by Stuart Woods
He had recently installed a Garmin flat screen that was capable of Synthetic Vision, a GPS-generated map of the world that displayed high terrain and obstacles. When he was well inland, he began to climb, so as to clear the Santa Monica Mountains east of Los Angeles. When they had crossed the peaks, he turned north over the desert, avoiding the restricted area surrounding Edwards Air Force Base, on a dry lake bed.
Teddy finally spoke for the first time. “How does San Francisco sound?” he asked.
“Sounds good,” Lauren said. “Do you think you were right about your feeling?”
“I think so,” Teddy said. He altered course, but something still nagged at him. “No,” he said, “not San Francisco. They’ll work {ey>“I thintheir way up the coast, checking every general aviation airport, and they’ll find the airplane.”
“But it has a new paint job and a new legal registration number.”
“They’ll be looking for a new paint job,” Teddy replied.
“Then where will we go?”
“East,” Teddy said, looking at his planning chart. “We’ll overnight somewhere in the Midwest, then tomorrow, into the belly of the beast.”
“Washington, D.C.?” she asked, incredulous.
“Near enough,” he said. “Clinton, Maryland, Washington Executive Airport. As close to D.C. as we can get. They’ll never think of that.”
14
THE TEAM OF SIX MEN LET THEIR VEHICLES ROLL SILENTLY down the hill, nearly to the house, then they got out and trotted the last thirty yards. Todd Bacon gave them the hand signal that told them to take the positions worked out during their planning session at the motel, none of them on Teddy’s property, which Todd knew would have motion sensors.
When enough time had passed, Todd walked up the front walk at a normal pace, crouched before the front door, and used a professional lockpick to open it, then he unslung his light machine gun and spoke one word into his handheld radio: “GO!”
They came into the house from all sides, kicking doors open. One minute later, Todd spoke again on the radio. “They’re gone,” he said. He was disappointed but not terribly surprised.
“All right,” he said into the radio, “let’s take this place apart. Bag anything that might be remotely of use.”
The team went to work. Two hours later, they had three garbage bags full of what Todd knew was nearly all garbage. Still, there might be that one thing.
“All right,” he said. “I want you to pull out all stops, yank in as many bodies and phones as you can get your hands on. I want a survey of every general aviation airport—nothing is too small—that has had land today a stranger in a Cessna 182 RG with a fresh paint job, and do callbacks from a month ago to now.” Todd clapped his hands together. “Let’s get to work, people.” He got into his vehicle and drove back to the very nice motel that had been home for the past twelve days.
TODD DUMPED HIS BAG in his suite, dug out his satphone, and walked out to the pool. It was too early for swimmers, but he’d have a clear view of the satellite. He punched in the number, and it rang.
“This is Holly Barker,” she said.
“It’s Todd Bacon.”
“How did it go in San Diego?” she asked.
“It went extremely well,” he replied.
“Does that mean you actually bagged Teddy?”
“No, that would have been super well. We missed him by, well, maybe as little as thirty minutes—four hours, max.”
“Poor timing, then.”
“We’ve been working flat-out. We couldn’t take him yesterday afternoon, when you got the call from the doc in San Diego. It would have caused an uproar in the neighborhood, would have been all over drive-time news. We do not want to be the talk of the town on this ~ey>e c job.”
“Certainly not,” Holly replied. “You were right to wait until the middle of the night. You must have spooked him somehow.”
“Impossible,” Todd said. “He had no idea.”
“So he’s in his airplane now, free as a bird.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Listen, next time concentrate on finding the airplane first, then stake it out so if he runs, you’ll get him at the airport.”
“That’s a very sensible suggestion,” Todd said.
“It’s not a suggestion,” Holly said emphatically. “You should have thought of it earlier, instead of waiting for me to tell you.”
“All right, all right. I have a good team, though, and we are going to get Teddy. We’ve already started a survey of every GA airfield on the West Coast, all the way to the Canadian border.”
“Why the West Coast? I mean, apart from why not?”
“His choices were south to Mexico, north up the West Coast, or east to God-knows-where. I think he likes the West Coast, it’s a very appealing place. I can’t see Teddy disappearing into Kansas, you know? He has certain needs of a hometown—some arts, good restaurants, shopping. We mustn’t forget that he has the girl. She’s not going to rely on Walmart for her shopping.”
“I know her,” Holly said, “and your assumption is correct. She needs opportunities for style around her.”
“Well, that sounds like San Francisco or Seattle to me—how about you?”
“Either would fit the bill, or any suburb of the two places.”
“The airport is the key,” Todd said. “He has to have that to make his escape when we rumble him, and we will rumble him. How much time have I got?”
“I want a definitive, provable, but very quiet end to this well before our man’s term is up.”
“That’s eighteen months. Have we got that long?”
“Make it a year.”
“I can do it in that time,” Todd said.
“I think you can, too,” she replied, “and if you can
t, there’s always that big pot of oil we keep on simmer down in the basement, waiting for your tender carcass.” She hung up.
Todd hung up, too, and then he gulped. It wouldn’t be boiling oil, he knew; it would probably be something worse.
15
STONE AND DINO WERE HAVING BREAKFAST WHEN THE PHONE rang, and Stone picked it up.
“Mr. Barrington?”
“Yes.”
“This is Fair Sutherlin.”
“Good morning. You’re up early.”
“It’s eight o‘clock. I’ve been in my office for an hour. Oh, that’s right, I forgot: you’re on vacation.”
Stone ignored the dig. “I’m an attorney. I keep banker’s hours.”
She laughed. “I’m sorry, I can’t resist getting at real people, who have a business life and a private life. When you work at the White House,~ey>iv>
“You make it sound like drudgery,” Stone said.
“Oh, no, it’s too exciting for drudgery. It’s more like combat.”
“I see.”
“I’m breaking out and giving a small dinner party on Saturday night,” she said. “Could you both come? I’ll get Mr. Bacchetti a dinner partner, if he needs one.”
“Hang on,” Stone said, and turned to Dino. “Fair Sutherlin wants us for dinner Saturday night. Do you want her to get you a date?”
“I already have a date,” Dino said. “I’ll bring her.”
Stone went back to the phone. “Is a female FBI agent okay?”
“Oh, that’s perfect,” Fair said. “Nobody there will ever have met a female FBI agent.”
“Where and what time?”
“Seven-thirty for eight.” She gave him the address. “Of course, everything will be off if the country suddenly goes to hell, as it so often does. You’ll be called, in that case.”
“I understand,” Stone said. “The country comes first.”
“But not necessarily in my heart,” she said. “See you then.” She hung up.
“That’s a surprise,” Stone said.
“You’re too easily surprised,” Dino said. “You always were. If I’d put my mind to it, I could have predicted the invitation. She was looking at you
a little hungrily back when she was a murder suspect.”
“Good thing we cleared her,” Stone said. “It probably would have been unethical to go out with a suspect.”
“When did that ever stop you?”
“Is this the guy talking who was fucking a desk sergeant not so long ago?”
“Yeah, but she was a hot desk sergeant.”
“I can’t deny that. I always admired your guts, Dino. If that had come to light, you’d be walking a beat now, instead of moonlighting for the president.”
“Nah,” Dino said, “the commissioner and I are like that.” He held up crossed fingers. “The chief of detectives wouldn’t dare mess with me—at least not while he’s fucking a lieutenant in the Public Affairs office.”
“God, the department is a hotbed of illicit liaisons these days, isn’t it?”
“So what else is new?”
“It’s considerate of the chief to give you a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
“You’d better watch your ass if his lieutenant dumps him.”
“Don’t worry, I know her, she’s not stupid. She knows which side of her badge gets polished.”
“I’m going to try and make sense of that metaphor while I do the crossword,” Stone said, picking up the Times.
“Good luck.”
“With the metaphor or the crossword?”
“Both.”
Stone folded the paper back and looked at one-across. Almost immediately, the phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Holly.”
“Hey, there.”
“Did I wake you?”
“Wake me? I’m already on the crossword.”
“You want to take me to a fancy restaurant on Saturday night?”
“I’d love to, but I’ve accepted an invitation to a dinner party at Fair Sutherlin’s house.”
“I’m jealous already.”
“Oh, come on.”
“The woman’s a shark, you know.”
“And she seems so nice.”
“That’s because she knows you’re in with the president and the first lady.”
“You mean she’s not this nice to everybody?”
“Everybody thinks so, until they suddenly feel blood running down their necks from an open artery.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Are you forgetting what city you’re in?”
“Is it really all that different from New York?”
“In New York, everybody thinks only of business. Here, they think about politics, and believe me, that’s a whole different ball game. Every person you meet is not just out for himself, he’s out for the guy he works for and the guy he works for. That means everybody has at least three main causes to screw other people for, and that’s before you take into account the effect of partisan politics on relationships.”
“So you’re worried about me?”
“Listen, a simple, barefoot New York lawyer like yourself wouldn’t last a week in this town. Where Washington is concerned, you’re a rube, and a disposable one at that.”
“Suddenly I feel naked and alone,” Stone replied.
“That’s rather a nice thought,” she said.
“I hope to God we’re not on an Agency line.”
She laughed. “Give me credit for knowing when I can get away with talking dirty.”
“Listen, what if I take you to a fancy restaurant tonight instead of Saturday, and we can continue this conversation over a bird and a bottle.”
“Done,” she said.
“You pick the restaurant and book the table. The headwaiters here don’t know who I am.”
“If I’m doing my job properly, they don’t know who I am, either, but leave it to me.”
“You going to do something sneaky to get a good table?”
“I’m sneaky for a living,” she said.
“And good at it.”
“You said
it, pal.”
“A DRINK HERE AT, say, six-thirty?”
“I’m going to feel like martinis tonight,” she said.
“Then I will aid and abet.”
16
TEDDY FAY TURNED THE CESSNA TOWARD CLINTON FIELD, in the southeast quadrant of greater Washington, ontu 6
“Tell me again why we’re landing at D.C.,” Lauren Cade said.
“Because it’s the last place Mr. Todd Bacon would think of looking for me. You can bet your sweet ass that right now he’s got a team canvassing every general aviation airport on the West Coast all the way to Canada.”
“I get that part,” Lauren said, “but there have to be, at the very least, dozens of people in D.C. that you used to work with at the Agency who would recognize you on sight.”
Teddy shook his head. “First of all, most of a generation of people I worked with have retired, and they don’t have the money to move into D.C. Those who are still active live out near McLean, as close to work as they can.”
“I guess that makes sense, but being here still makes me nervous.”
“Why? Nobody here knows you, do they? And remember, I wear disguises,” he said, pointing at the toupee that covered his pate.
“It’s true,” Lauren said, “that you do disguises better than anybody I ever saw. Sometimes even I find you unrecognizable.”
“That’s because I have a pretty much featureless face. A nose here, a mustache there, and I’m somebody else. So relax, baby, we’re going to be just fine.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Besides,” Teddy said, “I have a little hideaway at this airport that I kept for years as a backup to Manassas. I have a hangar here that you’ll like.”
“A hangar? What’s to like?”
“O ye of little faith,” Teddy said, stopping before a hangar. He shut down the engine, walked to the small door set into the hangar door, worked a combination lock, and stepped inside. A moment later the hangar door opened squeakily. He walked back to the Cessna, got out the tow bar, and backed the airplane into the hangar.
“We have a car,” he said, pointing to an oldish Toyota parked in a corner. He closed the hangar door and switched on a light. “Grab a couple of bags,” he said, “and follow me.”
He grabbed some bags himself and led her up a flight of stairs, where he tapped a code into a keypad, opened a door, and switched on some lights.
Lauren looked inside. “It’s a living room,” she said.
“It’s an apartment,” he corrected. “There’s a bedroom, a kitchen, and an office, too.” He fiddled with the thermostat, and cool air began to flow. “We need to dust and vacuum and lay in some groceries,” he said, “but that can wait until tomorrow. Let’s shower and change, and I’ll buy you dinner.”
STONE ANSWERED THE BELL and let Holly into the suite, then gave her a kiss. “You look smashing,” he said, admiring the tight yellow dress. “I thought CIA people were purposely drab and were trained to fade into the background.”
“Once in a while I fox everybody by being noticeable,” she said.
“And noticeable you certainly are.” He went to the bar, opened the freezer, and removed a pitcher of martinis that he had premixed. He filled ed.o the a martini glass, dropped in three olives on a spear, and handed her the glass, then poured himself a Knob Creek on the rocks. “Here’s to knockout dresses on beautiful women,” he said, raising his glass.
Holly took a tentative sip, then a bigger one. “Wow,” she said.
“It’s colder than ice.”
“I noticed that.” She sucked an olive off the toothpick and chewed thoughtfully. “Wow again! What’s in these olives?”
“Anchovies,” Stone said. “I didn’t want to tell you before you tasted one. Lots of people blanch at the thought of anchovies.”
“A perfect combination,” she said. “It’s fairly cool tonight, let’s sit on your terrace.”
Stone opened the door and followed her outside. She leaned against the railing and looked toward the White House. “M
uch of what happens in the world starts there,” she said. “It never ceases to amaze me how well our government works.”
“Sometimes,” Stone said.
“A lot of the time, because the government is full of people like me who love the country and want it to do well.”
“Does the Agency work well?”
“Again, a lot of the time. We probably make more mistakes than a lot of government agencies, but then we’re working in a world that’s full of surprises.”
“Isn’t it the Agency’s job to figure out what the surprises are before they happen?”
“Then they wouldn’t be surprises,” she said. “Lance and I do the presidential intelligence briefings when Kate is away, and we’re always able to warn him about two or three things that are about to happen.”
“And then,” Stone pointed out, “the Soviet Union collapses and Egypt erupts, and the Agency didn’t predict those.”
“The big ones are harder to predict than you’d think. We get more than our fair share right.”
“I won’t argue the point,” Stone said.
“You’d better not, if you want hot sex tonight.”
“This is my mouth closing,” Stone said, making a zipping motion.
Holly tossed off her martini and popped the last olive into her mouth. “I’m hungry,” she said, “and you have to feed me more than olives.”
“Where are we dining?” Stone asked.
“At an old D.C. favorite,” she replied. “Maison Blanche, next door to the White House, where the old guard goes, and some of the new guard, too. You’ll see movers and shakers.”
