going to keep the USP in the room. I hid it in the toilet tank. A weapon can stand getting wet in the short term. I just didn't want her to find it and start putting holes in herself.
I dozed some more, woke up, and dozed again. By 7 a.m. I was bored and hungry. Breakfast was included in the room price, but to get it I'd have to go downstairs to the lobby.
Kelly started to stir. I said, 'Good morning. Do you fancy something to eat?'
She was all yaw ny sitting up and looking like a scarecrow because she'd gone to sleep with wet hair. Immediately I put the TV on for her, because I didn't really know what to say.
She looked down at her clothes, trying to work it out.
'You fell asleep,' I laughed.
'I couldn't even undress you last night. Hey, it's like camping, isn't it?'
She liked that.
'Yeah.' She smiled, still sleepy 'Shall I go and get you some breakfast?'
She didn't look up, just nodded at the television.
'Remember, you must do this every time; you never ever open the door. I'll come back using the key. Don't even open the curtains, because the cleaning ladies will think it's OK to come in, and we don't want to talk to anyone, do we? I'll leave the do not disturb sign, OK?'
She nodded. I wasn't sure how much of it had gone in. I picked up the tray the ice bucket was on, put on my glasses, and went down to reception.
It was already fairly crowded: people with RVs who couldn't be bothered to sleep in them, and salesmen looking clean, fresh, and straight out of the 'appearance counts' section of the manual.
The breakfast area was made up of two or three tables by the coffeepots under the TV. I took three packets of cereal, bagels and muffins, some apples, then two cups of coffee and an orange juice.
The desk clerk had just finished her shift and came over.
'I
hope everything goes OK. with your passports and all.' She smiled, helping herself to a bagel.
'I'm sure it'll be fine. We're just going to concentrate on having a good vacation.'
'If you need any help, you just come and ask.'
'Thanks.' I walked over to the desk and picked up a complimentary USA Today. I also helped myself to a book of Roadies Inn matches from a whole bowl of them and a paper clip that was in a big ashtray full of elastic bands and office supplies, and went back to the room.
Ten minutes later Kelly was munching on her cereal, glued to Nickelodeon. I said, 'I'm going out for about an hour. I've got to do stuff. While I'm away, I want you to wash up and be all nice and clean for when I get back, and have your hair brushed. Are you going to be all right on your own, with your big-girl haircut?'
She shrugged.
'Whatever.'
'What are your favorite colors?'
'My favorite colors are pink and blue.'
'Well, we've got the pink.' I pointed at the coat hanging up with her shoes sticking out of the pockets. That had been a bit of luck.
'Now I've got to get you something blue.'
I gave my glasses a quick clean with toilet paper, put them back in their case and into Kev's jacket, then put my long black raincoat over the top, checking the pocket for the cylinder. I checked my pockets and took out the loose change.
I wanted to cut down on noise, and always felt better anyway with as little as possible dragging around my clothes.
I got my Kangol hat in my hand, and I was all ready to go.
'I won't be long. Remember, let no one in. I'll be back before you know it.'
It had stopped raining, but the sky was still gray and the ground wet. The road was choked with cars heading into downtown D.C. It's a people town; the sidewalks were busy, too.
I walked briskly to keep pace with the office workers, each with their 'Got to get up, got to get going' expression, looking all the time for the ideal place to make some money quickly and get back to the hotel before Kelly started panicking.
It was too early for a shopping mall, since they didn't open until tenish. And I wasn't in an area with a lot of hotels--they were all farther downtown. There were fast-food outlets but with normally just one way in and out, and too much rest room traffic, they wouldn't be a good choice. A service station would do, as long as it had an outside bathroom that could be opened only with a key obtained from the cashier.
I'd been wandering around for maybe twenty minutes. I walked through a couple of gas stations that were busy enough, but they were modern, with inside rest rooms.
Eventually I found what I was looking for, an outdoor rest room with a sign on the door that said key at desk. I checked to make sure that the door was locked, then I walked on.
I was looking for two things now: somewhere natural to watch the pumps from, and my escape route. Farther up, on the other side of the road, was a run of lawyers' offices, credit unions, insurance brokers, in wonderful 1930s brick detached houses; in between were what looked like well-used alleys. I crossed over, walked down one, and came out onto the parallel street; turning right, I followed the road to an intersection, turned left, then right again up another alley. The whole area was perfect for angles and distance. I made my way back to the gas station by a different route.
There was a bus stop across the street, about a hundred yards away. I strolled along to it, stood in a doorway, and waited; it had to look natural, I had to have a reason to be doing what I was doing. There were two or three people waiting, then the line got gradually longer, a bus came, and we were back to two or three again. I looked at the destination sign of each bus as it approached, looked fed up that it wasn't the one I wanted, and got back in the doorway.
People don't carry much cash with them nowadays, especially here in the land of the credit card. The ideal target would be a tourist they tend to carry more cash and traveler's checks but there weren't likely to be many in this part of town.
Over a period of about thirty minutes there'd been four or five possibles going in to fill up their cars, but unfortunately it seemed that none of them was in need of a shit. I thought about Kelly; I hoped she was sticking to the script.
A white guy in his late twenties drove up to the pumps in a new Camaro. It carried thirty-day plates while waiting for the new registration. He was wearing a baggy track suit that was red, blue, green, orange, and six other colors, and the world's most flamboyant basketball shoes to match. His hair was shaved at the sides, with the rest pointing skyward. The sound system was booming out bass that I could almost feel vibrating from across the street.
He filled up and went in to pay. When he came out he was carrying what looked like a small length of two- by-four. He turned left toward the rest room. This was my boy.
I stepped out of the doorway, turned my collar up, and headed across the road. He was putting his wallet into his track top and zipping up. I'd already checked the garage surveillance cameras; they wouldn't be a problem: they were focused on the pumps to catch drive-aways, not on the far end of the building to catch toilet paper thieves.
As I left the doorway I was a man who needed a piss and couldn't wait any longer for his bus to arrive. It was unlikely to register with anybody at the bus stop; first thing in the morning people are brooding about the day's work ahead, or about their mortgages or kids or the wife's headache the night before. They're not going to worry too much about a guy going into a toilet. I walked toward the door with just enough spring in my step to look like the man with the world's fullest bladder and went in.
The room was about twelve by twelve, fairly clean, reeking of bleach. Dead ahead were two urinals, with a sink and a wall-mounted paper-towel dispenser. My boy was in one of the two stalls to the right.
I could hear the sound of zippers being undone, the rustle of a general sorting out, and a little cough. I closed the door behind me and jammed in the two door stops with my shoe.
No one would be getting in or out of here unless I wanted them to.
I stood at the urinal and made it look as if I were taking a leak. My hands were in front of me, but holding the
