From the perfume counter on the first floor it was straight into the parking lot. Then we started to walk along the side walk toward a string of smaller stores and snack bars.
Not a word had been said. No need; Pat knew what was happening.
We walked into a Sub Zone a very clinical, spotlessly clean franchise selling subs with the world's largest supply of hot fillings. I told Pat to order me a drink and a cheese and meat special. The place was full. That was good; it made life more complicated for anybody looking.
I said, "Sit over there at that table, mate, facing the rest rooms, and I'll be back in a minute."
He stood in line to order.
I went through the door to the rest rooms and on to the far end, where there was a fire escape. I wanted to be sure it hadn't been obstructed by a trash can or anything since I last checked. The fire-escape door was alarmed, so I wasn't going to test it to make sure it would open. I'd done my recon, so I knew what was on the other side and where to run.
Pat was already sitting down with two coffees and an order ticket. I was getting caffeine overload. I was also starting to feel like shit; the heat of the shopping mall and now this place, and the energy expended in this last two days, were taking their toll. But I had to keep on top of that, because this was an operation.
I sat down opposite him in the booth, looking beyond him at the glass storefront. I could see everybody coming in and out, and had a pillar and Pat as cover. I wanted to dominate the area because I needed to see what was going on.
I looked at Pat and decided not to josh him about his hair.
He looked wrecked and wasted. His eyes were no longer clear and sharp but red and clouded. He'd put on weight, and there was an overhang pulling at his T-shirt and flopping over his belt. His face looked puffy; I could only just make out his Adam's apple.
I said, "The reason why we're here is that I've come over on vacation, to see you, and we're shopping."
"Fine."
I still had to test him, in case he was wearing a wire.
"If there's a drama, I'm going to go through there." I pointed toward the rest rooms. I was waiting for him to say, "Oh, what, you're going to go to the bathroom?" for the benefit of anybody who might be listening in. But he didn't.
He just said, "OK." I was as sure as I could be that I was safe.
There was no more time to mess around.
I said, "You OK, mate?"
"So-so. Put it this way: a bit fucking better than you. How did you find me?"
"Sherry, at Good Fellas." I looked at him and he smiled.
"Yeah, good catch. Pat!"
His smile got bigger.
"Anyway, what's the score?"
"I've got every man and his dog after me."
"So it seems." His red eyes twinkled.
I started explaining and was still in full flow when the girl brought over the subs. They were huge, big enough to feed a family.
"What the fuck did you order?" I said.
"We're going to be here all day!"
Pat was hungry, fighting with the hot cheese as it sagged between his mouth and the sub. It made me wonder when he'd last eaten.
I was too busy chatting to eat. I said, "Look, mate, to tell you the truth, all I want to do is get the fuck back to the UK but that's going to be a pain in the ass. I need to know what's going on, I need to know why this is happening. Do you're member Simmonds?"
"Yeah. He still in?"
"Yes. I've been in contact with him. I've even said that if the Firm doesn't help me, I'll open up my security blanket."
Pat's eyes widened.
"Wow, that's big boys' stuff! You really are in heavy shit. What did Simmonds have to say to that?"
His shoulders went into a slow roll as he laughed through a mouthful.
I went on for another fifteen minutes. At the end of it Pat said, "Do you think that PIRA might have dropped Kev?" He had finished his sub and was now picking at mine. He made it clear he wanted a few bites. I pushed it over.
"Who the fuck knows? I don't know, I really don't know. I can't see it myself. Can you make any sense of it?"
"The buzz around D.C. was that there was some American involvement in Gibraltar in 'eighty-eight." He was picking the pickles and tomatoes out of my sub.
"What sort of involvement?"
"I don't know. It's got something to do with the Irish American vote, all that sort of shit. And PIRA gearing up funds from Noraid by getting into the drug market."
I wondered how Pat knew. Maybe that was where he got his supply? The thought made me sad.
My mind ticked over a bit more. Pat just kept on attacking my sub.
"Maybe that's where the connection with Kev comes in," I said.
"DEA, drugs what do you think?"
"Maybe. The Brits have been giving the Americans a hard time for years over Noraid giving money to PIRA, but the Yanks can't fuck around with all those millions of Irish American votes."
I sat back and studied his face.
"Go on."
"I've heard that PIRA buys cocaine and gears it up once they get it out of the US. It's been going the rounds for years there's nothing new in that. But maybe it's a starting point for you. I mean, fucking hell, you're the brainy one, not me."
It made sense; if you've got some money and you're a terrorist organization, of course you're going to buy drugs, sell them, and make a profit. And there was no way the Americans were going to attack Noraid; it would be political suicide but if Noraid could be shown to be linked with drug trafficking, that was something else. Maybe Kev was working against PIRA and got killed by them.
I said, "Do you reckon Kev might have come across some shit? Or maybe he was even part of it, and got fucked over?"
"I haven't got a clue, mate. Stuff like that gives me a headache." He paused.
"So tell me, what do you need?"
I shrugged.
"Cash."
He stopped eating my sub and got out his wallet. He handed me an ATM card and told me his number.
"There's about three thousand dollars in there," he said.
"It's a savings account, so you can draw out as much as you need. What about Kev's girl? What's the score?"
"She's all right, mate. I've got her."
If Pat was setting me up, at least I was sending a message that I was aware of that possibility and taking precautions.
I said, "Thanks very much for this, mate for the ATM card, and just for being here." With friendships like this you didn't have to write a letter every week. I knew that he would help me out, but I didn't want him to think I was taking him for granted.
I said, "Look, I'm not going to get you in trouble. I won't compromise you, but there is something else I need. Is there any chance of you phoning me sometime tonight? I need to sit down and think about what I've got to do."
"About nine-thirty?"
I smiled. Then all of a sudden I had my second brainstorm of the day.
"You don't know any Sinn Fein or PIRA locations in D.C.?"
"No, but I can find out. What are you thinking?"
"I need to see if there's a connection between PIRA and the people who are trying to zap me and who maybe dropped Kev. If I can check who comes in and out of a location, well, it's a start. If it came to anything, maybe I'd go in and have a look around."
Pat demolished the last of my sub.
"Be careful, mate.
Don't get fucked over."
"I won't. Right, I'll stay here I'll give you ten minutes and then I'll leave. The mobile will be switched on from nine twenty-five."
"No drama; we'll talk. Be lucky."
As he got up, he picked at the fragments of cheese and meat at the bottom of the basket. I went back into the mall via Sears, found an ATM, and drew out three hundred dollars.