The news was on. I turned and watched, but there was nothing about the murders. Maybe we were already old news.
I hoped so.
"Can I have your card?"
I pulled a face.
"Ah, that's where we have a problem. We're on a fly-drive vacation, and we've had our bags stolen. We've been to see the police and I'm waiting for replacement cards, but I'm just running on cash at the moment. I understand you have to have it for the record, but maybe if I pay in advance, and you disconnect the room phone?"
She was starting to nod her head, but her expression was still the wrong side of sympathetic.
"We're really stuck." I played the wet and sorrowful Brit abroad.
"We've got to go to the British consulate tomorrow and sort out our passports." I brought out some twenty-dollar bills.
It seemed to take a while for it all to sink in.
"I'm so sorry to hear about that." She paused, waiting for more chemicals to interact in her brain.
"I'll get the manager."
She went into the office, and I watched her talking to the bald guy at his desk. From their body language I got the impression he was her father. I felt a drop of sweat roll down my spine. If they refused us a room, we were stranded maybe miles from the next motel and would need to start ordering taxis and raising our profile.
Hurry up! I turned and looked outside but couldn't see Kelly. Fuck, I hoped Mr. Honest Citizen wasn't about to storm in demanding to know who'd left a little girl all alone outside in the rain. I quickly walked to the door and stuck my head outside. She was still there, standing where I'd asked her to.
I came back to the reception desk just as Dad appeared from the back office. The woman was on the telephone, taking a reservation.
"Just making sure our car isn't blocking the way." I grinned.
"I hear you have a problem?" Dad had a vacant smile on his face. I knew we were OK.
"Yes." I sighed. "We've been to the police and contacted the credit card companies. We're just waiting for it to get sorted out. Until then, all I've got is cash. I'll pay for the next three days in advance."
"That's no problem."
I was sure it wasn't. There was no way our little cash transaction would be finding its way onto the books. What some people call white trash, Kev used to call "salt of the earth";
they might take a while to understand things, but money is money in any language.
He smiled.
"We'll keep the telephone on for you."
I played the thankful Brit and checked in, then Kelly and I bounded up two flights of concrete and cinder-block stairs.
Kelly hesitated outside the room, then looked at me and said, "Nick, I want to see Mommy. When can I go home?"
Shit, not that again. I wished more than anything that she could go and see Mommy. It would be one less problem.
"Not long now, Kelly," I said.
"I'll get some food in a minute,
OK?"
"OK."
Once inside, I lay down on the bed and thought out the priorities.
"Nick?"
"Yes?" I was looking at the ceiling.
"Can I watch TV?"
Thank God for that.
I reached over to the remote and quickly checked the channels, making sure I wasn't going to catch us both on the news.
I found Nickelodeon and stuck with it.
I'd made a decision.
"I'm going out now to buy us something to eat," I said, my mind on the one option that hadn't yet been closed.
"You stay here, the same as before. I'll put the do not disturb sign on the door, and you make sure that you don't open it for anybody. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
The phone booth was next to a Korean grocery store. It was still drizzling; I could hear the noise of tires on wet asphalt as I crossed the road.
I pushed in a couple of quarters and dialed.
I got "Good evening, British Embassy. How may I help you?"
"I'd like to speak to the defense attache, please."
"May I say who's calling?"
"My name is Stamford." Fuck it, I had nothing to lose.
"Thank you, one moment please."
Almost immediately, a no-nonsense voice came on the line: "Stamford?"
"Yes."
"Wait."
There was a long continuous tone; I was starting to think I'd been cut off again. Then, thirty seconds later, I heard Simmonds.
My call must have been patched through to London.
Unflappable as ever, he said, "It seems you're in a spot of trouble."
"Trouble's not the word."
In veiled speech I told him everything that had happened since my last call. Simmonds listened without interruption, then said, "There's not really a lot I can do. Obviously, you understand the situation I'm in?" I could tell he was pissed off with me big-time.
"You were told to return immediately.
You disobeyed an order. You should not have gone to see him, you know that." He was still cool about it all, but under the veneer I knew he was boiling.
I could just picture him behind his desk in his crumpled shirt and baggy cords, with the family photo and maybe Easter eggs for his family on his desk, next to a pile of red-hot faxes from Washington that had to be attended to.
"It's got nothing on the situation I can put you in," I said.
"I've got stuff that would make your lot look not very British at all. I'll blow it to whoever wants to listen. It's not a bluff. I need help to get out of this shit and I want it now."
There was a pause: the patient parent waiting for a child to stop its tantrum.
He said, "Your position is pretty delicate, I'm afraid. There is nothing I can do unless you have some form of proof that you're not implicated. I suggest you make every effort to discover what has happened and why, then we can talk and I might be able to help. How does that sound to you? You can carry out your threat, but I wouldn't recommend it."
I could feel his hand tighten around my balls. Whether they complied or called my bluff, I'd be spending the rest of my life on the run. The Firm does not like being strong-armed.
"I've got no choice really, have I?"
"I'm glad you see it like that. Bring what you find."
The phone went dead.
My mind racing, I wandered into the shop. I bought a bottle of hair color one wash in, twelve washes out and a hair-trimmer gadget. I also bought a full range of washing and shaving supplies because we couldn't look like a couple of scruffies at large in D.C. Then I filled the basket with bottles of Coca-Cola and some apples and candy.
I couldn't find a Mickey D's and ended up in a Burger King. I bought two meal deals, then went back to the hotel.
I knocked on the door as I opened it.
"Guess what I've got burgers, fries, apple pies, hot chocolate, coffee for me.. ."
By the wall next to the window was a little circular table and PVC chairs. The shopping bags went on the bed; I dumped the burgers on the table with a flourish, like a re turning hunter. Ripping the bags open to make a tablecloth, I tipped the fries out, opened the ketchup, and we both dived in. She must have been starving.
I waited until she had a mouthful of burger.
"Listen, Kelly, you know how grown-up girls are always dyeing their hair and cutting it and all sorts of stuff ? I thought you might like to try it."
She couldn't have looked less interested.
"What do you fancy, a really dark brown?"
She shrugged.
I wanted to get it done before she understood too much of what was happening. The moment she'd finished her hot apple pie, I led her to the bathroom and got her to take off her shirt. I tested the shower temperature and leaned her over the sink, quickly wetting her hair, then toweled and brushed it. I got the trimmer going but I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing. I realized it was for beards, really, and by the time I'd got the hang of it her hair looked like shit. The more I tried to sort it, the shorter it was getting. Soon it was up around her collar.