The crying switched back to anger and she pushed me away.
'You used to care for me, Nick. Haven't you any fucking boundaries?' She covered her face with her hands, wiping away the tears.
'I can't believe you were going to kill me, or even think of it.'
'No, Sarah, no ... I wasn't...'
The crying changed to convulsive sobs. It sounded as if she were haveing a breakdown.
'I got it so wrong, Nick, so fucking wrong ... I thought I had it all worked out... all under control... I even trusted you. How could I have been so stupid?'
I stroked her cheek wordlessly, then ran my fingers through her hair as she carried on.
'You were right... you were right. I wanted to be the one, I wanted to do it all myself... I wanted it so badly, it just got out of control. Once it started I couldn't go anywhere for help, I had to go it alone.' She squeezed me hard and carried on sobbing.
'What am I going to do. Nick?
Or maybe you don't care?'
It was pointless asking me. I was still trying to get over my own guilt.
Fucking hell, I'd got so far down the line that I'd switched the freezer on. How could I have done that to her? Maybe I didn't have moral boundaries like normal people. Was I always going to be the freak without emotion?
She was still in remorse overload; it was as if she was talking to herself.
'I could have done something about it in the beginning, but no, I wanted to be the one to get the credit. I'm so sorry, so sorry. Oohhh, shit, what have I done, Nick?'
She squeezed her arms around me even more, desperately wanting support.
I put my arms around her and she sobbed her heart out. I wanted to give her the comfort she needed, but just didn't have the tools. I'd never really needed them.
'I don't know what to do, Sarah,' I whispered.
'Just hold me. Nick, just hold me.'
I hugged her tighter. I felt strangely good about what I was doing. We stood there for minutes, rocking gently in each other's arms, her sobs slowly subsiding. I doubted there were any more tears left for her to cry.
She wiped her face on my shirt. I tried to lift her chin, but she resisted.
'I'm sorry, Nick. I'm just so sorry...' She moved away from me and wiped her face with her palms, the sniffles starting to slow down in frequency as she regained some of her composure.
'Sarah, where are they going to make the hit?'
She looked up, breathless.
'The White House, tomorrow.'
'How? How will they do it?' I needed to know for when I called London.
It would be my justification for returning with her alive. She was in the shit, I understood that, but so would I be if I helped her and hadn't prepared my tuppence worth for the inquiry that was bound to follow.
She sniffed loudly.
'There's a photo call on the White House lawn with Clinton, Arafat and Netanyahu. They'll give a press conference, then there'll be a ceremony with white doves and songs for peace, kids singing, all that sort of nonsense for the cameras. I don't know any more. The two that were arriving yesterday from Washington had all the details. The team works in just the same way as we do: no details until the last minute.
All we knew was that we were already accredited to enter the White House as news crew.'
'So that's why the old guy had a suit?'
She nodded.
'We were going to be part of Monica Beach. Oh, shit, Nick, how did I ever think I could do this on my own?'
Monica Beach was what the media called the area of the White House that TV crews gave their reports from, because ever since the Lewinsky affair, it had been even more crowded than Santa Monica beach.
My first reaction was that it sounded more like something out of a B movie than a real plan.
'It wouldn't work; they'd never get out of there.'
The tears started again.
'Nick, these people don't care. Survival isn't an issue. Look who they have for their inspiration. Bin Laden's devoted his life to driving the Russians out of Afghanistan, and is now doing the same to drive the Americans from Saudi. He both finances and inspires them. Pakistani, Palestinian, even Americans. Dying is not an issue with these people, you know that.'
I found myself nodding.
'If you can't attack your enemy, you attack the friend of your enemy. And what better way to show the world that even the mighty U.S.A. can't protect anyone from Allah's vengeance, even in its own backyard.' As I spoke, I realized what a fucking idiot I'd been, just keeping my head down, concentrating on the job, trying not to think about where all this was heading.
'Shit, Sarah, explain to me in detail, the kids singing and white doves bit.'
I could see her scrolling through her memory for the information; she took a breath and wiped her nose as she gathered her thoughts.
'After a press conference, there's going to be a ceremony involving about two hundred kids. They'll present a peace quilt made from patches sewn in the U.S.' Israel and Palestine to the three leaders on the White House lawn, in front of the North Portico. The kids will sing songs of peace and white doves will be released as Netanyahu, Arafat and Clinton hold the blanket for the cameras.'
Now I knew what had been troubling me. My heart started pounding and I thought I was going to vomit. I sounded surprisingly calm for someone whose mind was working at warp speed.
'My friend's kids are going to be there ...'
There was a look of horror on her face.
'Oh, shit. Nick, one of the options was a bombing. It wasn't their first choice, but now, who knows?
Without the assault weapons, it will be the easiest way.' She started to cry again.
I grabbed her and forced her to look me in the face. Her eyes were puffed up, her cheeks wet and red.
'Sarah, I've got to make a call.'
She started to beg.
'Please don't, Nick. Calling won't solve it. Your friend's children might be saved, but the others will still die.'
I put my hand up to her mouth. I understood what she was saying. I couldn't call Josh anyway: he would only get back just in time for the final rehearsal. Did I give a fuck about the other kids? Yes, of course I did, just not as much as I did about Josh's.
'I have to call someone to get his number, that's all.'
I strode back to the bank of phones, got the phone card out and dialed.
Miss Grenfell-Brodie answered. I said, 'Hello, it's Nick Stone again. I'm very sorry to bother you, but would it be possible to talk to Kelly? I'll phone back in fifteen minutes if that's all right.'
She was obviously getting used to this. I could almost hear her sigh.
'Yes, of course, but please try not to do this too much, Mr. Stone. It disrupts her routine. Phone calls can be arranged through this office at a more convenient time for everyone concerned.'
'Thank you for telling me, I wasn't aware of that. It won't happen again, I promise. Could you ask her to bring her address book with her?'
'Yes, of course. She will be brushing her teeth. She's just had breakfast.
I will fetch her.'
'Thank you.' I put the phone down. I did know about booking calls.
But then again, fuck 'em. Who was paying the bills?
Sarah arched an eyebrow.
'Who is Kelly?'
'Never mind.'
We stood there waiting. I could see that she was dying to say something more, but she knew me well enough to know I wasn't in the mood to answer.
