by Stuart Woods
She leaned forward and whispered, “Ten kilos.” “My goodness,” Sharpe said. “Your friends have become more… commercial, shall we say!”
“Perhaps. I’m not familiar with their business arrangements.”
“Of course not.”
“And how soon could you deliver?”
“Two, three days,” Sharpe said. “And at the same price per.”
“Oh, I should think a volume discount would be in order,” Mitzi said.
“I might be able to get you five percent off,” Sharp replied.
“Oh, I think ten percent would be more acceptable to my friends,” Mitzi said, giving him a brilliant smile.
“Given the quantity, I can do that,” Sharpe said.
“We’ll do it the same way as last time,” Mitzi said. “I’m more comfortable with this sort of transaction in my own home.”
“I don’t know about that, Mitzi,” Sharpe said. “My sources don’t like to repeat themselves geographically. I’m sure you understand.”
“No, I don’t,” Mitzi said firmly. “And I’m not going to do this on some street corner. Anywhere else but my home would be a deal breaker.”
Sharpe shrugged. “All I can do is try,” he said.
“Try hard,” Mitzi replied. She shook his hand, and he went to join Larsen in the lobby, just as Stone was returning.
“How’d it go?” Stone asked.
“I got ten percent off!” Mitzi squealed. “He bridled at doing it in the apartment again, but I put my foot down.” She looked around. “This is an awfully nice hotel; why don’t we get a room?”
Stone looked at his watch. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until tonight before I can jump you. Eight thirty at Elaine’s?”
“Oh, all right,” she said, giving him a luscious kiss.
50
STONE WALKED HOME, and as he came through the front door, Joan flagged him down.
“A Brian Doyle is waiting in your office,” she said. “He insisted; he showed me a badge.”
“Right,” Stone said. He tiptoed down the hall to his closed door and put his ear to it. He could hear the sound of drawers being opened and closed. Silently he turned the knob, then threw open the door.
Brian Doyle was caught with a handful of cancelled checks. “What do you want?” he demanded, as if Stone had entered his office unannounced.
“I think that’s my question,” Stone replied, “since you’re rifling my desk.”
“Oh, this?” Doyle tossed the bundle of checks onto the desk. “They were just lying here.”
“No. They were at the back of my center drawer,” Stone replied. “You’re the one doing the lying.”
“I have a perfect right to search your desk,” Doyle said, as if he really did.
“I think that’s called breaking and entering,” Stone said.
“Not if you’re my subordinate.”
Stone came around the desk, grabbed Doyle’s necktie, dragged him to a chair, and pushed him into it. “Let’s get something straight, Brian,” he said, “once and for all: I am not your subordinate in any sense of the word-intellectually, morally, or sartorially. I am your superior in every department, and if you think your little prank with the badge makes any fucking difference, I’ll stick it up your ass sideways.”
Doyle held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right, all right, just calm down.”
“State your business, then get out,” Stone said, glaring down at him.
“I just want to talk about the Sharpe and Larsen bust,” he said.
“So, talk.”
“I’m concerned about Mitzi’s safety,” Doyle said.
“So soon? I’ve been concerned about it from day one.”
“Well, me, too. Why do you think I put Tom there to take care of her?”
“Because he’s her partner, and it’s his responsibility, perhaps?”
“Well, sure, but he’s the right guy for the job.”
“So, why aren’t you talking to Tom instead of me?”
“Because since we have him set up as her driver, he’s not going to be welcome at the buy. You will be, though.”
“I’m aware of that,” Stone said. “I’ve just come from a meeting with Sharpe and Larsen where Mitzi proposed the big buy, and Sharpe agreed to the terms.”
“I heard that from Mitzi’s earpiece,” Doyle said. “And why weren’t you wearing yours?”
“Because it’s a pain in the ass and because I don’t want you listening to every word I say,” Stone replied. “I’ll wear it when it’s necessary.”
“It’s necessary every time you have a meet like that,” Doyle said. He was beginning to recover his composure and adopt his superior attitude again. “We’ve got to have yours as a backup, in case Mitzi’s goes on the fritz.”
“I’ll wear it when it’s necessary,” Stone repeated.
“I want us to have another meeting with Tiffany Baldwin about the bust,” Doyle said, changing the subject.
“You have another meeting with her, not I.”
“What, are you afraid of her?”
“If you knew her better,” Stone said, “you’d be afraid of her. You’d better watch your ass, Brian, because I think even the commissioner is a little afraid of her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been at the last meeting.”
“Why should I be afraid of that bitch?” Doyle asked.
“Because she could destroy you in a heartbeat if she felt like it,” Stone explained.
“And how would she do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, how about a federal grand jury indictment?”
“Indictment? For what?”
“Don’t you think that if she chose to put a couple of investigators on you she wouldn’t find something? You’re not exactly squeaky clean; you never have been.”
Doyle reddened. “I have nothing to fear from her.”
“No? Well, you’d better not screw up the Larsen part of the bust, because if you do she’ll come down on you like an Amazon goddess, and she’ll hand you your balls.”
Doyle pushed his chair back and stood up. “I can see I’m not going to get anywhere with you,” he said.
“Finally,” Stone said. “Now let me tell you how this bust is going to go down. Mitzi has set it up at the apartment, but you’re not going to have anybody in the building except me.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because Mitzi is borrowing the place from a friend of mine, and her neighbors would not take kindly to having a SWAT team in their lobby and elevators. And you can’t grab him when he comes out of the building, either. You’ll have to put four cars on him and wait until he’s well away from there.”
“At his place? Why?”
“Probably not at his place.”
“Then where?”
“If you want Sharpe and Larsen together, you’d better do it at Teterboro Airport, because they’re ready to run.”
Doyle shook his head. “I don’t want to pull any Jersey cops in on this.”
“Then you’d better have some FBI there, hadn’t you?”
“That’s what I want to talk to Tiffany about,” Doyle said. “I don’t want them there. This is our bust.”
“It’s yours because Tiffany allowed you to do it, and she said so in the presence of the commissioner,” Stone said. “So you’d better not fuck it up, and that means having a federal presence there.”
“I hate the FBI,” Doyle said sullenly.
“What cop doesn’t?” Stone asked. “You think you’ve got a monopoly?”
“I don’t want to ask her for help.”
“She’s waiting for you to do just that, and if you don’t, then this case is going to fall on you from a great height.”
Doyle thought this over. “Teterboro, huh?”
“That’s where Sharpe and Larsen have chartered in the past,” Stone said, “but you’d better have enough people to cover Westchester Airport if they decide to go there instead.”
“Yo
u think they might do that?”
“If they have the slightest inkling that you’re on to them, they could do anything.”
“How many people do you think we’ll need?”
“An army,” Stone replied. “Go put it together, and ask Tiffany for help.”
Doyle got up and left, muttering under his breath.
51
MITZI LOOKED AT STONE over the rim of her glass of Knob Creek. “You seem a little down,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m worried about the bust,” he said.
Mitzi adjusted her push-up bra. “I thought you liked it.”
“Not that bust,” Stone said, laughing in spite of himself. “Sharpe and Larsen.”
“Sounds like a Dickensian accounting firm, doesn’t it?” Mitzi said.
“I wish it were,” Stone replied.
“Oh, come on, Stone. It’s pretty straightforward, once we cover all our bases.”
“We don’t even know where all the bases are,” Stone said.
“Brian and Tom had a meeting with the U.S. Attorney this afternoon and asked for some of her people. That should help.”
Stone admired her bust again. “Do you have a vest that will protect those?”
“Without looking overweight and dowdy? No.”
“Just this once?”
“Maybe, after we make the buy.”
“Wear it during the buy.”
“You think Derek is going to shoot me in the apartment?”
“I don’t know what to think. How are you going to pay for the drugs?”
“I already have, remember?”
“Sharpe is going to want real money, not a bad check.”
“Tiffany had a word with Sharpe’s bank.”
“How do you know which bank he uses?”
“By the deposit stamp on the back of the check.”
“You’re not going to get a New York banker to tell Sharpe that your check has cleared and the funds are available.”
“No. An FBI agent on the banker’s phone line will confirm that. The bank isn’t liable for what an FBI agent says to Sharpe, especially since they won’t know what the agent is telling him.”
Stone nodded. “I like that. Whose idea was it?”
“Mine, but I let Brian propose it to Tiffany.”
“You shouldn’t be so self-effacing,” Stone said. “It won’t do you any good. Brian will get all the kudos from the bust, and he’ll leave you high and dry.”
“Can I trust you with a secret?”
“Sure.”
“I passed the lieutenant’s exam last week.”
“So you think you’ll get Brian’s job?”
“Only if he gets kicked upstairs,” she said. “Otherwise, they’ll give me a squad in Staten Island or someplace way out in Queens. But if Brian does get kicked upstairs I’ll have a shot, mostly because there’s not much competition at the precinct.”
“They’ll transfer you either way; they’re not going to put a woman in charge of a squad of guys she’s been working with. Never happen.”
“We’ll see,” Mitzi said.
“Good luck to you,” Stone said, raising his glass.
Dino came through the door and shot Stone a questioning glance.
“You mind if Dino joins us?” Stone asked Mitzi.
“You think I didn’t expect to have dinner with Dino, too?” she asked.
Stone waved him over.
Dino sat down and ordered a Scotch. “You two still drinking that Kentucky swill?” he asked by way of a greeting.
“I don’t trust any booze that has to take a boat here,” Mitzi said. “Also, my daddy once told me he’d disinherit me if I drank un-American.”
Dino looked at Stone, then at Mitzi. “What’s the matter with him?” he asked her.
“He’s worried about the bust,” she replied.
“What have you got to be worried about?” he asked Stone. “Let the cops take care of it.”
“By ‘the cops’ you mean Brian Doyle?”
“Oh,” Dino said. “I get your point.”
Mitzi looked at both of them askance. “What is it with you guys? Brian’s not so bad.”
“We’ve known him longer than you have,” Dino said. “He’s the kind of guy who’ll take credit for your work.”
“It isn’t enough for Brian to take the credit,” Stone explained. “For him to feel good about himself, he has to make everybody else look bad.”
“Oh, really!” Mitzi laughed. “Why don’t you two get him in here, then put ’em on the table and we’ll measure.”
Dino looked at Stone and shrugged.
“Mitzi,” Stone said, “has Brian ever complimented you on your work?”
“Many times,” she replied.
“Has he ever said anything good about you to your captain?”
“Well,” she said, “I assume he passed it up the line; he said he would.”
“Have you ever read your file after a performance review?” Dino asked.
“Yes, I have.”
“Has he ever given you a positive review that didn’t make it sound like he was responsible for your success?”
Mitzi thought that over.
“Let me guess what he had to say,” Dino said. “He said something like, ‘This officer has responded well to the training and advice of her commander.’ ”
Mitzi’s brow furrowed, a strange sight. “I think I see what you mean,” she said softly.
“Who’s your rabbi?” Stone asked. “Not Brian, I trust.”
“Not exactly,” Mitzi said.
“You don’t have a rabbi, do you?” Dino asked.
“Not exactly.”
“All you’ve got is Brian.”
“I have other friends in the department,” she said uncertainly.
“I’m really glad to hear that,” Dino said, as if he didn’t entirely believe her.
Nobody spoke again until a waiter came to take their orders.
52
THEY STARTED FOOLING around in the cab on the way home, and by the time they had made it upstairs they were leaving a trail of clothing across the bedroom.
Mitzi undid her bra and threw it as far as she could. “Free at last!” she half-shouted. She tackled Stone, and they fell onto the bed, writhing in the mutual pleasure of their naked bodies. In a moment they were conjoined.
“I think this is what they mean by ‘one flesh,’ ” Stone said.
“I like it,” Mitzi said, sticking her tongue in his ear.
It was, perhaps, her tongue that kept him from properly hearing the first outburst.
“What?” Stone asked.
Mitzi froze. “That wasn’t me,” she whispered.
“What was it?”
“Lying scum!” a female voice said.
“You promised not to bring your roommate,” Stone said to Mitzi.
“I didn’t.”
Stone sat up and looked around the darkened room, lit only by a few shafts of moonlight cutting through the venetian blinds. As he squinted, a naked female stepped out of his dressing room.
“Miserable son of a bitch,” Carrie Cox said. “And with her.” She pointed at Mitzi.
“Oh, come on, Carrie,” Mitzi said, sitting up on one elbow. “You’ve got to get over high school.”
“Carrie,” Stone said. “What are you doing here?” He realized that sounded hollow, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“What am I doing here? What is she doing here?” Carrie pointed again.
“You want to join us, Carrie?” Mitzi asked.
“What?”
“Stone’s pretty good at threesomes,” Mitzi said. “Come to think of it, so am I. And I like your dancer’s body.”
“Mitzi, please,” Stone said. “Let me handle this.”
“Okay, handle it,” Mitzi replied. “I’ll wait here.”
“Carrie,” Stone said, getting to his feet, “let me get you a cab home.”
“Why should I l
eave?” she demanded.
“Carrie,” Mitzi said, “I’m trying to make the best of this. Either get into bed or get out of here.”
Carrie seemed to be thinking it over, and Stone found himself speechless. Then Carrie disappeared into his dressing room, and a moment later she came out, holding her clothes in her arms.
“I’ll get my own cab,” she said, stalking out of the room.
Stone made to follow her but found his wrist locked in Mitzi’s iron grip.
“She’s an actress,” Mitzi said. “Don’t spoil her exit.”
Stone sat down on the bed, and a moment later he heard the front door slam. “I hope she got her clothes on before going outside,” he said.
Mitzi knelt on the bed behind him and put her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts into his back. “How did she get in?”
“I seem to remember giving her a key a while back,” Stone replied.
“Oh.”
“She was in trouble and needed a place to stay.”
“She seems to have taken a proprietary interest in the house. And in you.”
Stone sighed. “I guess this is my fault.”
“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” Mitzi said, pulling him back onto the bed. “Carrie was always a little crazy, even when she was fourteen.” She fondled his penis. “Oh, she frightened it. Poor baby.”
Stone did his best to turn his attention to Mitzi again, and his best was pretty good.
VERY EARLY in the morning the bedside phone rang. Stone opened an eye and checked the clock. Half past five. He closed his eyes and let the machine pick up on the third ring.
After a short delay it rang again, and the machine picked up again.
“Maybe you’d better get that,” Mitzi said, pulling a sheet over her head. “Somebody really wants to talk to you.”
When it rang again, Stone picked up the phone. “What?”
“Stone, it’s Bob Cantor. Carrie has been shot; she’s in the Lenox Hill Hospital ER.”
“I’m coming,” Stone said, then hung up. He went to his dressing room and started pulling on clothes, noticing that a lacy pair of Carrie’s panties still hung from a hook there.
“What’s going on?” Mitzi asked, sitting up.
“I’m sorry,” Stone said, “a bit of an emergency has come up, and I have to go out.”
