I dialed 911, and about three seconds later Kelly was shouting, "Yes, I've just seen a man! I've just seen a man on the second floor, eleven twenty-one Twenty-seventh Street and and he's got a gun and the man's shot, and and and he's got a gun please help!"
I put my hand on the hook.
"Good one! Now, shall we go and see what happens next?"
I picked a different route back. This time we were going to approach from the top of the hill and walk down toward the apartment building. By now it was properly dark, and still very wet. Heads bent in the rain, we made it to Twenty-seventh Street, turned right, and started walking slowly down the hill.
I heard its siren first, louder and louder, then the flash of its emergency lights as a police cruiser sped past us. Then I saw other blue and red lights, all flashing in the darkness in the area of the apartment.
As we got closer I made out three police cars. An unmarked car turned up, a portable light flashing on the roof, just above the driver.
We walked farther down and came to a bus stop. All I was doing was watching and waiting--much like everybody else--as a small crowd had gathered.
"Are they all coming for Pat?" Kelly asked.
I was too busy feeling depressed to answer; the sight of an ambulance arriving had pole axed me. I stroked her head over her coat hood.
"I'll tell you about it in a minute. Just let me watch what's happening."
A quarter of an hour went by. Local TV news crews were in sight. I then saw them come out: two guys with a gurney, and on top was a corpse in a body bag. I didn't have to see the face to know who was inside. I only hoped it had been quick for him, but judging by the condition of the Browns I had a terrible feeling that it hadn't.
I said quietly, "We're going to go now, Kelly. Pat's not there tonight."
I felt as if my most treasured possession had been stolen from under my nose, and I knew that I'd never get it back. Our friendship had been rekindled after all these years, and this was the price Pat had paid for it. I felt lost and desperate, as if I'd got detached from the rest of my patrol in hostile territory, without a map, or a weapon, and no hint of which way to go.
He was a true friend. I would miss the man with no ass.
As Pat was being loaded into the ambulance, I forced myself to cut away from the emotion. I turned and started to walk back down the way we'd come, to avoid the police. One of the cars had now left with its siren going and the ambulance was just about to. I imagined the crime scene people inside the apartment, putting on their coveralls and unpacking their gear. Again I tried to make myself look at the situation logically. Pat was gone; now all I had left was Euan.
We took the first left to get off the main drag, and I listened as the ambulance siren twice went off to maneuver through traffic.
We kept going along the road. It wasn't a main thoroughfare;
it was residential on both sides, large houses with wide stone staircases leading up to the front doors.
I had Kelly's hand. We were walking without talking.
Feelings about Pat had no place in my mind at the moment.
What mattered was what information about us he could have given to whoever had zapped him. PIRA or Luther and Co." who could tell? It had to be one or the other. If it was connected with me, of course. Fuck knows what else he could have been up to. However, I had to work on the basis that whoever killed him wanted to know where we were. All Pat knew was the phone number, and that I was going into the PIRA office. OP SEC operational security might have saved our lives.
I was thinking so hard that at first the voice didn't really register. Then I thought it was Kelly, so I was going to give her hand a bit of a squeeze and tell her to be quiet and let me think. But then it spoke again, a man's voice, low, resolute, and this time there was no mistaking the words.
"Freeze. If you move, I'll kill you. Stay exactly where you are. Do not move."
It wasn't a druggy voice, it wasn't a young nervous voice;
it was a voice that was in total control. I kept my hands where they were.
Kelly flung her arms around my waist.
"It's OK, it's all right. They aren't going to hurt you," I lied like a cheap watch.
His footsteps moved from behind me and to the left. He must have come from the service alley that ran behind the houses we'd just passed.
He said, "You have two choices. Get smart by keeping still.
Get dead by moving." The voice was late twenties, early thirties, precise, well drilled.
It was pointless trying to draw on him. He would kill me the instant I made a move.
I decided to take choice one.
More footsteps came from the other side, and somebody was tugging Kelly away. She cried out, "Nick! Nick!" but I couldn't help. Her grip was no match for theirs. She was dragged behind me and out of sight. I still couldn't see anything of the guys who'd caught us. I made myself calm down and accept what was happening.
The voice started to give me commands in the same no-nonsense, almost pleasant voice. He said, "I want you to raise your hands slowly, and put them on top of your head. Do that now."
When I'd complied, he said, "Now turn around."
I turned and saw a short, dark-haired man aiming a pistol at me in a very professional manner. He was standing about ten yards away at the entrance to the alley. He was breathing heavily, probably after running around the streets to find us both. He was wearing a suit, and I saw Velcro. I now knew who had gotten to Pat.
"Walk toward me. Do it now."
I couldn't see Kelly. She must have already been taken down the alley. They had got her at last. I pictured Aida's savaged little body as I came toward him.
"Stop. Turn left." Very low, very calm and confident. As he said it, I heard a car pull up to my right, and out of the corner of my eye I could see it was the blue Caprice from the first motel.
"Walk." I moved into the alley. Still no sign of Kelly.
I heard, "Get on your knees."
I knelt down. I'd never been particularly worried about dying; we've all got to check out sometime. When it did happen I just wanted it to be nice and quick. I'd always hoped there was an afterlife, but not as reincarnation back on Earth.
I'd hate to find myself back here as something low down the food chain. But I wouldn't mind a spiritual thing where you just become aware of everything from the truth about the creation of humankind to the recipe for Coca-Cola. I'd always known I was going to die early, but this was just a bit too early.
Nothing was happening and nothing was said. Then what must have been that Caprice drove into the alley behind me, its headlights illuminating the rears of the houses. Each had facing garages and three or four cars parked along the sides of the alley. I could see my kneeling shadow against the wet asphalt.
The engine was still running, and I heard the doors being opened. There was radio traffic from a different voice;
this one had an accent that should have been selling hot dogs in New York. He was giving a location.
"Affirmative, we're in the service road for Dent and Avon. We are on the south side. You'll see our lights. Affirmative, we have both of them."
I stayed on my knees with my hands on my head in the rain while we waited for the others to arrive. I heard footsteps coming toward me from the car. I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes, expecting to be given the good news. They walked slightly past me to my right and stopped.
I didn't hear the second one come up behind me. I just felt a heavy hand grip my own firmly on my head as the other felt for my weapon. The hand pulled out the Sig, and in front of my face I watched him check the safety catch as he released his grip on my hands and, in the same movement, produced a clear plastic bag. I could smell coffee on his slightly labored breath.
Nothing happened for a moment or two, apart from the rustling of the bag behind me. Into view on my right came a man who looked a bit like a fashion seeker, dressed in a black suit with a mandarin jacket. Fuck me, it was Mr. Armani. He was maybe late twenties, very clean-cut, and dark and smooth. He probably glided over the ground so his shoes never got wet. He was covering me.