corridor. ‘Time for a smoke break.’
The men immediately downed their tools and headed for the emergency stairwell without a word or a second glance back. As the last man filed through the exit door Cano locked it from the inside and stood alone in the silent corridor. He watched a moment while the men surrounded the model on the table, Skender’s lips moving but not a sound penetrating the glass. Then Cano walked into a small kitchen by the exit, closed the door behind him and removed his mobile phone from a pocket. He punched in a number and held it to his ear as it chirped a couple of times before someone picked up at the other end.
‘Valon. What we talked about this morning – go ahead. Call me as soon as you have anything.’
Cano ended the call and pocketed the phone. Then he reached inside a pocket and removed a bottle of pills. His hand started to shake as he undid the top. His eye socket, which had been pulsating painfully for the past hour or so, had suddenly become excruciating. He popped the painkillers into his mouth, filled a plastic cup from the water dispenser and washed them down. As he stared at his battered face in the small mirror on the wall his expression changed to a snarl as the image of the man he hated most in the world overlaid his own.
19
Stratton stood on a corner a block from the child-protection centre, looking towards its entrance. He checked his watch. He’d been there nearly fifteen minutes and had begun to wonder if a hiccup in the plan had developed, although that was not the reason he felt restless – he’d been feeling that way practically all day. And since he’d arrived at the centre he’d had one of those strange tingles in the back of his neck, a nudge from his senses to tell him that someone was watching him. But the street was empty of any other life. He put it down to a general feeling of stress, a reaction to the murders that he had carried out.
The sound of a gate clanging shut cut through the silence and he watched Vicky, George and Josh heading down the sidewalk towards him.
When Josh saw Stratton he ran to him. They hugged each other tightly. George caught up and stopped beside them, looking envious at the affection that Josh was receiving.
‘How’s it going, George?’ Stratton asked as he ruffled the other boy’s hair.
‘I’m okay,’ came the reply.
Stratton looked up as Vicky approached. ‘Thanks,’ he said to her.
She smiled, although it was obvious that she was nervous. ‘Can we get away from here?’ she said, looking over her shoulder. ‘If Myers catches us I’m toast.’
Stratton led the way across the road. Within minutes they were in a taxi heading across town.
McDonald’s had been voted, by the boys of course, as the eatery of choice and Vicky directed the driver to one such establishment on Venice Boulevard.
Traffic was light and they arrived at the location within ten minutes, all alighting while Stratton paid the fare. As they faced the famous fast-food restaurant their faces fell at the sight of boarding over the doors and windows and a sign across the front in large letters announcing that it was ‘closed for renovations’.
‘Damn,’ Vicky muttered. ‘It’s closed.’
‘Bummer,’ George sighed.
‘Now what?’ she said, racking her brains for another location.
‘Can’t we just go to another?’ George asked.
Josh held on to Stratton’s hand, happy just to be out of the centre with him.
‘What do you think?’ Stratton asked.
‘I can’t think of anywhere close by,’ Vicky said, looking a little frustrated. ‘We’ll have to get another cab, I guess.’
Stratton looked across the road where a large army-surplus shop occupied the corner, a broad banner across its front stating
‘You guys got your soldiers with you?’ he asked.
The boys dug into their pockets to produce a small tank, an armoured car and a couple of dozen troops. Josh also had his little wooden camel.
‘Why don’t you go over to the park? I’ll be back in a minute.’
Vicky glanced at Stratton and he winked at her.
‘Okay,’ she sighed. Although she was confident that Stratton had a solution to the problem she could not imagine what it might be. ‘Come on.’
She took the boys’ hands and headed down the street towards the patch of green that boasted a couple of mature trees. Stratton crossed the road and stepped into the store, ducking through a colourful collection of sleeping bags and rucksacks dangling on display in the entrance. Inside was an Aladdin’s cave of camping and military paraphernalia. Ten minutes later he emerged with a bulging plastic bag.
Stratton joined the gang who had secured one of the two benches in the small park. Vicky sat patiently while the boys conducted a special forces assault at one end of the bench. Josh was firmly in command of the attacking forces and explained to his enemy commander that he couldn’t shoot Josh’s men scaling the bench legs because they did not have them in their sights below the cliff edge. George insisted that he had special guns that allowed him to shoot around corners – he’d read about them in a magazine somewhere.
They stopped the battle as soon as Stratton arrived and watched expectantly as he removed the contents of the bag. Vicky was equally curious, noting the slogan on the carrier bag which was the same as that on the banner across the front of the shop.
Stratton took out several heavy-duty plastic packages, what looked at first glance like a regular can of food but with unusual markings and a ring at either end, and some bottles of Coke and water. He laid them out on the bench.
‘What’s that?’ Josh asked.
‘Lunch,’ Stratton replied as he examined one of the packs. ‘MREs. Meals ready to eat. Army food.’
‘Wow!’ George exclaimed. ‘Real army food?’
‘Soldiers’ food for soldiers. Jambalaya or meat loaf in gravy?’ he asked.
‘What’s jambalaya?’ George asked.
‘You’re about to find out,’ Stratton said, handing him the pack. He gave the meat loaf to Josh. ‘Open up the bags and I’ll show you how to prepare the meal.’
They pulled the packages open with some difficulty to reveal in each one two slender cardboard containers, a flat plastic bag with a green filament insert at the bottom, a brown plastic spoon and a clear packet containing an assortment of accessories. These included chewing gum, a flat pack of toilet paper, a tiny bottle of Tabasco sauce, and a wrap of wind-proof matches.
‘I’ll take those for now,’ Vicky said, swiftly relieving the boys of their accessory bags. She’d spotted the gum and the matches.
‘Okay, watch carefully,’ Stratton said as he took George’s package and one of the plastic bags with the green inserts, opened a bottle of water and poured a small amount into the bag. He then removed a silver foil bag from each of the cardboard containers – one labelled rice, the other jambalaya – and inserted them snugly into the bag with water in it. Then he folded the end over to form a seal.
‘What are you doing?’ Josh asked.
‘Feel the bag,’ Stratton said, holding it out to him.
Josh gripped the bag and immediately pulled his hand away. ‘Wow! It’s hot!’
‘That’s how soldiers heat up their meals in the field.’
George felt the bag and snatched his hand away too, yelping with surprise.
Josh took the meat-loaf package and copied what Stratton had done while George gingerly took hold of the top of his bag.
‘In five minutes the foil bags’ll be as hot as the outside one.’
George studied his bag, fascinated by the tiny bubbles that fizzled up from the bottom of it as the chemical reaction between the water and the green filament continued.
‘Not too much water,’ Stratton advised as Josh poured some into his bag. ‘That’s enough. Now put in your
