There was no way that would have happened. People didn't just wander in off the street into Kev's house; they had to be invited in.
I felt a rush of anger. If the family had been killed in a car crash, that would have been one thing. If the killers had come in and maybe shot them, I'd be upset, but, at the end of the day, if you live by the sword, you must be prepared to die by the sword. But not like this. They'd been hacked up for no reason that I could see.
I forced myself to think rationally. There was no way I could phone the police and explain my version. Although I'd been lifted off, I was still operating in another country without its consent. Getting caught would be a big no-no. The operation here would be seen as a sign of betrayal and would create distrust between the two security
communities. There was no way the Firm would back me up; that would defeat the whole purpose of deniable ops. I was on my own.
Looking at my passenger, I knew I had a problem. As we drove toward Tyson's Corner I realized what I had to do. I saw a Best Western hotel on the left and an open-plan mall on the right. I had to dump the car, because that was one of the connections between me and the house. I needed somewhere to leave it that wasn't isolated, somewhere without video cameras.
As well as the shopping mall and its massive parking lots, on the outskirts was a drive-thru Burger King with its own parking.
It was all very well abandoning a vehicle in the middle of hundreds of others in a parking lot during shopping hours.
But at night, it might be the only car left there and was going to stick out, and it would be checked out by police patrols.
What I was after was an area that was really busy, day and night. Streets or multilevel parking garages were out, because nine times out of ten they have video cameras to stop muggings and car theft. Many multi story parking lots have a camera that takes a picture of the license plate and driver as you enter. At any major junction and along most major thoroughfares, there are traffic video cameras. If my car had been found outside Kev's house, the first thing they'd do was study the traffic videos and parking lot photography.
'Shall we get a burger and some shakes?' I suggested.
'Do you like milk shakes? I tell you what, I'll park and maybe we'll even go shopping.'
Again it would be no good driving into the Burger King parking lot, stepping out, and then walking a few hundred yards to the shopping mall that isn't normal behavior. It might stick in people's minds and be recalled at a later date, so I wanted to make the two of us look as natural as possible.
'Strawberry, chocolate, or vanilla which one do you want?'
No reply.
'Strawberry? Go on, I'm going to have a strawberry.'
Nothing.
I parked. The place was pretty full. I cupped my hand under her chin and gently turned her face so that she was looking at my big smile.
'Milk shake?'
There was a faint movement of her head, or maybe it was a nod of appreciation. Not much, but at least it was a reaction.
I carried on with the bullshit.
'You just sit here then; I'll get out, I'll lock the car, go and get the milk shakes. And then I tell you what, we'll go into the shopping mall. How about that?'
She looked away.
I continued as if she'd given me a positive response. I got out of the car and locked her in. I still had the pistol tucked down in my waistband, concealed by Kev's jacket.
I went into the Burger King, got two different flavor milk shakes, and came straight back to the car.
'Here we go then, chocolate or vanilla?'
She kept her hands by her sides.
'I tell you what, I'll have the vanilla; I know you like chocolate.'
I put the shake in her lap. It was too cold for her legs; as soon as she lifted it up I said, 'Come on, then, let's go to the shops. You can bring that with you.'
I got her out, closed the door, and locked up. I did nothing about our fingerprints; no matter how hard I tried, I'd never get rid of them all, so what was the point? I opened the trunk, pulled out the bag with the bits and pieces I'd bought at Shannon, and threw in the trash bag full of bloodstained clothing.
It looked like rain. We walked toward the shopping mall; I kept on talking to her because the situation felt so awkward.
What else do you do, walking along with a kid who doesn't belong to you and doesn't want to be with you?
I tried to hold her hand but she refused. I couldn't make an issue of it with people around. I gripped the shoulder of the jacket again.
There was everything in the shopping center from a computer discount warehouse to an army surplus store, all housed in long one-story units that were like islands in a sea of parking lot.
We went into a clothing store, and I bought myself some jeans and another shirt. I'd change as soon as I'd had a shower and got Aida's blood off my back and legs.
At an ATM I drew out three hundred dollars, the maximum allowed on my credit card.
We came back out to the parking lot but didn't return to the car. I kept a firm grip on her as we walked toward the hotel across the road. As we got nearer I could see that the Best Western was in fact farther away than I first thought, separated from the main drag by a row of single-story office buildings. Our view was of the rear of the hotel.
Looking each way, it was obvious that the junctions that would lead us around to the front of the hotel were miles away. I decided to take a shortcut. The traffic was heavy, and the road system hadn't been designed for people on foot. I gripped Kelly's hand as we dodged to the median strip and waited for another gap. I looked up at the sky: it was very overcast; rain couldn't be far away.
Drivers, who had probably never seen pedestrians before, beeped furiously, but we made it to the other side and scrambled over small railings onto the sidewalk. More or less directly in front of us was a gap between two office buildings. We went through and crossed a short stretch of vacant ground that brought us into the hotel parking lot. As we walked past the lines of vehicles I memorized the sequence of letters and numbers for a Virginia plate.
The Best Western was a large four-story rectangle, the architecture very 1980s. Every elevation was concrete, painted the world's weirdest off-yellow. As we walked up to the reception area, I tried to look inside. I didn't want them to see us coming from the direction of the parking lot, because it would be odd to walk all that way without first checking that they had a room, and then unloading our bags. I hoped Kelly would stay silent when we were inside; I just wanted to do the business and walk out again as if we were going to see Mommy back in the car.
Inside the lobby I got hold of Kelly and whispered, 'You just sit there. I'm going to get us a room.' I gave her a tourist brochure that was lying on one of the chairs, but she ignored it.
In one corner, by the coffee machine and cream, was a large TV. A baseball game was on. I went over to the receptionist, a woman in her mid-forties who thought she was still twenty-four, who was watching the screen, probably fantasizing about her chances with one of the pitchers.
All smiles, I said, 'I need a family room just for one night, please.'
'Certainly, sir,' she said, an honors graduate from Best Western's charm school.
'If you'd like to fill out this card.'
As I started to scribble I said, 'How much is a room, anyway?' 'That's sixty-four dollars, plus tax.'
I raised an eyebrow to make it look as if that was a lot of money to a family man like myself.
'I know,' she smiled.
'I'm sorry about that.'
She took my credit card and I filled in the form with crap.
I'd been doing this for donkey's years, lying on hotel forms, looking relaxed as I wrote but in fact scanning
