Another set of doors took me into the main ticketing and train area. The place was heaving; half of the USA must have been on the move. Even the air-conditioning was finding it too much: the combination of heat and humidity from the people made it feel like a greenhouse. I joined the packed crowds slowly shuffling up to the top floor.
He was in line at the coffee shop, about three or four people ahead of him. Very hale and hearty, I went over and slapped him on the back.
"Pat! What are you doing here?"
Reciprocating my big smile, he said, "I'm here to meet somebody." His pupils were as big as saucers.
"Me, too. You got time for a Mickey D's?"
"Yeah, yeah, why not?"
We started to walk beyond the coffee shop, following exit signs through automatic doors, and took the escalator up to the multi story parking garage.
Pat was a step or two above. He looked down at me, puzzled.
"What the fuck's a Mickey D's?"
"McDonald's," I said, as if he should have known. But then he didn't have a seven-year-old on his case day and night.
"Come on, Pat, get with the program!"
He started to do a Michael Jackson moon dance
By now we were nearly at the bus station level. I said, "If there's a drama, I'm going to the bus station area, turning right and out an exit."
"Fine. No problem!" He sounded OK but looked like shit.
The cars were on the two levels above. We walked up the bare concrete stairs, stopped at the first level, and got into a position that looked back the way we had come.
I didn't have time to fuck around.
"Two things, mate. I've got a list here I didn't fancy reading to you over the phone." I passed it over.
"I need all that stuff. And the other thing what's the score on the money?"
He was already looking at the small notebook I'd handed him. Either he was amazed at the contents or he couldn't focus. Without looking up he said, "I got some money for you today. But fucking hell, most of it's going to be used up on this stuff. I'll be able to get you some more, probably to morrow or the day after. Fuck me." He shook his head.
"When do you want all this by?" He then started to giggle as if he'd just cracked a joke in his head and wasn't going to share it with me.
"Actually, tonight, mate. You think you can do it, or what?"
I moved my head to get eye-to-eye with him.
The giggle became a laugh until he saw me looking serious. He cleared his throat and tried to switch on.
"I'll do my best, mate. I'll see what I can get on this list."
"I'd really fucking appreciate it," I said.
"Don't let me down. Pat. I really need your help." I hoped the urgency was going to register with him. I was still checking down the stairs.
"Also at the back there" I opened the page for him to make sure he saw it "I've put a casual pickup I need that to happen at 2300 tonight."
Pat was looking at the RV notes. I bent my knees to lower myself and moved his face over so I could get eye-to-eye again.
"Eleven o'clock tonight, mate, eleven o'clock, OK?"
I knew Pat well enough to tell he knew it was serious. He knew he was fucked up and was trying hard to understand everything I said.
I was glad now that I'd put the details down on paper for him. He looked as if he needed all the help he could get.
"What do you drive?" I asked.
"A red Mustang." He pushed his face closer to mine.
"Redder than Satan's balls!" He enjoyed the joke so much he couldn't help laughing.
"Leave via H Street." I pointed away from the rear of the station.
"See you tonight then." He smiled, moving off. From behind I could see a slight veer to the left as he walked.
I waited and checked he wasn't being followed, then went on up toward the parking level, making it look as if I were off to my car. From there I took the elevator back down to the coffee shop.
I went back toward the restaurant, stood off, and watched.
Kelly was still struggling with the pizza.
"What took you so long?" she said through a mouthful of mushrooms.
"They ran out of toilet paper." I laughed as I rejoined her.
She thought about it a moment and did the same. As soon as we got back to the hotel I put the TV on for Kelly and dumped out the shopping bags on my bed. She asked me what I was doing.
"I'm just helping Pat. You can watch the TV if you want.
You hungry?"
"No." She was right; after a pizza the size of a tank mine, it was a stupid question.
I picked up the big red-and-white-framed quartz kitchen clock and sat in the chair by the window. I broke off the frame until I was left with just the hands and clock face with the quartz mechanics behind it. By bending it very gently, I now started to break off the plastic face. When there was just about an inch of jagged remains around the center of the hands, I finally snapped off the hour and second hands. Only the minute hand was left. I put in a new battery.
Kelly was watching.
"Now what are you doing. Nick?"
"It's a trick. Once I've finished I'll show you, OK?"
"OK." She turned back to the TV, but with one eye on me.
I took the egg carton over to the wastebasket and tipped out its contents. I ripped off the top and half of the bottom so that there were just six compartments left. With Scotch tape I fashioned a small sleeve running all the way up the side of the carton, just big enough to accommodate the minute hand. I called over to Kelly, who was humming the theme to a soap.
"Do you want to see what this does?"
She looked intrigued as I slotted the carton onto the minute hand.
The nightstand was about four inches below the level of the TV's controls. I positioned the clock on it so it was directly below the infrared sensor on the set and secured it in place with gaffer tape.
Kelly was taking even more interest.
"What are you doing?"
"See the remote? Use it to turn the sound up."
She did. "Now turn it down. OK." I bet you that in about fifteen minutes you can't turn the sound up." I joined her on the bed.
"Both of us must sit here and not move, OK?"
"OK." She thought I was going to do something to the remote and smiled as she hid it under the pillow.
It was quite nice really, watching TV during some downtime, apart from every minute hearing, "Is it fifteen minutes yet?"
"No, only seven." By now the egg carton, attached to the minute hand, was working its way up toward the base of the TV.
When the egg carton was upright and obscuring the sensor, I said, "Go on then, try to turn the sound up."
She did, and nothing happened.
"Maybe it's the battery?" I teased.
We put a fresh battery into the remote. Still nothing. She couldn't figure it out, and I wasn't going to explain my trick.
"Magic!" I grinned.
I extracted the rest of the gear, drank some of the orange juice and rinsed out the container, made sure that all the electrical equipment had fresh batteries, and prepared everything to be packed.
It was about 10:20, and Kelly was asleep. I'd have to wake her up and tell her I was going because I didn't want her to get up and start worrying. At times I thought she was just a pain in the neck, but I did want to protect her. She looked so innocent playing starfish again. What would happen to her after all this, I wondered--presuming she survived.
I tested everything again, unplugged the mobile and put it in my pocket, and finally checked my weapon and made sure I had some cash. I picked up a half-empty pack of cookies to eat on the way.
Close to her ear, I whispered, "Kelly!"
I got no response. I shook her a bit. She stirred and I said, "I've put the TV on low so you can watch it if you want--I've got to go out for a couple of minutes."