by Stuart Woods
“Of course.”
“I hired Tim Peters, and he was very happy about it. You’ll meet him at the airport tomorrow morning at eleven, before we fly.”
“Great! Anything else?”
“Yes. From now until further notice, you must not go anywhere except in a vehicle driven by a Strategic Services employee. Do you own a handgun?”
“No, I’m not much interested in guns.”
“Do you know how to shoot?”
“Not in any sort of serious way.”
“Then let’s go down to the armory right now and get you familiarized.”
“But why? I don’t have a license.”
“I’ll have one for you tomorrow morning.”
“You can do that?”
“Don’t ask too many questions, Peter.”
“Why am I in danger?”
Teddy handed him photographs of Majorov and Chernensky. “The larger, younger of the two men is Yuri Majorov, who sent the two men to follow you in New Mexico. You are unlikely to see him, but the other man is very dangerous, and you must be on the lookout for him every time you leave this bungalow.”
“And what if I see him?”
“Either tell me, or if I’m not available, shoot him.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. Let’s go over to the armory and spend an hour on the range.”
Peter turned out to have a good eye and a steady hand, and Teddy was pleased with his performance, standing, kneeling, and prone. Next he had him fire while moving left and right, and he was not so happy with his prowess in that mode. Still, he could shoot—if he could bring himself to shoot. Teddy didn’t know how to teach that.
Teddy checked out the handgun and holster for the .380 pistol Peter had been firing, then they rode back to the bungalow in Peter’s golf cart, with Teddy on high alert.
“Well,” Peter said, when they got back inside, “that was fun, but I’m glad it’s over.”
“You need more work on shooting while moving,” Teddy said.
“You know what’s scary about this?” Peter asked. “How seriously you’re taking it.”
“You’d better take it seriously, too, until I can neutralize the Viper, or you won’t finish the film you’re working on. And by the way, when you come to the airport tomorrow morning, have the driver pull into the hangar before you get out. There’s nothing to hide behind at an airport, if shooting starts.”
A voice came from behind him. “Shooting? What shooting?” Ben Bacchetti and Hattie Patrick stood in the doorway.
“Ben, Hattie, you remember Billy Barnett, from New Mexico?”
“Sure,” Ben said. “Hi, Billy. We’ve been in the recording studio. What’s going on?”
“Well,” Peter said, “you remember the car following us on the road?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“The guy who sent the car is in L.A., and Billy thinks he might send somebody else to look us up.” He handed Ben the photographs.
“This guy is a threat?” Hattie said. “He looks like somebody’s grandfather.”
“That’s because he has survived every encounter he has ever had with an opponent,” Teddy said. “You would be unwise to underestimate him.”
“What do we do if we see him?” Hattie asked.
“Run,” Teddy replied.
“Ben shoots,” Peter said to Billy.
“Good. You want me to get you something to shoot with?” Teddy asked.
“I’ve got the old man’s .38 back at The Arrington,” Ben said.
“Carry it. I’ll get you a license.”
“What about me?” Hattie asked.
“Do you want to walk around armed?”
“Well, no.”
“Then let me worry about you. Just keep a lookout for that old man in the photograph.”
“This is playing like a movie,” Hattie said.
“Don’t make the mistake of believing that,” Teddy replied. “Everybody needs to be wary for the next few days.”
“What happens in a few days?” Ben asked.
“Don’t ask.”
• • •
Stone left the Wilshire Boulevard office of Woodman & Weld and drove back to The Arrington. He noticed a brown SUV a couple of cars behind him that turned whenever he did.
• • •
He found Mike Freeman sitting by the pool with a Bloody Mary frozen to his fist.
“Did you have a good day?” Mike asked.
“Pretty good. I’ve been going over Peter’s contract with the studio. Our L.A. office did the dogwork, and they did a good job.”
“God forbid a partner in a law firm should get the crease in his pants wrinkled.”
“Mike, your people drive brown SUVs, don’t they?”
“Brown, black, blue—whatever the dealer has when we’re shopping for cars.”
“A brown one followed me from the Woodman & Weld offices just now. What’s going on?”
“You remember why you came back out here?”
“I do.”
“Your fears were warranted. Majorov has turned up in L.A. with an assassin in tow, and I’m taking precautions.”
“I see. What precautions have you taken with Peter?”
“Billy Barnett.”
“Is he enough?”
“I believe he is.”
The door slammed, and the kids came out of the house.
“Welcome home,” Stone said. “How was your day?”
“Extremely interesting,” Peter said. “I spent part of it learning to shoot a handgun. Billy was my instructor.”
“How’d you do?” Stone asked.
“Pretty good, I think. Billy seemed pleased, except I was a little wild when moving.”
“Get better at that,” Stone said.
“That’s what Billy said.”
“Listen to Billy.”
“I do.”
“We all do,” Hattie said. “Ben and Peter are packing now, and I have instructions to run if I see this man.” She handed Stone the photograph Billy had given her. “He’s called the Viper.”
Stone sucked his teeth. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Who does?” Mike asked. “I assume you’re packing, yourself?”
“I will be, starting tomorrow.”
“The Viper is staying at the Bel-Air with Majorov.”
“You’re so comforting,” Stone said. “How do you feel about the security at The Arrington?”
“It’s excellent. Strategic Services provides it, if you recall. I had a word with our team leader this afternoon, and I circulated that photograph in your hand.”
“Where did the photograph come from?”
“From Billy Barnett.”
“And how did he get it?”
“He photographed them when they got off Majorov’s airplane at Santa Monica.”
“How is Billy so on top of this?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t much care, but I’ll say this: I’m glad I offered him a job, and I’ll be very pleased if and when he accepts it.”
“Dad,” Peter said, “thank you for suggesting I hire Billy. I’m very glad I did. We’re going to start working on my instrument rating tomorrow, in his airplane. He has a JetPROP, like your old airplane, but newer and better equipped.”
“And your Mustang will be here by dark,” Stone said. “The pilot called from his last refueling stop.”
“And the pilot I hired is going to give me dual in the Mustang,” Peter said.
“As far as I’m concerned,” Stone said, “the more time you spend in the air for the next week or two, the better.”
Teddy and Betsy showered together, as had become their habit, then had breakfast.
“Betsy,” he said.
“You sound serious.”
“Don’t I always sound serious?”
“Well, you have a sense of humor, you know.”
“Right now, I’m serious.” He showed her the photo of the Viper. “This man is in town with Majorov, and he’s very dangerous. If you see him, avoid him and call me.”
“All right.”
“I’ve told you before that we might have to move on short notice.”
“You have.”
“That time may be near. I want you to come to the airport with me this morning and see where we’ll be moving, if we need to.”
“All right.”
“And I want to make a stop along the way.”
“I’m yours for the day.”
“Okay, give me a hand with a couple of bags, will you?” Teddy went to a locked closet, opened it, and handed Betsy a duffel and a small suitcase. He grabbed another, heavier duffel and a briefcase, and they took the elevator down to the garage and stowed the things in the Speedster’s tiny trunk and behind the two seats. Betsy held one duffel in her lap.
Teddy drove to a large office supply depot and bought a roomy safe with a digital combination, then paid extra to have it delivered to the airport immediately.
He was at the hangar by ten o’clock, where he found Peter’s Mustang parked alongside his own airplane, and the keys on Tim’s desk. Then, while they waited for the safe to be delivered, Teddy showed Betsy the apartment.
“This is nice,” she said, checking out the modern kitchen and the view of Santa Monica from a large window. “I could live here.”
A truck’s horn blew downstairs, and Teddy went to show the driver where to put the safe, which was in a closet in the pilot’s lounge. He tipped the man, then gave Betsy the car keys. “You have two assignments this morning,” he said. “While I’m flying with Peter, I’d like you to buy some things for the apartment—whatever it needs—and get it ready for us to move in.”
“That’s easy—what else?”
“I want you to buy a car.”
“What kind of car?”
“Whatever you want.”
“New or used?”
“Whatever you want, but it should be large enough for us to make a move in, maybe an SUV.” He went to the large duffel he had brought, which was full of cash, and gave her ten bundles of $100 bills. “Here’s a hundred thousand dollars,” he said. “That’s your budget.”
“I don’t think I’ll need that much.”
“Then keep the change.” He unpacked the rest of the cash, put it into the safe, along with his briefcase and a suitcase, set a new combination, and locked it. “If we need to leave, the money is what we take first,” he said. He got her to memorize the combination and open the safe twice.
Tim Peters arrived, and Teddy introduced him to Betsy, then she left. Teddy sat Tim down, gave him a photograph of the Viper and the lecture on how dangerous the man was.
“I keep a nine-millimeter in my bottom desk drawer,” Tim said.
“Don’t use it unless you have to, but if you have to, use it fast and aim for the head.”
“Gotcha.”
• • •
Peter arrived in an SUV with a Strategic Services driver, and Teddy introduced him to Tim, then they unlocked the Mustang and had a good look at it.
“Now to work,” Teddy said. They towed Teddy’s airplane out of the hangar, and Teddy showed Peter how to perform a preflight inspection. That done, they got aboard, with Peter in the left seat, and Teddy ran through the prestart checklist with him.
“Have you used the Garmin 1000 avionics suite before?” Teddy asked.
“Yes, I trained in airplanes equipped with it.”
“Then you have a head start on your instrument training and your Mustang training,” Teddy said. He took the younger man through engine startup, then they got permission from the tower for a VFR departure to the north.
Peter took off and flew the airplane with some assurance, which encouraged Teddy. They flew north and west and found some airspace, and Teddy took Peter through some turns, slow flight, and stalls, then they made some landings at a small airport and returned to Santa Monica.
Teddy chocked the airplane and took Peter into the pilots’ lounge. “I’m going to use this room as an office, if that’s all right with you.”
“Sure it is.”
He sat Peter down and started ground school with a long lesson in how to read IFR charts and approach plates, then they walked to a restaurant on the field and got some lunch.
“I have the feeling I’m traveling with the Secret Service,” Peter said over burgers. “Mike’s people and you are always watching.”
“That’s why I took the gunfighter’s seat,” Teddy said. “In the corner, facing the room and the door.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
“Are you armed?”
“The holster is on my belt, under my shirttail,” Peter said. “There’s a magazine in the weapon, but the chamber is empty.”
“When we’re back in the hangar, pump a round into the chamber, leave the hammer back, set the safety, and holster the gun. You may need to move fast, and all you’ll have to do is thumb the safety down and fire. Also, replace the ejected round in the magazine.”
Peter nodded.
When they returned to the hangar there was a shiny Mercedes station wagon inside, and Betsy was unloading shopping bags. Teddy introduced her to Peter, who left them to make some phone calls.
“New?” Teddy asked.
“Two years old, nine thousand miles,” she said. “And it’s got the V-8 engine. I paid forty-six thousand and I put the change into the safe, less some walking-around money.”
“You done good, sweetheart.”
“Thank you.”
“You want to come flying with us, see some California countryside?”
“Maybe next time. I think I’ll get the apartment sorted out.”
Teddy kissed her, then went to the airplane with Peter, took off, and headed north again.
As Peter made his first right turn, Teddy looked back at the airport and saw a large black Mercedes van being allowed through the gate at Atlantic Aviation. Not the only such van in town, he said to himself. Probably picking up arriving passengers.
Teddy watched from the right seat as Peter made his third landing at Santa Monica. He was pleased with the way the boy had adapted to the single-engine turboprop. Teddy himself had taken a while to get used to landing the airplane, and he thought of himself as a pretty hotshot pilot.
They taxied to the hangar and went through the shutdown procedure, then Teddy took a few minutes to review what they’d done that day and to question Peter on approach plates. “We’ll start flying instrument approaches tomorrow,” he said.
They got down from the airplane and attached the little electric tow to the nosewheel, then Teddy used the remote control on his key to open the bifold hangar door. He stood and stared. Except for the Mustang and his Speedster, the hangar was empty. Tim Peters was absent, and so were Betsy and her new station wagon. Teddy drew his gun. “Stay there,” he called over his shoulder to Peter.
Teddy walked into the hangar, the gun in his hand, watching for movement, listening for a footstep, sniffing the air for the smell of cordite. Tim’s office was empty, as was the pilots’ lounge. Teddy kicked off his loafers and ran lightly up the stairs to the apartment, stepping on the outside of each step to avoid squeaking. He checked the apartment quickly, finding it in excellent order—sheets on the beds, dishes in the cupboards, dusted, vacuumed, perfect. Then from downstairs he heard the closing of a car door—quietly, as if not to attract attention.
He ran down the stairs and found Peter and Betsy leaning on the Mercedes station wagon and chatting. Teddy heaved a huge sigh of relief and put the gun away before they could see it.
“Hi, there,” Betsy said.
“Where you been?” Teddy asked lightly, stepping into his loafers.
“I went back to the apartment to pick up a few things—some of your clothes, the liquor.”
“Betsy likes a martini at the cocktail hour,” Teddy said to Peter. “Where’s Tim?”
“Gone for the day. He said you didn’t seem to need him,” Betsy said. “Peter has been telling me I ought to learn to fly.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Teddy replied. “I’ve got my hands full right now, but there’s a flight school on the field.” He pointed at the sign across the runway. “Why don’t you go over there and inquire about training, while Peter and I run over a few things?”
“Help me with the liquor and the bags, and I will,” she said.
The two men carried the things upstairs for her, then went back to Teddy’s new office in the pilot’s lounge. “Let’s do a weight and balance calculation,” Teddy said, “and get that behind us.” His anxiety had finally melted away.
• • •
When they were done for the day, Teddy handed Peter two California carry licenses, one for him and one for Ben.
Peter looked at them closely. “Are these bogus?”
“If you go to the state website, you’ll find your names listed there as license holders.”
“Then I won’t inquire further,” Peter said. He shook hands and stepped into the Strategic Services SUV, which had just pulled into the hangar.
Betsy returned and parked her car in the hangar, then Teddy closed the main door. He checked the lock on the rear door, near his office, then they went upstairs.
“Can I force a drink on you?” he asked.
“I believe you can,” she said.
Teddy made her a martini and poured a bourbon for himself, while she spread something on some crackers. They sat down in the living room on the comfortable sofa.
“I start Monday with my flying lessons,” Betsy said. “I’ll fly three days a week and do ground school the other three. Sundays off.”
“To flying through the air on gossamer wings,” Teddy said, raising his glass.
She raised hers and they took their first sip.
