Her five-year-old head had been nearly severed from her shoulders. There was just three inches of flesh left intact; I could see the vertebrae still holding on.

Turning my head away and looking out of the bathroom, I could now see more of Marsha. I had to hold back my scream. Her dress was hanging normally, but her tights had been torn, her panties were pulled down, and she had soiled herself, probably at the point of death. All I saw at this distance of about fifteen feet was somebody that I really cared for, even loved maybe, on her knees, her blood splattered all over the bed. And she'd had the same done to her as Aida.

I was taking deep breaths and wiping my eyes. I knew I still had another two rooms to clear another bathroom and the large storeroom above the garage. I couldn't give up now because I might wind up getting dropped myself.

I cleared the other rooms and half-collapsed, half-sat on the landing. I could see my bloody footprints all over the carpet.

Stop, calm down, and think.

What next? Kelly. Where the fuck was Kelly?

Then I remembered the hiding place. Because of the threats to Kev, both kids knew where they had to go and hide in the event of a crisis.

The thought brought me to my senses. If that was where Kelly was hiding, she was safe for the time being. Better to leave her there while I did the other stuff I had to do.

I got up and started to move down the stairs, making sure that, as I moved, I had my pistol pointed. As I descended I could see the blood I had left on the wall and carpet where I'd sat. I was almost willing the attackers to appear. I wanted to see the fuckers.

I got a cloth and a trash bag from the kitchen-and started to run around the house wiping door handles and any surfaces where I might have left fingerprints. Then I went over to the patio sliding doors and closed the curtains. I didn't want any body to discover this mess before I was well out of it, hope fully on a plane back to London.

I took a quick look at Kev and knew I was back in control.

He was now just a dead body.

I went back upstairs, washed the blood off my hands and face, and got a clean shirt and a pair of jeans and running shoes from Kev's closet. His clothes didn't fit me, but they would do for now. I bundled my own bloodstained stuff into the trash bag that I'd take with me. Kev had shown me the "hidey-hole," as he called it, built under an open staircase that led up to a little makeshift loft stacked with ladders. The kids knew they had to hide there if ever Kev or Marsha shouted the word "Disneyland!" and they were never ever to come out until Daddy or Mommy came and got them.

I headed to the garage. Pushing the door slightly, I could see the rear of the large metal doors to the right. The garage could easily have taken three extra vehicles besides Kev's company car.

"Fucking thing," I remembered Kev saying, "all the luxury and mod cons of the late nineties, in a car that looks like a nineteen-sixties fridge."

The kids' bikes were hanging from frames on the wall, together with all the other clutter that families accumulate in garages. I could see the red laser dot on the far wall.

I moved in and cleared through. There was no one here.

I went back to the area of the staircase. Chances were she wasn't going to come out unless her mom and dad came for her, but as I moved I started to call out very gently, "Kelly! It's Nick! Hello, Kelly, where are you?"

All the time the pistol was pointing forward, ready to take on any threat.

Moving slowly toward the boxes, I said, "Oh well, since you're not here I'll go. But I think I'll have one more look, and I bet you might be hiding underneath the staircase in those boxes. I'll just have a look... I bet you're in there ..."

There was a pile of large boxes. One had contained a freezer, another a washing machine. Kev had made a sort of cave with them under the staircase and kept a few toys there.

I eased the pistol down my waistband. I didn't want her to see a gun. She'd probably seen and heard enough already.

I put my mouth against a little gap between the boxes.

"Kelly, it's me. Nick. Don't be scared, I'm going to crawl toward you. You'll see my head in a minute, and I want to see a big smile..."

I got down on my hands and knees and kept talking gently as I moved boxes and squeezed through the gap, inching toward the back wall. I wanted to do it nice and slowly. I didn't know how she was going to react.

"I'm going to put my head around the corner now, Kelly."

I took a deep breath and moved my head around the back of the box, smiling away but ready for the worst.

She was there, facing me, eyes wide with terror, sitting curled up in a fetal position, rocking her body backward and forward, holding her hands over her ears.

"Hello, Kelly," I said very softly.

She must have recognized me, but didn't reply. She just kept on rocking, staring at me with wide, scared eyes.

"Mommy and Daddy can't come and get you out at the moment, but you can come with me. Daddy told me it would be OK. Are you going to come with me, Kelly?"

Still no reply. I crawled right into the cave until I was curled up beside her. She'd been crying; strands of light brown hair were stuck to her face. I tried to move them away from her mouth. Her eyes were red and swollen.

"You're in a bit of a mess there," I said.

"Do you want me to clean you up? Come on, let's go and get you sorted out, shall we?" I got hold of her rigid hand and gently guided her out into the garage.

She was dressed in jeans, a denim shirt, running shoes, and a blue nylon fleece. Her hair was straight and just above her shoulders, a bit shorter than I remembered it; she was quite lanky for a seven-year-old, with long, skinny legs. I picked her up in my arms and held her tight as I carried her into the kitchen. I knew the other doors were closed; she wouldn't see her dad.

I sat her down on a chair at the table. "Mommy and Daddy b said they had to go away for a while but asked me to look after you until they come back, OK?"

She was trembling so much I couldn't tell if her head was nodding or shaking.

I went to the fridge and opened it, hoping to find some comfort food. I found the world's largest Easter egg.

"Mmm, yum do you want some chocolate?"

I'd had a good relationship with Kelly. She was a great kid, and that wasn't just because she was my pal's daughter. I smiled warmly, but she just stared at the table.

I broke off a few pieces and put them on one of the side plates that she'd probably been setting earlier with Aida. I found the Off switch on the radio; I'd had enough relaxing soft rock for one day.

As I looked at Kelly again I suddenly realized I'd fucked up. What was I going to do with her? I couldn't just leave her here: her family was lying dead all over the house. But more important, she knew me. When the police arrived she'd be able to say, "Nick Stone was here." They'd soon find out that Nick Stone was one of Daddy's friends; the house was littered with photographs with me in them. And if they did arrest the grinning drunk in the barbecue shots, they'd find that for some strange reason he wasn't Nick Stone at all he was Mrs. Stamford's little boy.

Kev's jacket was hanging over one of the chairs. I said, "Let's wrap you up in your dad's coat; that'll keep you nice and warm." At least she'd have something other dad's; with luck it would cheer her up.

There was just a little bit of whimpering in reply. She was almost in rigor mortis with shock, though at least she had turned her head to look at me now. This was where normally I would have let Marsha take over, because a child's mind was far too complicated for me to work out. But I couldn't do that today.

I wrapped the coat around her and said, "Here you are; get this around you. Look, it's your dad's! Don't tell him, eh, ha ha ha!" I felt something solid in one of the pockets and checked.

"Oh good, look, we can phone him up later."

I looked out the window no movement. I picked up the trash bag, grabbed Kelly's hand, then realized that to reach the front door I'd have to come out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

"Just sit there a second," I said.

"I've got to do something."

I had a quick look to make sure the doors were closed. I thought again about fingerprints, but if I'd missed a set, there was nothing I could do about it now. My only thought was to get out of the area and keep Kelly away from the cops until I'd sorted things out.

I went back and got her and checked the front of the house again for movement. She seemed to be finding it hard to walk.

I had to grip Kev's coat by the collar, half-dragging her toward the car.

I put her in the front passenger seat and smiled.

"There you go; that's nice and warm. Better look after your dad's coat for him. Keep it nice for when you see him."

Then I threw the trash bag in the back, settled into the driver's seat, put my seat belt on, and turned on the ignition.

We drove off at a really sensible pace, nothing outrageous, nothing likely to be noticed.

We'd gone only a few hundred yards when I thought of something; I looked across at her and said, "Kelly, put your seat belt on. Do you know how to do that?"

She didn't move, didn't even look at me. I had to do it for her.

I tried to make small talk.

"It's a nice day today, isn't it? Yep, you'll stay with me a while; we'll get everything sorted out."

Silence.

My mind switched back to the matter in hand. What was I going to do? Whatever I decided, I knew it was no good where we were at the moment. We needed to lose ourselves in a crowd. I headed for Tyson's Corner.

I turned to Kelly and smiled, trying to be the happy-go-lucky Uncle Nick, but it just wasn't happening. She was staring anxiously out the window as if she was being wrenched away from all her familiar landmarks and seeing them for the last time.

"It's OK, Kelly." I tried to stroke her hair.

She jerked her head away.

Fuck it, just let her get on with it; with luck I'd be able to drop her off somewhere before too long.

I turned my thoughts to Kev. He'd said he had a bit of a problem with my "friends over the water." Could it have been PIRA that'd killed him? What the hell for? It was highly unlikely that PIRA would start messing about like that, not in America. It was too professional to bite the hand that was feeding it.

Other things weren't adding up. Why wasn't there a struggle? Both Marsha and Kev knew where the weapons were. Why weren't they used? Why was the front door ajar?

There was no way that would have happened. People didn't just wander in off the street into Kev's house; they had to be invited in.

I felt a rush of anger. If the family had been killed in a car crash, that would have been one thing. If the killers had come in and maybe shot them, I'd be upset, but, at the end of the day, if you live by the sword, you must be prepared to die by the sword. But not like this. They'd been hacked up for no reason that I could see.

I forced myself to think rationally. There was no way I could phone the police and explain my version. Although I'd been lifted off, I was still operating in another country without its consent. Getting caught would be a big no-no. The operation here would be seen as a sign of betrayal and would create distrust between the two security communities. There was no way the Firm would back me up; that would defeat the whole purpose of deniable ops. I was on my own.

Looking at my passenger, I knew I had a problem. As we drove toward Tyson's Corner I realized what I had to do. I saw a Best Western hotel on the left and an open-plan mall on the right. I had to dump the car, because that was one of the connections between me and the house. I needed somewhere to leave it that wasn't isolated, somewhere without video cameras.

As well as the shopping mall and its massive parking lots, on the outskirts was a drive-thru Burger King with its own parking.

It was all very well abandoning a vehicle in the middle of hundreds of others in a parking lot during shopping hours.

But at night, it might be the only car left there and was going to stick out, and it would be checked out by police patrols.

What I was after was an area that was really busy, day and night. Streets or multilevel parking garages were out, because nine times out of ten they have video cameras to stop muggings and car theft. Many multi story parking lots have a camera that takes a picture of the license plate and driver as you enter. At any major junction and along most major thoroughfares, there are traffic video cameras. If my car had been found outside Kev's house, the first thing they'd do was study the traffic videos and parking lot photography.

"Shall we get a burger and some shakes?" I suggested.

"Do you like milk shakes? I tell you what, I'll park and maybe we'll even go shopping."

Again it would be no good driving into the Burger King parking lot, stepping out, and then walking a few hundred yards to the shopping mall that isn't normal behavior. It might stick in people's minds and be recalled at a later date, so I wanted to make the two of us look as natural as possible.

"Strawberry, chocolate, or vanilla which one do you want?"

No reply.

"Strawberry? Go on, I'm going to have a strawberry."

Nothing.

I parked. The place was pretty full. I cupped my hand under her chin and gently turned her face so that she was looking at my big smile.

"Milk shake?"

There was a faint movement of her head, or maybe it was a nod of appreciation. Not much, but at least it was a reaction.

I carried on with the bullshit.

"You just sit here then; I'll get out, I'll lock the car, go and get the milk shakes. And then I tell you what, we'll go into the shopping mall. How about that?"

She looked away.

I continued as if she'd given me a positive response. I got out of the car and locked her in. I still had the pistol tucked down in my waistband, concealed by Kev's jacket.

I went into the Burger King, got two different flavor milk shakes, and came straight back to the car.

"Here we go then, chocolate or vanilla?"

She kept her hands by her sides.

"I tell you what, I'll have the vanilla; I know you like chocolate."

I put the shake in her lap. It was too cold for her legs; as soon as she lifted it up I said, "Come on, then, let's go to the shops. You can bring that with you."

I got her out, closed the door, and locked up. I did nothing about our fingerprints; no matter how hard I tried, I'd never get rid of them all, so what was the point? I opened the trunk, pulled out the bag with the bits and pieces I'd bought at Shannon, and threw in the trash bag full of bloodstained clothing.

It looked like rain. We walked toward the shopping mall; I kept on talking to her because the situation felt so awkward.

What else do you do, walking along with a kid who doesn't belong to you and doesn't want to be with you?

I tried to hold her hand but she refused. I couldn't make an issue of it with people around. I gripped the shoulder of the jacket again.

There was everything in the shopping center from a computer discount warehouse to an army surplus store, all housed in long one-story units that were like islands in a sea of parking lot.