Free Remote Control by Andy McNab Page B

way, it was obvious that the junctions that would lead us round to the front of the hotel were miles away. I decided to take a short cut. The traffic was busy and the road system hadn’t been designed for people on foot. With the number of lanes and volume of traffic, it was like crossing a motorway in the UK, but at least there were traffic lights slowing the vehicles and creating gaps. I gripped Kelly’s hand as we dodged to the central reservation and waited for another gap. I looked up at the sky; it was very overcast; rain couldn’t be far away.
    Drivers, who had probably never seen pedestrians before, hooted furiously, but we made it to the other side and scrambled over small railings onto the sidewalk. More or less directly in front of us was a gap between two office buildings. We went through and crossed a short stretch of waste ground that brought us into the hotel car park. As we walked past the lines of vehicles I memorized the sequence of letters and numbers for a Virginia plate.
    The Best Western was a large, four-storey rectangle, the architecture very 1980s. Every elevation was concrete and painted a sickly off-yellow. As we walked up to the reception area I tried to look inside. I didn’t want them to see us coming from the direction of the car park, because it would be odd to walk all that way without first checking that they could take us, and then unloading our bags. I hoped Kelly would stay silent when we were inside; I just wanted to do the business and walk out again as if we were going to see Mummy back in the car.
    Inside the lobby I got hold of her and whispered, ‘You just sit there. I’m going to get us a room.’ I gave her a tourist freebie that was lying on one of the chairs, but she ignored it.
    In one corner, by the coffee percolator and cream, was a large TV. A football game was on. I went over to the receptionist, a woman in her mid-forties who thought she was still twenty-four, who was watching the screen and probably fancying her chances with one of the quarterbacks.
    All smiles, I said, ‘I need a family room just for one night, please.’
    ‘Certainly, sir,’ she said, a graduate with honours from Best Western’s charm school. ‘If you’d like to fill out this card.’
    As I started to scribble I said, ‘How much is a room anyway?’
    ‘That’s sixty-four dollars, plus tax.’
    I raised an eyebrow to make it look as if that was a lot of money to a family man like myself.
    ‘I know,’ she smiled. ‘I’m sorry about that.’
    She took my credit card to swipe and I filled in the form with crap. I’d been doing this for donkey’s years, lying on hotel forms, looking relaxed as I wrote, but in fact scanning about four questions ahead. I filled in a car reg, too, and, for number of occupants, put two adults and a child.
    She handed back my card. ‘There you are, Mr Stamford, it’s room 224. Where’s your car?’
    ‘Just around the corner.’ I pointed vaguely to the rear of the hotel.
    ‘OK, if you park by the stairs where you see the Coke and ice machines, turn left at the top of the stairs and you’ll see room 224 on the left-hand side. You have a nice day now!’
    I could have described the room even before I ran the key card through the lock and opened the door – a TV, two double beds, a couple of chairs and the typical American hotel designer’s obsession with dark wood veneers.
    I wanted to get Kelly settled quickly so I could use the phone. I pressed the remote and flicked through the channels, hoping to find Nickelodeon. Eventually I found some cartoons. ‘I remember this one, it’s good – shall we watch it?’
    She sat on the bed, staring at me. The expression on her face said she didn’t like this outing too much and I could understand that.
    ‘Kelly,’ I said, ‘I’m going to leave you for just a couple of minutes because I’ve got to make a phone call. I’ll get a drink while I’m out. What would you like? Coke? Mountain Dew? Or do you want