Authors: Andy McNab
Remote Control (37 page)
I had surveillance on the target car. My wipers were on quick time as the trucks and cars splashed more water onto the windscreen than the rain itself. I put the demister on full blast. The driver’s leaking blood and my own sweating body were misting up the car big-time.
A freeway was perfect for my purposes; I could just drive along and even allow a bit of distance to develop, to the point of letting another car get in between me and the target. As an exit came up I’d just get a little bit closer; if he was going to turn off I could then filter in naturally and come up behind him.
After about another five minutes I saw a sign saying ‘Lorton 1 mile’. They started to indicate that they were getting into the filter lane to take the off-ramp. They weren’t going to Quantico after all. There was no time to think about that; this was the time to hit them. I glanced down, changed mags and checked chamber.
As I came across to get in lane, I realized for the first time that we were driving through heavily wooded terrain. The tyres throbbed rhythmically as they hit the joints in the concrete freeway.
By now the driver had slumped completely into the footwell, with his back against the door. It was only the body armour under his shirt that gave him posture. He was dead.
I was now in the filter lane and just 20 metres behind their vehicle, close enough to be on top of them, but far enough away so that, if they looked behind, they’d just see headlights. I saw no heads turning round; they weren’t looking aware. I started to take deep breaths and spark myself up.
The Lorton exit ramp was a slight uphill with a gentle right-hand bend. The tall trees each side gave the impression of a tunnel. I planned to do it at the first junction. My brain was in overdrive, getting me into a mindset, trying to take the fear away.
I could see traffic lights in the middle distance and put my foot on the gas to close up even more. Their brake lights came on, then their right-hand indicator. A truck thundered past from left to right. It looked like it was a wide major road ahead. The car started its right turn. Pushing myself back into the seat, I put my foot down hard on the accelerator and braced my arms on the wheel.
I must have been doing about forty-five m.p. H. and was still accelerating as I drew level and yanked the wheel hard right. My right wing hit the front of theirs. There was a massive jolt. My air bag exploded as the car slewed round into the main drag. The other car spun sideways. I heard glass shattering and the screech of tortured rubber.
The moment the vehicle came to a halt I stabbed at the seat belt release and opened the door. The air felt freezing. At first all I could hear was the hiss of the radiator and the
ping ping ping
warning that the door was open and the lights on; then came the sound of muffled shouts from inside the other vehicle.
ping ping ping
warning that the door was open and the lights on; then came the sound of muffled shouts from inside the other vehicle.
The first priority was the driver. The car had to be immobilized. He was still fighting his seat belt. I fired through the windscreen. I didn’t know where I hit him, but he was down. As I looked into the back I could see Kelly, or at least her shape. She was low down in the footwell, hands over her ears.
Luther was getting his first rounds down on me. His door was half open and he was starting to roll out. I’d have been doing the same because a car draws fire – so get out of the way. As he rolled I kept on firing, just below the level of the door. He screamed. I’d got him. I couldn’t tell whether it was a direct hit or the splash of the round off the tarmac, but it didn’t matter, the effect was the same.
I moved from behind the bonnet of my car to take on the third guy. He was out now but had had a change of heart. He put his hands up and yelled, ‘Don’t do it, don’t do it!’ His eyes were like saucers. I double-tapped him in the head.
Kelly was still curled up in a ball in the footwell. She wasn’t going anywhere.
I searched the two bodies for wallets and magazines. I left Luther for last.
He was on the ground behind his car, hands clutched to his chest. ‘Help me . . . help me . . . please . . .’
He’d taken a round in the armpit as he rolled on the floor and it must have carried on into his chest cavity. I thought of Kev, Marsha and Aida, and kicked. He opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle. He was on his way out. Good. Let it happen slowly.
I ran back for Kelly and lifted her out of her hiding place. I had to shout at her above her screams. ‘It’s OK, Kelly. I’m here, it’s OK.’
I held her tight in my arms. She was nearly deafening me.
‘It’s all over now! It’s OK!’
It wasn’t.
The police would be here soon. I looked around me. The junction was with a trunk road, two lanes in each direction. To my left and downhill was the I-95, crossing the road by a bridge, with a Texaco gas station about 400 metres away on the other side of it on the right. Uphill and about the same distance away was a Best Western hotel cutting the skyline.
Lights were coming from the exit road towards us. Luther was lying there softly moaning to himself. He wasn’t dead, but it wouldn’t be long. The lights came closer.
Kelly was still hysterical. Grabbing her to conceal my pistol, I went behind the two cars. The lights were nearly level with us. I moved out and waved the vehicle down.
The good Samaritans were in a Toyota Previa, man and wife in the front, two kids in the back. I played the traumatized victim for all I was worth, shouting, ‘Help! Help!’ as I rushed to the driver’s side. The woman was at the wheel; she opened her door. ‘Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!’ Her husband already had his mobile out for an ambulance.
I put the safety catch on and held the gun against her face. ‘Everybody out now! Get out, get out now!’ My other arm was windmilling like a madman’s. Hopefully they’d think I was one. ‘Get out! I’ll fucking kill you! Get out!’
The one thing I did know about families is that no-one will risk theirs. The husband started to lose it. ‘Please don’t,’ he whimpered, ‘please don’t!’ Then he started to cry.
Kelly had quietened down, listening to my act.
It was the mother who kept her cool. ‘OK, we are getting out. Dean, get the kids out. Out!’
Dean got his act together. I yelled at him, ‘Throw your wallet back inside!’
I bundled Kelly through the sliding door, slammed it shut, ran round to the driver’s side, climbed up and we were off.
I wanted to get away from the initial danger area, then sort myself out. The freeway was out because it would be too easy for the police to pick me up. I drove up onto the junction and turned left under the freeway bridge, past the garage. The road became a normal two-lane carriageway and I put my foot down.
This was no time to explain stuff to Kelly. She was curled up on the back seat, sobbing. My adrenalin rush was slowing down, but my face was soaked with sweat and I was lathering up. I took deep breaths, trying to get more oxygen into my body and calm everything down. I felt unbelievably angry with myself for losing control back there. I should have killed Luther straight away, not fucked about.
I realized we were heading south, away from the airport. I’d have to stop and sort myself out instead of just running in a blind panic. I pulled over and checked the map book. Kelly didn’t look good, but I didn’t have too much of a clue what to say to comfort her. ‘I told you I was going to look after you,’ I tried. ‘Are you OK?’
She looked up at me and nodded, her bottom lip quivering.
I made a decision. Fuck it, let’s just go straight to the hotel, get the back-up disk and clear off. I swung the Previa around in a U-turn, heading for the freeway. We stayed on it until we hit the Beltway.
Blue lights flickered towards us. There must have been ten of them. I wasn’t worried. Even if they did ID me they’d have to get across the central reservation.
It took us just under an hour to get to the Economy Inn. We drove straight into the car park and I told Kelly to wait where she was. If she did hear me, there was no reaction. I tried again and got a nod.
I went upstairs, got out my pistol and made entry. I pulled the cabinet onto its side, the TV crashing onto the floor, and ripped the disk away from the tape. If Luther and co were connected with PIRA, they must know I had a disk – they had to assume it anyway. Retrieving the black bag, I went into the bathroom and threw two hand towels into the bath and ran the water. While that was happening I got the plastic laundry bag from the drawer. I put in the wet towels and some soap. I walked out of the room and kept the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle.
Kelly was still curled up on the back seat. We drove straight down the road to the Marriott.
30
I parked up alongside a line of cars and pick-up trucks and moved round to the back to dig out the towels. The moment I opened the door Kelly ambushed me, throwing her arms around my neck and clinging on hard. Her whole body was shaking.
I lifted her head off my shoulder. Blood from the boy I’d head-jobbed had gone over my jacket, and now some of it was on her face, too, mixing with her tears. I whispered in her ear, ‘It’s OK now, Kelly, really it is. It’s all over.’
She held on even harder. Her tears were warm and wet on my neck.
I said, ‘I’ve got to go and get another car, so I want you to stay here. I won’t be long.’
I started to lift her away from me to put her back on the seat, but she resisted, burying her face in my shoulder. I could feel the heat of her breath through the material of my jacket.
I put my hand on the back of her head and rocked gently. For a moment I didn’t know who was clinging to whom. The idea of what was happening and who might be behind it scared me shitless. I had to confirm with Kelly what Luther had said, and now was as bad a time as any. ‘Kelly, do you know Luther? Was it true what he said about him coming to pick up Daddy?’
I felt her head nod slowly against my shoulder.
‘I’ll never leave you alone again, Kelly. Let’s just clean ourselves up a bit, shall we?’
I tried to sound happy as I used one of the wet hand towels to wipe her face. ‘If you’re going to come with me I’d better give you a really important job. I want you to look after the bag while I go and get a car, OK?’
‘OK.’
As she dried herself I checked the wallets. Just over two hundred dollars in all.
The car park surrounded the whole hotel and was lit only by borrowed light from the street. The area dividers that made it easier for people to find their cars were waist-high bushes and shrubs, with small trees around the main perimeter. There was plenty of shadow.
I positioned Kelly in a clump of shrubbery with the bag. ‘Stay hiding until I stop the car and get out to fetch the bag, OK?’
‘Will I be able to see you?’ she whispered as she put up her hood. Her coat was already wet from the leaves. ‘I want to see you.’
I had my eye on a family Dodge in the long lines of cars. I said, ‘See that big blue car over there? That’s the one I’m going to pick up.’ I didn’t actually want to tell her I was going to steal it, which seemed mad after what had just happened.
It took about five minutes to break in, but the vehicle started first time. I put the windscreen wipers and demister on full, wiping the inside of the screen with my sleeve. I reversed back to the bushes, stopped and got out. She climbed into the front with a big smile and we started driving off. I stopped. ‘Seat belt!’
She put it on.
We headed south on I-95. About twenty miles before the Lorton exit we came across temporary traffic signs warning us that the junction was closed off. As we crossed the bridge I looked down to my right and got a bird’s eye view of the shooting. Police cars were dotted all over the area, red and blue lights flashing. I didn’t slow down with the rest of the traffic to take a closer look.
The fuel gauge showed three-quarters full, so we’d be able to gain a decent distance before refuelling. I turned on the radio, surfing the channels to find some news.
There was quite a lot of traffic, which was good because it made us just one of many, but the highway itself was mesmerizingly boring. The only variant was that sometimes it was two lanes, then three, then back to two. At least it had stopped raining.
After a hundred miles or so I was knackered and my eyes were starting to sting. I stopped for fuel just over the Virginia/North Carolina border and carried on south. Kelly was asleep in the back.
By 1 a.m. we had travelled about one hundred and seventy miles, but at least the speed limit was higher, up from 60 m.p. H. to 70. I kept seeing large billboards featuring a cartoon of a Mexican, advertising a place called South of the Border. That would be our next stop – in 200 miles’ time.
We crossed the South Carolina border at about five a.m. South of the Border was just a mile or two further down the road and turned out to be a mixture of a service area and funfair. It was probably a great hit with families going to and from the beaches of North and South Carolina, covering a huge area and including beachwear shops, grocery stores, drugstores, even a bar with dancing. It looked as if it was still open, going by the number of cars parked outside.
I started to refuel. The weather was only a little bit warmer than in DC, but I could hear crickets; I definitely knew I was going south. I was still standing there watching the numbers spin on the pump when a brand-new four-wheel-drive Cherokee rolled onto the forecourt. Rap music blasted out as the doors opened. Inside were four white kids of college age, two boys and two girls.
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