Crisis Four Part 4

Kelly ran over to Josh's three--two girls, Dakota and Kimberly, aged eleven and nine, and a boy, Tyce, who was eight. Their skin was lighter than Josh's--their mother was white--but they looked just like their dad, except they still had all their hair. Which was a good thing, I thought.

Josh and I turned and looked out over the deck toward the Thames.

Josh waved back at some tourists who were waving from the boat, either at us or at the coffee morning still going strong to our left.

"How is she coping?" he asked.

"Getting better, mate, but the shrink says it'll take time. It's affected her schooling big time, she's way behind. The last lot of grades were s.h.i.t.

She's an intelligent girl, but she's like a big bucket with holes, all the information's going in, but it just drips out again."

"You think about what she's been through, man, for sure it's going to take some time."

We turned to see all four of the kids throwing chicken nuggets down their necks. It was a strange choice for breakfast, but then again, I liked choc ice cream and fries first thing in the morning when I was a kid. The elder daughter wasn't getting on with Tyce today and Josh had to do a dad thing.

"Hey, Kimberly, chill! Let Tyce have his c.o.ke--now!"

Kimberly didn't look too happy but obeyed. Josh turned back toward the river, took off his gold-rimmed gla.s.ses and gave them a wipe.

"She looks happy enough, that's a good sign."

"It's the best she's been for ages. She's slightly nervous around adults, but with her friends she's OK. It means so much for her to see your lot.

Besides, it gives her a rest from me." I couldn't bring myself to say that I found it wonderful to see him as well. I hoped he knew anyway.

We both looked out over the river with not a lot to say. He broke the silence.

"How's the job? Are you on permanent cadre yet?"

I shook my head.

"I don't think it will ever happen. They know I was involved in a lot more of the Washington stuff than I let on." It p.i.s.sed me off, because I needed a regular income these days. I had the money I'd rescued from last year's gang-f.u.c.k, but that wouldn't last forever. I grinned.

"Maybe I could turn to crime. Couldn't be worse than the s.h.i.t I do now."

He frowned, not sure if I was being serious or not, and tilted his head in the direction of the huddle of small sailors, as if to remind me of my responsibilities. He put his specs back on and focused on a black guy in an old, shiny blue tracksuit who had set up shop at the corner of the pub, selling the Big Issue and chatting up the women walking past.

"It's OK for you," I said.

"We don't have a training wing where I can go and put my feet up and still get paid." I thought Josh was going to give me a lecture, so I put my hands up.

"OK, I surrender. I will sort my s.h.i.t out-one day."

In a way, I had sorted myself--a bit. With the money I'd diverted from the Washington job, 300,000 once the dollars were converted, I'd bought myself a house up on the Norfolk coast in the middle of nowhere. The village had a co-op on the corner and that was about it; a traffic jam was when the three fishing boats came into the harbor and their vans arrived at the same time to take the catch away. Otherwise, the busiest it got was when the postman rang his bell as he was going around the corner. I didn't know anyone; they didn't know me. If anything, they all had me down as an international drug dealer or some weirdo. I kept myself to myself, and that suited everybody just fine.

I'd bought a motorbike, too. At last I had the Ducati I'd always promised myself, and I even had a garage to put it in. But what was left--about 150,000--wasn't enough to retire on, so I still had to work--and I knew only one trade. Maybe that was why Josh and I got on; he was much the same as me, running his life like a conjuror, trying to keep all the plates spinning on top of their poles. His plates weren't spinning so well at the moment. Now that Geri had gone, one income wasn't enough, and he'd had to put the house up for sale.

Josh had had a tucker of a year. First his wife had got into yoga and all that mind-body-spirit stuff, then she'd ended up going to Canada to hug trees--or, more precisely, to hug the yoga teacher. Josh and the kids were shattered. Something had to give. He could no longer travel away from home with the vice-presidential crew, so he became one of the training team out in Laurel, Maryland. It was a very grand-sounding outfit-Special Operations Training Section--but a s.h.i.t job for a man who was used to being in the thick of things. Then, two months after his wife left him, his friends Kev, Marsha and their other child, Aida, were hosed down, and he found he was an executor of the will--along with some d.i.c.khead Brit he'd never heard of called Nick Stone.

Between us we looked after Kelly's trust fund, and we'd been having some problems selling the family home. When it came down to it, who was going to buy a house where a whole family had been butchered? The property company was trying to pull a sleazy deal so it could get the land back. The insurance companies had been trying to give Kelly a lump sum instead of making regular payments, because it was cheaper for them. The only people getting any money were the lawyers. There was something about it all that reminded me of my divorce.

I turned to him.

"It is good to see you, mate."

He looked back and smiled.

"Same here, mate." His p.i.s.s-taking accent sounded more Australian than English. Maybe they got Neighbors in his part of Virginia, too.

There was really nothing more to be said. I liked Josh and we had a f.u.c.k of a lot in common, but it wasn't as if we were going to be sharing toothbrushes or anything like that. I'd decided after Euan turned me over to bin any idea of friendship with anyone else ever again, and to restrict myself to acquaintances--but this did feel different.

"Talking of s.h.i.t," I said, "how's the quilt shaping up? The kids sounded really ecstatic about it last night."

His eyes looked up at the sky.

"f.u.c.k, man, it's been a nightmare. Two months of hoo-ha and the kids getting so high they might as well be on drugs."

I had to laugh. I'd been following the buildup to this from Josh over the phone, but no one was going to stop him honking about it a bit more now.

"I've been to meetings, meetings about meetings, sewing cla.s.ses, discussion groups, you name it; that's been my life for the last two f.u.c.king months."

There was going to be a summit between the Israelis and Palestinians in Washington, D.C. Clinton was out to look the big-time statesman, brokering the peace deal, and somebody had come up with the bright idea of making the world's biggest peace quilt to commemorate the occasion.

Kids from all over had been sewing like crazy in preparation for the world's biggest photo opportunity on the White House lawn.

Josh said, "I mean, do you have any idea how many st.i.tches it takes to sew on just one f.u.c.king little shape?"

"Don't worry about it, mate," I said.

"They'll turn it into a TV commercial for c.o.ke and then you'll all be rich."

The bosun wanted us.

"Oi, you two! Come down and get your rations or ye'll swing from the yardarm!"

"Aye aye, sir!"

"I can't hear you. What did you say?"

Josh got into 82nd Airborne mode, snapped to attention and screamed, "SIR! AYE AYE SIR!".

The old boy flogging the Big Issue started to cheer and clap, though I wasn't too sure whether the bosun liked the compet.i.tion. Josh collected his food and sat down amongst the kids, trying to pinch some of their breakfast.

I got my ration of authentic Elizabethan nuggets, doughnuts and pirate cola. A train from London Bridge station rattled along the elevated railway line behind us, the bells of Southwark Cathedral just fifty meters away fired off a salvo, telling us it was 10:30 a.m." and here I was wondering for the millionth time how I'd landed myself with all this. Josh told me he'd always loved the idea of being with the kids, but had never realized the stress of looking after them all the time until his wife left. Me, I loved it when I was with Kelly, but hated the idea of it. The responsibility filled me with dread. When it came to the world of emotions I was a beginner.

My birthday girl was holding court, telling Josh's kids about her boarding school.

"I got a twenty pence fine because I didn't wear my slippers to the shower room last week." She loved the idea of being the same as the other girls; the fact that she had been fined meant she was one of the crowd.

"Yes, and who has to pay the fine?" I said.

She laughed.

"My manager."

Her school had been fantastic about everything, even though they knew only the bare bones of what had happened. I agreed with Josh that it was the best thing to do, taking her right away from the U.S. and an environment that would bring back memories and screw her up even more. She never brought up the subject of what had happened the day her parents and sister died, but she had no problem talking about them if things came up in daily life to remind us of them. Only once had I made a direct reference, and she'd just said, "Nick, that was a long time ago."

She began telling everyone about the week's plans.

"Nick couldn't see me on my birthday and had to leave me with Granny and Grandad the day before. But this week we're going to see the b.l.o.o.d.y Tower."

"What?" Josh's mouth dropped open. He might be ex-Airborne at work, but within earshot of his kids not even the mildest cuss would pa.s.s his lips.

"She means the Tower of London," I said.

"There's a place called the b.l.o.o.d.y Tower; it's where the Crown Jewels are kept, I think. Something like that." History had never been my strong point.

Kelly's face lit up at the thought of seeing all those jewels. As a child, I'd never known that sort of joy. My mother and stepfather never took me anywhere; all they ever gave me was promises. When I was about eight, HMS Belfast docked by Tower Bridge and became a museum. All the kids on the estate went, but not me all I got for weeks was lOUs. At last I was told I was going with my Auntie Pauline. I spent hours trailing around the local shops behind her, asking when we were going.

"In a minute, son, not long now." The b.i.t.c.h was lying, just like my parents. The whole thing had been a ploy to get me off their hands while they went out on the p.i.s.s. After that I didn't even bother to ask. f.u.c.k 'em. I had another eight years before I could leave home; I'd treat it like a waiting room.

"... then we're going to have a sleepover at the place where all the mummies are. There's a museum where you can spend the ..."

She was interrupted by the bosun, who'd maybe guessed that the tall sailors needed a rest.

"It's time for some seafaring tales while ye have your feed. So listen in, all ye crew, small and tall!"

It was while we were sitting there listening to the sea tales, and I was digging a chicken nugget into my red sauce, that I felt my pager go off. I liked the fact that people needed me to do things they couldn't do themselves, but I always kept it on vibrate because I hated the noise it made; it always spelled trouble, like an alarm clock that wakes you on a morning you're dreading.

I took it out of its little carrying case, which was attached to the draw cord of my trousers, and checked the screen. It was displaying only a phone number. I was aware that Josh was looking at me. He knew exactly what it was. The other kids were too busy listening to stories of doom and gloom on the high seas to notice, but Kelly never missed a trick. She shot me a concerned glance, which I ignored.

Pager networks cover a larger area than mobile phones, which was why the Intelligence Service used them. I preferred them anyway, because it gave me time to adjust mentally before someone b.o.l.l.o.c.ked me or even worse, gave me the job from h.e.l.l. I'd had the pager for only about six months. I wasn't too sure if it was a promotion to be given one, or if it meant I was considered a sad f.u.c.k and always available, locked away like a guard dog until needed, then once done, given a bone and sent back into the kennel.

Josh raised an eyebrow.

"Dramas?"

I shrugged.

"Dunno, I'm gonna have to phone. Can you hold the fort?"

He nodded.

"See you in a few."

The stories were still going on and the rest of the crew were producing tubs of ice cream for the spellbound kids. I slipped away and went down the stairs to one of the lower decks, where we were going to be sleeping that night. Mattresses were spread out on the floor, and we'd had to bring our own fluffy sleeping bags, just like sixteenth-century sailors did, ho ho.

I rummaged in my holdall for some small change, and went upstairs and tried to sneak off the boat without Kelly seeing me.

I should have known better. She must have been watching me like a hawk; as I looked around and saw her, I put my hand up and mouthed, "Be back in a minute," pointing at the pub. She looked puzzled, and more than a bit anxious. Josh was still with them, nodding and grimacing and generally joining in with the tales of seafaring derring-do. The cathedral bell rang out to tell me it was now eleven o'clock.

I found a pay phone in the pub hallway. The Olde Thameside Inn had its first customers of the day: traders from the fruit market drinking pints, rubbing shoulders with the City dealers and their bottled beer. As I stood with my finger in my ear trying to listen for the dialing code, I found myself looking at racks of tourist flyers, rows and rows of the things telling me how great the Tower of London was, all of them seeming to point the finger at the scurvy mutineer who might be jumping ship.

I pushed a couple of coins into the slot and dialed the number, putting my finger back into my other ear to cut out Oasis on the juke box. After just one ring a very crisp, efficient female voice said, "h.e.l.lo?"

"It's Nick, returning the page."

"Where are you?"

She knew exactly where I was. Every call to the Firm is logged on a digital display. They put as much effort into spying on each other as they do against the enemy. It was pointless tapping in 141 before the number, and saying, "I'm in Glasgow and can't get back," because whatever I did the display would still tell her I was at a pay phone in Southwark.

I said, "London."

"Please wait."

She pressed the cut-out b.u.t.ton. Two minutes later she came back.

"You need to be at Gatwick at three thirty this afternoon."

My heart sank, but I already knew I was going to be there.

"How long for?" Not that it mattered much, I was already a couple of jumps ahead, thinking about how I was going to make excuses to a recently turned nine-year-old.

She said, "I don't have that information."

Once she'd finished with the details of the RV I put the phone down, expecting a refund of my unused coin, but I got nothing. The phone box in the pub was one of those private ones where you can charge whatever you want. For a pound I got all of sixty seconds.

I walked back, making my way around the crowd outside that had moved with the sun toward the ship. I was racking my brains thinking of what I was going to say. Not to Josh that wouldn't be a problem but to Kelly.

I saw Josh looking for me. It was only about twenty or thirty meters to the gangplank, and I was looking up at him and slowly shaking my head, getting some of the message across in advance. He knew exactly what was happening; he'd been there himself.

I went up the gangplank, pretty certain I would be in the s.h.i.t, and no doubt starting to look suitably guilty. This was the first occasion Kelly and I had had any decent time together since she'd been in the U.K.; it was like a newlywed leaving his honeymoon to go back to the office.

As I got on deck she and a few other kids were helping to clear up the plates under the bosun's instructions. For a horrible second or two I had a flashback other in her house just before her family was killed, laying the table for her mother in the kitchen. It made me feel even more guilty, but I told myself we'd both get over it. She would be upset but I could make it up to her when I came back. Besides, she'd seen Josh and the kids, and we'd had a whale of a time. She'd understand. Plus, she could see her grandparents now.

Josh knew what was on the cards. He bent down to his kids.

"Yo!" He clapped his hands together as they waited for the instruction.

"OK, kids, let's get all these plates back to the bosun," and he dragged them away.

I said, "Kelly?"

"Mmm?" She didn't look up, just carried on being too busy picking up plates. She wasn't going to make it easy for me to give her the news.

"That was my boss on the phone. He wants me to go away."

She still didn't look me in the eye as she put the plates in a bin. She said, "Why?"