3
A few seconds of fuzzy, black-and-white CCTV footage flashed up, at the point where I’d turned back to the house after dropping Red Eyes.
They reran it, then freeze-framed on my face. The image was blurred, but they made up for that by cutting to an artist’s impression. It was the first drawing anyone had ever done of me, and I wished they hadn’t.
The next CCTV clip showed us both masked up as I got into the Audi and Charlie opened the gate. So it was official. I was in the shit. It didn’t matter if they were calling me Baz’s killer, or Red Eyes, or even all three of us. They had a face and were looking for it.
Head down, I made my way across the road to the terminal and the endless check-in queue. I found Charlie and got eye to eye. As I walked away, he followed.
I headed for the toilets. I stood at a urinal and Charlie took the one next to me. All the cubicle doors were open; we were alone.
‘It’s hit the news. You’re OK, but they got my face.’
Charlie wasn’t fazed. ‘What we going to do?’
‘We’re doing nothing, mate. You’re going to catch the flight. I can’t risk it – even if I make it airside, what if I get pinged? There’s TVs in there, mate. I’m better off staying landside. Maybe I’ll try for Turkey by road.’
There was no hesitation from him. ‘I’ll hire a car. We’ll get to the border by tonight, dump the car, and walk across. Piece of piss. Let’s go.’
He started to move but I grabbed his arm. ‘I don’t need your f*cking hands disco-dancing all over the country. Besides, they even check what you look at online. For sure they’ll be checking car hire, and will be asking questions before you get the key in the door. Too risky. Take the papers, get the flight, get to Crazy Dave, and stand by. As soon as I get into Turkey I’ll give you a call and see you in H. I think we can still get you the rest of the money.’
Charlie wasn’t listening. ‘Wait here.’ He shoved his laptop bag at me. ‘Bung the tape and papers in here. Just in case you get lifted, at least I might have something here that’ll get you out the shit. Follow me, lad.’
He turned and walked out of the toilet, striding towards the terminal exit as I shoved everything in the bag, like a fumbling PA following in the wake of his boss.
Why couldn’t he just do what he was told for once? I got up level with him.
‘F*ck it, Charlie, just get the flight. I got an idea how to get your cash, it might even get me out of the shit as well.’
He still wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on the glass exit doors. ‘We’re wasting time, lad. Once we’re out of here we can worry about money. But for now, just shut the f*ck up and follow.’
We walked out of the terminal. ‘Wait here.’ Charlie carried on straight towards a young guy in a blue sweatshirt, sitting at the wheel of the 110.
Charlie had his serious, purposeful warrant officer face on as he marched up to the vehicle. The driver, a young white guy with a crew cut, watched him all the way to his window. A green, heavy-plastic sleeve lay on the dash. It was the 110’s work ticket folder, a log of the hours and mileage done, and had DUTY VEHICLE stencilled across it.
Charlie tapped on the glass and motioned him to wind it down.
‘Duty driver? You dropping off or picking up?’ Charlie spoke like he was giving the guy a bollocking for having done something wrong. Soldiers tend to react better to that tone of voice, because nine times out of ten they have.
‘Dropping off.’
Charlie exploded. ‘Dropping off, SIR! What camp you from, son?’ He turned and pointed at me. ‘Stay where you are! I haven’t told you to go anywhere. Bring my bag here.’
I jerked my head. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well, bring it here, man. At least be of some use. I don’t know who I’m even handing it over to. What the f*ck is wrong with this man’s army?’
I joined him and handed over the bag. Charlie made a show of looking for papers in the side pocket, eventually back to the driver. ‘What camp are you from?’
‘Camp Vasiani, sir.’
‘That the only camp in this area?’
‘Yessir.’
‘That’s where we’re going then.’
Charlie bounced back to me, still in bollocking mode. ‘Why weren’t any joining instructions sent to me?’
‘I don’t know, sir,’ I said. ‘I sent an email requesting—’
‘Not good enough.’ Charlie was in full flow now. ‘Why isn’t there anyone here to pick us up?’
‘I . . . I don’t know, sir.’
‘You don’t know, sir? Oh, is that so?’ Charlie opened the rear door, slotted in the laptop and pointed at me. ‘In!’
I saw it now. Charlie wanted me in the front because we were going to do a bit of hijacking.
He glowered at the driver as I got into the front passenger seat. ‘How far to camp?’
‘Just under an hour, sir. But I have to get permission to—’
Charlie’s hand told him to shut up. ‘Just drive. The flights are all leaving now; you’re leaving nobody behind. We’ll sort it out on the way. Can’t your f*cking officers even organize a pick-up?’
He jumped into the back as the duty driver leaned across and flicked a switch on his radio, a small green thing tucked into the dash.
Charlie was quick off the mark. ‘Just get going, I don’t need to talk to anyone. No-one seems to know what day of the week it is anyway.’
The driver was flapping as he leaned back towards Charlie. ‘But, sir, I gotta call in when I leave, and I gotta tell them if I dropped off OK. It’s a standing order.’
There was no way we could stop him; it all had to appear routine. After all, Charlie was the one moaning about inefficiency. He was hardly the sort of man who would break a standing order.
‘Well, get on with it then. Let’s go.’
The driver started up the 110 and we left the airport perimeter. Charlie gave me a wink as he waited for the boy to finish speaking into the boom-mike headset.
‘That’s right. Two pax for our locale. But no work sheet?’
He shrugged at whatever was being said in response.
Charlie’s hand loomed over the driver’s shoulder. ‘Give me that.’
He barked into the headset. ‘Who is this?’ There was a pause. ‘Well, Sergeant Jay DiRita, I did not receive any joining instructions, not even the name of the person I have come all the way from Istanbul to see!’
Charlie listened to DiRita. ‘Oh, is that so? You don’t have any visitors scheduled for today? Well, Sergeant DiRita, now you do. We will be there soon to try to make sense of this total cock-up.’
He passed the headset forward to the driver and sat fuming out of the window.
I looked out at the parrot-coloured apartment blocks lining the dual carriageway, and hoped we got out in the cuds soon, so we could bin the driver and head for that border.
I scanned the dashboard. ‘Got a map?’