bedroom was further along to the right. It was exactly what might be expected of a spare room in one of these houses: very clean and new looking, with a polished-wax pine bed with shiny nuts and bolts showing either side. I got the feeling the design choices had been Geri’s, not Josh’s, because it was all matching flowery curtains, pillow cases and duvet covers; if anything good was to come of Geri leaving, it was that Josh could sort out the decor in the next house. The bed was made up, with one corner of the duvet pulled back invitingly. Maria had done such a professional job that I half expected to see a note with tomorrow’s temperature and a chocolate on the pillow.
I closed the door behind us, and right away Sarah was into her bag. She picked up her weapon and mag, and went into the
en suite
, leaving the door ajar. I watched as she loaded it by pulling back the topslide, placing a round in the chamber and letting the action go forward under control to cut out any noise, then just pushing the last two millimetres into place against the round. She then pushed the magazine in quietly until there was a click.
en suite
, leaving the door ajar. I watched as she loaded it by pulling back the topslide, placing a round in the chamber and letting the action go forward under control to cut out any noise, then just pushing the last two millimetres into place against the round. She then pushed the magazine in quietly until there was a click.
I laughed. ‘You expecting a rough night?’
She turned and smiled, then checked safety. I got up and joined her in the bathroom. Sarah turned on the tap in the basin and started to clean her teeth. The danger with whispering is that you can make an even louder noise by doing it incorrectly than you would by talking. I leaned into her ear and said, ‘If he does get us in, then no matter what, we don’t harm him. OK? We don’t harm him or anyone else; have you got that?’
She nodded as she spat out toothpaste.
I said, ‘We’re all on the same side here. If we get caught, or even challenged, we don’t fight back. Nobody gets killed, and we don’t take weapons, OK? They stay in the bags.’ The security would be so tight we’d never be able to get them in. ‘Anyway, we don’t need them.’
She rinsed her teeth, turned and nodded her agreement, offering me the toothbrush.
‘Thanks.’ Our eyes met, then she smiled and went into the bedroom.
I watched her undress as I brushed my teeth. She laid her clothes neatly over the chair, and when she was completely naked she started taking off the price tags from the new lace underwear she’d bought to wear the next day. As ever, she wasn’t shy about her body, but I sensed this was different from her performance in the motel. That was business, whilst this was… well, whatever it was, it felt good. I watched her in the glow of the bedside light.
Digging into her bag again, she took out a new shirt, unwrapped it and put it on the chair. Then she looked up at me and smiled. I finished my teeth as she came back in and we swapped rooms again.
As the bathroom door closed, I sat on the bed and started to pull my clothes off, thinking about the prospects for tomorrow. I could hear Josh, opening and closing doors somewhere along the corridor, checking on the kids again, I guessed, or locking up, or whatever he did at this time of night. The toilet flushed, and after a while Sarah appeared.
She pulled back the duvet and climbed in beside me. I smelled toothpaste on her breath and soap on her skin. Her leg touched mine – I wasn’t sure how accidentally. Her skin felt cool and smooth.
We both lay there, thinking our own thoughts. I wondered whether her thoughts were anything like mine. After a while she turned to me. ‘What are you going to do after this, Nick? After you’ve left the service, I mean?’
It was something I had always tried not to give any thought to. I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I never think that far ahead, never have. Tomorrow night – that’s far enough. And I hope I’ll be celebrating that we’re all still alive.’
‘I don’t think I’ll stay in,’ she said. ‘I’ll probably do what everybody else does – get married, have children, all that sort of stuff. I sometimes wish I had a child.’ She lifted herself up on one elbow and looked into my eyes. ‘Does that sound crazy?’
I shook my head. ‘Not since I’ve had Kelly.’
‘You’re very lucky.’ She moved her face closer, and I could feel her breath on my neck. ‘Maybe I’ll write my memoirs.’ She brushed my face with her hand. ‘But where could I possibly start the story?’ She paused, her eyes shining. ‘And what would I say about you?’
‘Hmm.’ I smiled. ‘Not easy.’ Fuck, if she carried on like this I’d go to pieces and tell her I was in love with her or some shit like that. I couldn’t handle it at all.
Her lips brushed against my forehead too lightly for it to be a kiss, then moved down to my cheek. I turned my head and my mouth met hers. I closed my eyes and could feel her body half on top of mine, her hair brushing my face.
Her kiss was long, gentle and caring, then suddenly more urgent. She pressed her body hard against mine.
25
I was woken by the screams of 200 kids – or at least that was what it sounded like. I kept my eyes closed and listened to the din. Maria had arrived and was trying to shush and organize them, and in doing so she was stirring things up even more.
A herd of elephants went downstairs, followed by Mexican commands to ‘put on clean sock’ as she went past our door. I opened my eyes and looked at Baby-G. It was six fifty-eight.
I yawned, turned and saw Sarah. She was sitting up, flicking through the Jackie O book. I muttered, ‘What was that you were saying about children last night?’
Eyes firmly fixed on the page, she nodded, not listening. I hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those terrible mornings-after when both of us desperately wished we were somewhere else and neither of us could bring ourselves to be the first to go for eye contact. I hoped not, because I knew it would only be that way for me if it was for her.
‘Time spent on reconnaissance is seldom wasted, Nick,’ she said, glancing at me and smiling. Things were looking up.
I propped myself up and checked the scabs on my arm. They were sealing up OK; the bruising was now very dark and swollen. I moved closer and looked at the book. It was mostly about the decor of each of the main rooms that Jackie O had changed in the 1960s. The useful stuff was at the back in an appendix: floor plans of both wings, west and east, plus the executive mansion in between. There was no way of telling if the layout was still the same, but that was all we had, apart from my memory of Josh’s guided tour.
I looked up to read her eyes, and they told me she was already walking into the White House press room. Her work cassette was in.
I threw off the duvet and headed for the shower. I came back ten minutes later, drying my hair with a towel, to find her already dressed, apart from her jacket and shoes. ‘Let’s go down and find out what’s happening, I’ll shower later.’ She waited while I threw on my clothes and followed her.
Armageddon was well underway in the dining room. Spoons crashed into cereal bowls, chairs scraped on the wooden floor, the toaster popped, Maria tutted and fussed. In amongst all this the kids were practising their songs. The problem was they were all in different time. It sounded like cats on heat. I tried to remind myself that this was a celebration of peace, rather than a declaration of war.
Josh had his back to me, doing some magic act with lunch boxes. He looked like a TV chef cooking ten things at once, wrapping sandwiches in clingfilm, washing apples, throwing in handfuls of cheese snacks. He was wearing navy-blue suit trousers and a freshly ironed white shirt; I could see his white T-shirt underneath, and the dark skin of his arms. I couldn’t wait to see his tie. The thing that worried me was that he had a light-brown pancake holster just behind his right hip, and a double mag carrier on his left. I just hoped he didn’t end up having to use what would be going in there on us two. I checked with Sarah. She’d clocked his gear, too.
Josh didn’t even look round as I came in; he just called out, ‘Morning! Coffee’s in the machine over to the left.’ I could see the percolator bubbling away. ‘Bagels are by the toaster. Can’t stop, got to get these ready before Puff Daddy and his backing crew here are picked up for their gig.’
I went over and split some of the pre-cut bagels, putting a couple in the toaster as Sarah poured some coffee. We put on a good show, as if I knew that she liked nothing better than toasted bagels for breakfast and didn’t even have to ask, and she knew exactly how I liked my coffee. She asked Josh if he wanted some and he looked up from the lunch boxes for a second, nodded and smiled.
She poured. ‘So what are our chances, Josh?’
He had his back to us again, jamming too much food into a Little Mermaid lunch box. ‘I was going to give them a call at the top of the hour,’ he said, ‘just after the shift change.’
He finished loading up the Little Mermaid and glanced at his watch. ‘Tell you what, let’s see if I can get hold of the guy now.’
He walked over to the wall telephone and dialled, hooked the receiver with about a ten-foot lead between his shoulder and ear, then walked back to put the lunch boxes into the kids’ daysacks. He had sold out: his tie was just plain old blue. He saw me looking at it in disgust, annoyed that there was nothing I could take the piss out of. He grinned back at me.
The daysacks were made of clear plastic – the only sort of bag that could be taken into some American schools now, because the kids had to show they only held books and lunch boxes and not guns. I imagined that White House security would have thought them a good idea, too.
I could hear cartoons on the TV next door. That worried me; it meant they’d finished breakfast and were killing time. In this house, there was never any TV while there were meals to be eaten or work to be done. I looked at my watch. It was seven thirty-two.
He got an answer. ‘Yo, it’s Josh.’ There was a gap. ‘Yeah, absolutely fine, I’ll be there today anyway to watch my kids; we can talk then.’ They spun more work shit for a while, and had an in-joke about their president.
The toaster popped up. I picked up the bagels and went to the fridge, digging out some spread. Sarah’s eyes followed me as she crossed to sit at the kitchen table. She looked like a student waiting for her finals results.
I deliberately didn’t look at Josh; if he turned I didn’t want any eye-to-eye. Our unconscious bubbles away inside, and mostly we manage never to let people see in; the only place they can is our eyes. I’d spent most of my life controlling it, but Josh knew the score. He’d been there too. I just concentrated hard on the bagel as I spread, and listened.
He finished waffling and got down to business. ‘Who’s the shift co-ordinator today? Ah, right. Is Davy Boy in?’ He sounded pleased.
I walked across the kitchen and sat next to Sarah. She had her hands round her mug, just sipping slowly, taking fantastic interest in the coffee’s molecular structure. Josh was still gobbing off on the phone with his back to us and zipping up the daysacks. Once he’d done that, he walked over to us and dumped them on the table, still waffling.
‘I’ve got two really good friends here, over from the UK, and I want to bring them in for a visit. What do you say, bud?’ He smiled at whatever was being said at the other end. ‘Yeah, today… yeah, I know, but it’s their only chance, man… yeah, that’s OK.’ He looked at his watch, placed his thumb on the cut-out, looked at us and said, ‘Call back in thirty.’
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