they were in this state in the first place.
We left the same way we'd come. I was gripping Kelly's hand, more or less dragging her along, keeping an eagle eye on Jenny and Ricky. I didn't want the neighbors hearing screams for lost teddies.
As we drove, bursts of light from the streetlamps strobed into the back of the car, and I could see Kelly in the rearview mirror. She was looking miserable, her eyes puffy and wet.
She had every right to be sad. She was bright enough to realize that this was probably the last time she'd ever be here.
This wasn't her home anymore. Now she was the same as me.
Neither of us had one. I hit the Dulles Airport access road and headed for economy parking. I allowed myself a wry smile; if this kept up, it would soon be full of my stolen cars. I could hear the light patter of rain on the roof as we parked.
Ron and Melvin might have made a connection between me and the car because of the drive-by. If they were back in circulation by now, they might be able to track us down.
There was not a lot I could do about it but just sit tight and hope that the mass of cars and the rain would conceal us, because it was far too early for a child to be moving around an airport with an adult man with scabs on his face.
I turned around in the seat and said, 'Are you all right, Kelly? I'm sorry I had to shout, but it was really important to get out quick.'
She was looking down at one of the teddies, picking its fur, pouting.
I said, 'You're not a bad girl and I'm sorry that I told you off. I didn't really mean it, I was just getting excited.'
She nodded slowly, still playing with her furry friend.
'Do you want to come to England?'
She looked up. She didn't say anything, but I took it as a yes.
'That's good, because I would like you to come, too.
You've been a really good girl, you always do what I say. Do you want to help me again?'
She shrugged. I leaned over and picked up the other teddy and rubbed its face against her cheek.
'We'll get Jenny and Ricky to help me as well. How about that?'
She gave a reluctant nod.
'First of all, we've got to sort out the bag.'
I got into the backseat and put the duffel between us, opening it up.
'What do you think we should take out then?'
I knew exactly what we were going to take out: the blanket and washing kit, because they were the only things I needed now. I said, 'What do you reckon? Is that all?' She nodded and agreed as if she'd packed it herself.
I put everything else into the trunk. The rain was coming down more heavily. I sat with her again and pulled out the blanket.
'We have to wait here for the next couple of hours.
It's too early to go to the airport yet. You can take a nap if you like.'
I folded up the bag and made a pillow.
'There, that's better--cuddle Jenny and Ricky.'
She looked at me and smiled. We were mates again.
'Are you going away again. Nick?'
For once I was staying put.
'No, I'm going to do some work. You just go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere.' I got out and sat in the front again. I rested the laptop on my knees and lifted the screen. I checked that the keys were in the ignition and I could easily grab the steering wheel. I had to be ready to move at once if we got spotted.
I pressed the On switch, and as the screen lit up it cast a glow through the inside of the car. I inserted Kev's floppy disk. I was desperate to read the rest of his report, but first I downloaded everything onto the laptop. As I waited, I said quietly, 'Kelly?' There was no reply. The gentle rhythm of the rain had done its job.
I began reading where I'd left off. Gibraltar had always been a center for international drug trafficking, money laundering, and smuggling, but it seemed that in 1987, Spain not only still wanted Gib back, it also wanted the Brits to clean it up. Thatcher's government told the Gibraltarians to sort it out, but the high-powered speedboats still ran drugs from North Africa. The Brits threatened direct control of the colony if the trafficking didn't stop and, at the same time, ordered a highly illegal operation against police and government officials they suspected of involvement. The boys taking the hush money got the hint and suddenly ceased doing business with PIRA and everyone else.
My eyes were racing ahead of my brain.
The closure of the Gibraltar route was all well and good for the war against corruption, but the Colombians were very pissed off. A major trade artery had been clamped, and they wanted it reopened. According to Kev's findings, they'd decided a show of strength was required. They wanted Gibraltar bombed as a warning that the local officials should start co operating again, and they ordered PIRA to carry it out.
PIRA had a problem with this. It wanted the route re opened as much as the Colombians did, but, after the debacle of Enniskillen, it couldn't run the risk of killing non-UK civilians and invoking even greater international condemnation. PIRA had refused to do it.
From evidence that Kev had gathered, the cartels' reply to PIRA was blunt: either you bomb Gibraltar or we shift our drug business to the other side the Protestant UVF. For PIRA, not a good day out.
PIRA's head honchos came up with a solution, and as I read on, I couldn't help but admire it.
'Mad Danny' McCann had already been kicked out of PIRA and was rein stated against Gerry Adams's wishes. Mairead Farrell, after the death of her boyfriend, had become too fanatical for her own good 'a bit of a social hand grenade,' Simmonds had said other. PIRA's plan was to send to Gibraltar two players they'd be happy to see the back of, together with Sean Savage, who had the misfortune to be part of the same Active Service Unit.
The team had the technology and Semtex for the bomb but were told that the explosives were to stay behind in Spain until it had finished its recons and rehearsals. The team was told to take it in once the blocking car was in position, to guarantee the correct placement of the bomb. PIRA then gave the three players bad passports and leaked information to London. They wanted the Brits to react and stop the bombing so that when the three were arrested they could claim to the cartels that they'd given it their best shot.
We'd been duly told about the ASU, but we'd also been briefed that there would be no blocking car and that the bomb would be detonated by a handheld device. These last two pieces of intelligence meant that McCann, Farrell, and Savage had never stood a chance. They were dead from the moment we thought the bomb was in position and armed, because at some stage one of them was bound to make a hand movement that would be construed as an attempt to detonate the device.
I certainly wouldn't have taken the chance that Savage was only going for his packet of mints, and Euan obviously didn't when he initiated the contact with McCann and Farrell. In Pat's immortal words: Better to be tried by twelve than carried by six.
A dialogue box came up on the screen telling me that I was running short of power and needed to plug into another power source. Fuck! I wanted to read more. I got back to the screen and read as fast as I could to get the general idea.
Even though there hadn't been a bomb, the cartels had accepted that their Irish lackies were playing ball. After all, three of their people had been killed in the process. PIRA kept the trade with the Colombians, even though, as Big Al had said, it was thereafter routed through South Africa, then Spain.
PIRA was in seventh heaven. It had gotten rid of two trouble makers, not quite in the way that it had intended, but three martyrs had been created, with the result that PIRA's cause at home was strengthened, and even more dollars rolled into the coffers.
It was only the Brits who appeared to have been left with egg on their faces, but even so, no matter how much the inter national community publicly condemned the shootings, in secret most heads of state admired Thatcher's muscular stand against terrorism.
Fuck it. Another box came up and told me to plug into an external power source. I switched off the laptop
