D.C. Dead
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
AUTHOR’S NOTE
BOOKS BY STUART WOODS
BOOKS BY STUART WOODS
FICTION
Son of Stone†
Bel-Air Dead†
Strategic Moves†
Santa Fe Edge§
Lucid Intervals†
Kisser†
Hothouse Orchid*
Loitering with Intent†
Mounting Fears‡
Hot Mahogany†
Santa Fe Dead§
Beverly Hills Dead
Shoot Him If He Runs†
Fresh Disasters†
Short Straw§
Dark Harbor†
Iron Orchid*
Two-Dollar Bill†
The Prince of
Beverly Hills
Reckless Abandon†
Capital Crimes‡
Dirty Work†
Blood Orchid*
The Short Forever†
Orchid Blues*
Cold Paradise†
L.A. Dead†
The Run‡
Worst Fears Realized†
Orchid Beach*
Swimming to Catalina†
Dead in the Water†
Dirt†
Choke
Imperfect Strangers
Heat
Dead Eyes
L.A. Times
Santa Fe Rules§
New York Dead†
Palindrome
Grass Roos‡
White Cargo
Deep lie‡
Under the Lake
Run Before the Wind‡
Chiefes‡
TRAVEL
A Romantic’s Guide to the Country Inns of Britain and Ireland (1979)
MEMOIR
Blue Water, Green Skipper (1977)
*A Holly Barker Novel †A Stone Barrington Novel
‡A Will Lee Novel §An Ed Eagle Novel
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS / NEW YORK
PUTNAM
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
Publishers Since 1838
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England
Copyright © 2012 by Stuart Woods All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. Published simultaneously in Canada
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Woods, Stuart.
D.C. dead / Stuart Woods. p. cm.
ISBN : 978-1-101-55366-4
1. Barrington, Stone (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Private investigators—Fiction. 3. Washington (D.C.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3573.O642D3
2011
2011039497 813’.54—dc23
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
ALWAYS LEARNING
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This book is for Emmi Storrs
1
STONE BARRINGTON AND DINO BACCHETTI ENTERED ELAINE’S on a Sunday evening, and drinks were brought to them immediately.
They took their usual table, and Elaine came over afonnd sat down. “You two are oddly dressed,” she said. “For you. What’s going on?”
“Oh,” Stone said, “we delivered our sons to Yale for their freshman year this afternoon, and we’re dressed for humping boxes of their gear up to their apartment.”
Elaine nodded. “So the boys are off?”
“They’re off,” Dino said.
“No wonder you both look so glum,” Elaine said.
Stone looked at Dino. “Do I look glum?”
“Yeah,” Dino said.
“So do you.”
“You’re empty nesters now,” Elaine chortled. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
Stone shook his head. “Nine months ago I didn’t have a son, at least not one I’d ever met. Now I don’t have a son again.”
Elaine reached over and patted his cheek. “You haven’t lost a son,” she said, “you’ve gained a college boy.” She got up and continued her rounds of the regulars’ tables.
“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Stone said. “Do you think he’ll ever come home again?”
“Probably not,” Dino replied. “You’ve seen the last of that kid.”
“Oh, shut up. You’re in the same spot.”
“Nah,” Dino said, “you’re worse off. At least I’m not used to having Ben around the house all the time. He’s been at prep sch
ool for four years, and then his mother yanked him to her place every chance she got. This afternoon, why didn’t you raise the subject of visits home?”
“I thought about it,” Stone said, “but I was afraid I wouldn’t like the answer. After all, the kid’s got the money he was paid for his film, which is more than I had a year ago, so he doesn’t need me for anything.”
“He just doesn’t need you for buying stuff,” Dino pointed out. “He still needs a father.”
“You really think so?”
“Ben needs me, I’m sure of that. Why wouldn’t Peter need you, what with his mother dead and all?”
“He’s got Hattie. They’re sleeping together, you know.”
Dino laughed aloud. “No shit? What were you doing your freshman year?”
Stone shrugged. “Fucking my brains out, if I recall correctly.”
“Actually, you continued to do that, at least until you and Arrington got married.”
Stone managed a smile. “If anything, the activity increased after that.”
“I’m getting worried about you, kiddo,” Dino said. “You’re gonna have to get back in the saddle pretty soon or you’re gonna forget how.”
“Yeah, I think about that a lot. It’s just that . . . well, it’s like not being hungry at dinnertime. I just don’t have an appetite.”
Dino turned and watched as a very pretty brunette in a short skirt came through the door and took a seat at the bar, crossing her long legs. “Doesn’t that do anything for you?”
“Sort of,” Stone replied. “I mean, I remember what it was like, the way you remember how you roller-skated when you were a kid, but it just isn’t all thamil’t alt appealing.”
Dino felt for Stone’s pulse and looked at his watch. “Your vital signs seem normal.”
“That’s something, I guess.”
“Look who’s here,” Dino said, nodding toward the door.
Stone turned in time to see a tall redhead in a well-cut pantsuit enter the restaurant. She headed for their table and sat down. “Hello, sailors,” she said, leering a little.
Stone leaned over and kissed her. “Hello, Holly. What brings you to town?”
Dino kissed her, too. “Same question here.”
“Agency business,” Holly Barker replied. She was an assistant deputy director for the CIA. “I hope you guys remember that you’re still under contract to us as consultants.”
“How could we forget?” Stone asked. “Lance keeps reminding us.” Lance Cabot was Holly’s boss, deputy director for operations, or DDO.
“Well, fellas, you’re about to get the call again.”
Stone slumped. “Now what?”
“I can’t tell you,” Holly replied.
“Can’t tell us what?” Dino asked.
“That’s what I can’t tell you, dummy,” she said.
“What kind of deal is this?” Stone asked.
“Here’s the deal: you get the daily rate specified in your contract and five hundred per diem.”
“For how long?” Dino asked.
“That depends on how good you are,” she said.
“Who can live on five hundred a day?” Stone asked.
“Clearly, you’ve been living too well,” Holly replied. “If you stay at a Holiday Inn Express, and eat at McDonald’s, you can make money on that. Would you like my office to book you in?”
“Thanks,” Stone said. “I’ll make my own arrangements.”
“He’ll make mine, too,” Dino said. “He’s a regular travel agent.”
“As you wish,” Holly said.
“Come on, give us a hint.”
“Here’s the only hint you’re going to get,” Holly said. “I’ll have a car left for you at the Manassas, Virginia, airport. There’ll be an envelope locked in the glove compartment containing your credentials.”
“Credentials?” Dino asked. “You think we don’t know who we are?”
“Sure,” Holly said, “but nobody in Washington does. You’ll have to prove it, especially at the White House.”
“Which White House is that?” Stone asked.
“The only one,” Holly said. “Find yourselves hotel rooms, then be there at six sharp tomorrow evening, freshly scrubbed and pressed. If you’re lucky, you’ll get dinner, but don’t count on it.”
“Is it black tie?” Stone asked.
“You’re not that important,” Holly said. “Just wear one of your nice suits.”
“The blue or the pinstripe?” Stone asked.
“Your choice, sweetie. By the way, I’m very so"3"’m verry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I got your very nice letter. I’m afraid I haven’t responded to all those yet.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“How are you and the boyfriend doing?” Dino asked.
“He’s running a big trauma center in San Diego,” she replied. “He didn’t take to the agency life—not enough blood and guts, I guess. It’s been a couple of months. It was amicable.”
“Let me get you a drink and a menu,” Stone said.
“Love to, but can’t,” she said. “There’s a chopper waiting for me at the West Side heliport, and I’ve got a briefcase full of work to keep me awake on the flight home.” She stood up, and both men stood up with her.
“See you tomorrow evening,” she said, then walked briskly out.
They sat down again.
“Why did you ask her about the boyfriend?” Stone asked.
“Because I knew you wouldn’t,” Dino re
plied.
2
STONE PACKED A BAG THE FOLLOWING MORNING, THEN, ON second thought, packed a second bag. The last time he had consulted for the CIA, he, Holly, and Dino had spent a couple of weeks on a tropical isle, pursuing a federal fugitive named Teddy Fay, who gave them the slip. Who knew how long this one would take or where they would end up?
He took the elevator down to the garage and put his bags in the car, then he went to his office and wondered what to put in his briefcase.
Joan Robertson, his secretary, appeared in the doorway. “You off to someplace?”
“To Washington—for a few days, I think.”
“Could be longer?”
“It’s one of those things for Lance Cabot and Holly Barker. Who knows?”
“You’d better take your passport,” she said, opening his safe and tossing him the document.
“I’d take my vaccinations, if I knew which ones to take,” he replied.
“You don’t look very happy about this,” Joan said, pouring him a cup of coffee.
“I’m not unhappy about it,” Stone replied. “If I’m unhappy at all, it’s about Peter’s being off at Yale.”
“How did yesterday go?”
Stone shrugged. “Bittersweet. I’m happy for Peter, getting what he wants, but I miss him already.”
“So do I,” Joan said. “It was a nice change from it being just you all the time.”
“You’ll have Allison to talk to,” Stone said, referring to the Woodman & Weld associate who had been assigned to his office, “and that means you’ll have Herbie Fisher dropping by at every opportunity just because Allison is here.”
“I hear on the secretarial grapevine that Herbie is already making his mark at the firm,” Joan said, “working long hours, being smart. He’s got the other associates coming to him for answers.”
“Who knew that Herbie would turn out so well?” Stone said. “I personally thought he’d be dead or in prison by now.”
“Better haircuts and suits seemed to improve him,” Joan said, “and the lottery win didn’t hurt.”
“I hope he’s still got some of it,” Stone said.
The bell rang, and Joan went to let Dino in. She took his bags to the garage.
“Coffee before we blast off?” Stone asked.
“It couldn’t hurt,” Dino said, accepting a cup. “Has Holly called and told you what this is all about?”
Stone sat down and sipped his coffee.
“Nope. I’m as much in the dark as you are.”
“That used to be kind of exciting,” Dino said, “not knowing what’s going to happen.”
“You’re depressed,” Stone said.
“I am?” Dino said, looking surprised.
“About Ben going away to college.”
“Oh, that. Yeah. You too.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“I have an idea,” Dino said. “Let’s go to Washington and find out what the hell this is all about. It might improve our dispositions.”
“Good idea,” Stone said, putting his coat on. “Let’s get out of here.”
THEY WERE AT TETERBORO AIRPORT in half an hour, and it took Stone another forty-five minutes to do a preflight inspection of his Citation Mustang, get a clearance to Manassas, and taxi to the runway. Shortly, they were cleared for takeoff. Stone shoved the throttles all the way forward, waited for ninety knots, then rotated. The little jet roared off the runway like a big bird. Stone contacted New York Departure, got a vector and a new altitude, and they were off.
Another three-quarters of an hour and they were settling onto the runway at Manassas. A lineman directed them to a parking spot, and someone drove a black SUV over to the airplane and parked it near the door.
“That must be our car,” Dino said.
“Who would give us a black SUV but the CIA?” Stone asked.
The lineman took their bags from the forward luggage compartment and stowed them in the rear of the vehicle, then Stone registered with the FBO (Fixed Base Operator) and gave them a credit card for refueling.
“I’ll drive,” Dino said. “I know the city better than you.”
“Nevertheless, I hope there’s a map in the car,” Stone said.
He got into the passenger seat, and Dino got behind the wheel. “I’m going to need the car key to open the glove box,” Stone said.
Dino handed him the keys, and Stone examined them carefully. There were just two: an ordinary car key and another that looked like something off the space shuttle. He inserted that key into the large, nonstandard lock on the glove box and opened it. Inside he found two holstered SIG Sauer P239 9mm pistols with an extra magazine for each, and a box of cartridges.