Deep Black - Andy McNab [22]
He opened a box containing reams of contact sheets and photographs, all carefully protected in plastic sleeves.
‘You’ve been busy.’
‘And then some. See what you think.’
He went into the kitchen, leaving me to it.
Jerry really had come a long way since the days he carried his mum’s birthday present round his neck. He’d covered everything from the wars in Ethiopia and the refugee camps in Gaza to the Pope weeping in what looked like a South American slum.
Jerry clattered away in the kitchen as I held contact sheet after contact sheet up to the light.
When the serving hatch opened and a tray of percolated coffee and mugs appeared, I held up a laminated front page of the New York Times. ‘This Sudan picture one of yours?’
A tiny starving girl, no more than a bag of bones really, hunched naked in the dirt. Behind her, watching her every move, stood a vulture. It wasn’t just the picture that was fucked up. Beside it was an ad for a multi-thousand-dollar Cartier watch.
Jerry leaned through the hatch. ‘I wish. It’s one of Kevin Carter’s. He’s dead now. He won a Pulitzer for it.’
As I stood to collect the tray, a key turned in the lock.
‘They’re back.’ For the first time, he sounded just a little bit anxious.
I let him get on with family stuff and went over to the sofa, dumping the brew on a packing case. I could see into the corridor.
Renee wore jeans and a long, thick, hairy nylon coat, a sort of bluey-green colour. She shushed him as he went to kiss her. Chloë was asleep. As Jerry started to unstrap the baby from the stroller, she shrugged off the coat and came towards me. Her smile broadened but she kept her voice low. ‘Well, hello!’ She had a happy, homely face on a small skinny body. Her brown hair was gathered at the neck, and she wasn’t wearing makeup. ‘I’m Renee.’ She held out her hand. It was soft and stained with paint.
I hoped the fumes cancelled out the stench of margarine I carried around with me, and put on a big smile of my own. ‘I know, he’s told me all about you.’ It was a corny thing to say, but I didn’t know what else you did in these situations. ‘I’m Nick.’
‘I know all about you, too. The guy who saved Jerry’s life in Bosnia.’
She led me proudly over to the carrycot as Jerry gently placed the baby in it and disappeared back into the kitchen. ‘And this is Chloë.’ I looked down but couldn’t see much. She had a woolly hat on and was up to her ears in duvet.
The pain in my chest had disappeared as we drove here. Now it was replaced by a different feeling. Maybe it was jealousy. They had everything I thought I wanted.
It seemed time to whisper a few of the right noises. ‘Aww – she’s beautiful, isn’t she?’
Renee leaned into the carrycot, her eyes fixed on the sleeping face. ‘Isn’t she just?’
We settled down with the coffee and she apologized for the mess. ‘We keep meaning to get a table.’
I thought I’d better make an effort before I took the first opportunity to get through that front door and out of there. I gestured towards the packing case and smiled. ‘Last place I moved into, I had one of those. I got to rather like it.’
Jerry joined us with another mug.
‘So what do you think of DC?’ I said. ‘A bit different from Buffalo . . .’
‘It’s fine.’ She didn’t sound too convinced. ‘Maybe in another month or two we’ll get sorted out, and Jerry will get the job he’s after at the Post.’
She passed me a black coffee. Her lip had started to quiver. I sensed there was tension in the air. ‘But he’s going off on one more crazy trip before that . . .’
Jerry was doing his best not to look her in the eye.
Whatever was going on here, I wanted nothing to do with it. This was my opportunity. ‘I’m sorry.’ I tried a sip and put the mug down. The coffee was too hot. ‘I really should be going. I was a bit tight for time anyway when I bumped into Jerry.’
He had other ideas. ‘Come on, Nick, stay a little longer. Chloë will be awake soon and maybe we could all go for something to eat.’
‘No, really, I—’
Renee looked up at me. ‘We’ve made