by Stuart Woods
“You’re just saying that to cheer me up,” Stone said, taking the phone from her.
18
Stone was genuinely glad to hear from Ed Eagle. “Ed, how are you?”
“Better than middling, I guess. How about you?”
“Not too bad.”
“You very busy these days?”
“No, I spent some time in England and just got back a couple of weeks ago.”
“I have an invitation for you.”
“I accept.”
“Hang on, let me finish. Susannah is having a birthday, and I’m throwing a party for her.”
“I accept.”
“It’s in Santa Fe this weekend.”
“I accept. Which birthday?”
“Don’t ask. How soon can you get your ass out here?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Certainly not. What are you flying these days?”
“A Citation CJ3 Plus.”
“Then you can do it nonstop?”
“As long as there isn’t a two-hundred-knot headwind.”
“See you late tomorrow afternoon, then?”
“Perfect.”
“Don’t rent a car, I’ll loan you one. It’ll be at the airport.”
“Great.”
“And there’s something I want to show you.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll see.”
“By the way, I have a houseguest named Bob. May I bring him along?”
“Sure, as long as you don’t mind sleeping in the same bed. We’ve got a full house.”
“No problem, Bob can sleep on the floor.”
“Stone, is there something you want to tell me?”
“Lots of things, but not now.”
“By the way, when you get to the airport, read the instructions in the manual before you start the car.”
“I know how to start a car, Ed.”
“Trust me—read the instructions.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Can you find your way to the house sober?”
“I can.”
“Then we’ll see you tomorrow. Drinks are at six.”
“I’ll flight-plan for the cocktail hour.”
“See you then.”
“See you.” Stone hung up feeling elated.
“You look better already,” Joan said.
“I feel better already.”
“Bob looks relieved,” she said.
“Are you relieved, Bob?”
Bob wagged all over.
“You want me to pack you a bag?”
“That would be great.”
“How long?”
“Say a week, to be safe, and pack Bob a bag, too.”
—
The following morning at ten, Stone sat at the end of runway 24 at Teterboro Airport.
“November One, Two, Three, Tango Foxtrot, cleared for takeoff,” the tower controller said.
“N123TF, cleared for takeoff.”
Stone flipped on the pitot heat, strobes, and landing light, taxied onto the runway, and pushed the throttles forward, glancing at the pilot’s display as the airspeed climbed. At a speed labeled R for rotate, Stone pulled back on the yoke, and the jet rose from the concrete and climbed. He retracted the landing gear and the flaps and, at 450 feet, switched on the autopilot, which would now fly the departure procedure known as RUDY4.
Shortly, he got a vector and a new altitude from the departure controller and, to his surprise, was given flight level 400, or 40,000 feet, and was cleared direct SAF.
Twenty minutes later he was at altitude and on course. He adjusted the air-conditioning, chose the symphony channel on the Sirius Satellite Radio, and picked up the New York Times crossword puzzle. He glanced over a shoulder to see how his new crew was doing and saw Bob sitting on a rear seat, looking intently out the window. Stone had laid a blanket in the aisle for him, and a moment later Bob hopped down, curled up, and went to sleep.
Stone concentrated on the puzzle. Each time he moved to the next clue, he looked up, did an instrument scan, made an adjustment, if necessary, then returned to the puzzle. Three and a half hours later he was descending into Santa Fe, with fifty minutes of fuel left, and he set down smoothly on runway 20.
As he taxied to a halt at the FBO (fixed-base operator) and stopped for chocking, a sleek dark sports car pulled up to the nose of the airplane. He wasn’t sure what it was.
He picked up the checklist and went through the shutdown procedure, then got up and opened the door. Bob preceded him onto the ramp, and he gave the key to a lineman, who opened the forward baggage compartment and loaded his and Bob’s luggage into the rear of the car. It was a tight fit.
Stone walked around the car and found the Aston Martin winged logo. The lineman walked Bob over to some grass to do some business while Stone sat in the driver’s seat and looked around. He couldn’t find a key or a start button, and there was no gearshift lever present in the usual place.
“You know this car?” the lineman asked.
“I don’t.”
“I had to read up on it before I took it out of the hangar. Here’s what you do. First, set the handbrake, since the gearbox has no Park setting. Put your foot on the brake, and put this into that slot on the panel.” He handed Stone a little black box, and he slid it into the slot. “Now push it all the way in.” Stone did so, and the car leapt to life with an attractive roar.
“Now you got two choices. You can shift up with the right paddle and down with the left paddle, or you can push the D button on the panel, which will give you an automatic transmission. You lift your foot a little to change gears, or let the car decide. When you stop, pull on both paddles for neutral, or push the N button, apply the handbrake, and push the key again.” Stone tried that, and the key popped out.
“Got it,” Stone said, and drove over to the electric gate. A moment later he was cruising away, with Bob in the passenger seat.
—
By the time he spotted the stone eagle on the road above the village of Tesuque, Stone felt at home in the car. He pulled into the drive and Ed Eagle, all six feet seven inches of him, walked out of the house to greet him.
19
Stone and Ed shook hands and hugged, while Bob helped Ed’s man with the luggage. “Good flight?” Ed asked as they walked into the house.
“Perfect. The winds were easy on me.” Stone looked ahead into the living room. “Uh-oh,” he said. Bob was standing stock-still in the middle of the room, cautiously regarding a nearly identical Labrador retriever.
“That’s Earl,” Ed said. “Let them sort it out.”
Some sniffing and circling took place, then Earl found a ball, showed it to Bob, and let it bounce from his mouth.
“They’re fast friends now,” Ed said. “Earl doesn’t usually share his ball with visitors.”
“Where’s Susannah?” Stone asked.
“She’s picking up someone at the airport.”
“And what was it you wanted to show me?”
“All in good time.”
Two other couples came into the room; one pair was Nicky and Vanessa Chalmers, the other he didn’t know.
“I understand you and the Chalmerses have met,” Ed said. “These other folks are Carlos and Candela Munoz, from San Antonio.”
Everyone shook hands. “Nicky is my newest client,” Stone said.
“And he’s one of my oldest,” Ed replied. “I defended his company against a lawsuit the first year I practiced, and we had a favorable outcome.”
“Stone,” Nicky said, “you didn’t think I hired you without a reference, did you?”
“I’m glad you chose Ed for that,” Stone replied.
Ed’s man, Juan, came back into the room and took drink orders, and
everybody took a seat while he served them. The two dogs rolled happily on the floor.
Stone heard a car door slam outside, and Susannah and a slightly younger and even more beautiful version of her came into the house. Susannah hugged Stone. “This is my little sister, Gala,” she said. They shook hands, and she sat down next to Stone and ordered a drink. Stone could not take his eyes off Gala.
Ed passed by and whispered to Stone, “That’s what I wanted to show you.”
“Where do you hail from?” Stone asked Gala.
“Interesting question,” she said. “I’m not sure. I’ve been living in Los Angeles the past few years, but I gave up the house there in a divorce. I got the Santa Fe house, and I’ve been redoing it, but I haven’t decided yet if this is home.”
“You could do worse,” Stone said.
“I have done worse,” she said, laughing. “I understand you live all over the place.”
“I can’t deny that, but I’m based in New York. I just keep getting offered houses I can’t refuse. In my defense, I did sell one this year.”
“You’re a lawyer, I understand. How do you get any work done?”
“It’s amazing how much work you can get done with a phone, a fax machine, and a computer. There seems to be less and less demand for face-to-face meetings, and even those can be done with the computer. What do you do?”
“I’m a screenwriter,” she said.
“How many face-to-face meetings do you have a year?”
“Not many,” she said. “I’m proof of your point, and my work is portable, so I can live wherever I like.” She nodded toward the two dogs. “Which one of those is yours?” she asked.
“Tell you the truth, I’m not sure. Oh, the one with the red collar is Bob, who flew out here with me. He’s a good crew.”
“What’s a good crew?”
“One who doesn’t complain about my flying.”
“Bob doesn’t look like the complaining sort,” she said.
“Not so far.”
“Have you known each other long?”
“Almost a week.”
“So you didn’t raise him from a pup?”
“No, I was visiting a client in East Hampton last weekend, and Bob seemed to prefer me to her. After I drove away, I found him in my backseat.”
“I heard that,” Nicky said. “I was there, and I can confirm it. Bob took to Stone immediately—the rest of us might have been chopped liver.”
“Including the lady next door,” Vanessa said.
“You don’t want to know about that,” Stone said to Gala. “Not before dinner anyway.”
“I’ll remind myself to ask after dinner,” she said.
“At your own risk.”
They talked for another half hour, then Juan called them to dinner. Stone found himself seated next to Gala, and he didn’t argue about it.
Later in the evening they had coffee in Ed’s study.
“Are you staying with the Eagles?” Stone asked Gala.
“No, I’m staying at my own place, in Tesuque village.”
“Can I give you a lift home later?”
“That won’t be necessary, I have my own car. You were kind enough to drive it from the airport for me.”
“I didn’t know,” Stone said. “Why was it at the airport?”
“I was in L.A., so the dealer delivered it to the airport. I flew into Albuquerque, and Susannah picked me up.”
“Where was it delivered from?”
“Broomfield, between Denver and Boulder. It’s the closest dealer.”
“You’re going to love the car,” Stone said.
“I’m sorry you can’t drive me home,” she said. “We’ll have to think of another excuse to get you to my house.”
“I don’t need an excuse.”
“Then why don’t you come to lunch tomorrow?”
“I can’t think of an excuse not to,” he replied.
20
The following day Stone borrowed a Range Rover from Ed and drove into Tesuque. He found the house easily, just along from the village post office, and the gate was open so he drove in and parked in front of the house.
Gala met him at the door. “Come in,” she said, leading him through a large living room with a fireplace at each end, then outside to where some comfortable furniture was arranged before a fireplace under a portico. “Bloody Marys are a specialty of the house,” she said. “May we get you one?”
“Certainly. This will be my third Bloody Mary in a week,” Stone said.
Gala gave the order to a motherly-looking Hispanic woman, who returned shortly with two tall glasses. “This is Maria, who has taken care of me for as long as I can remember.”
“How do you do, Maria?”
“Very well, thank you.” She returned to the kitchen.
“You know,” Stone said, “I’ve known Susannah for quite a while now, but she has certainly kept your existence a secret.”
“We didn’t see each other for several years. My ex-husband managed to alienate Susannah and Ed early in our marriage, something he was very good at, and he was persona non grata at their house. Out of misplaced loyalty, I stayed away, too.”
“It’s difficult for me to imagine someone who couldn’t get along with Susannah and Ed—they’re such pleasant people.”
“Boris could evoke hostility in even the nicest people,” Gala said.
“What was your married name?”
“Tirov—he was Russian. He made a name for himself there as an actor, and later a director, then came to this country in his early thirties.”
“Did he do a series of some sort of superhero pictures?”
“Yes, he did, and in so doing simultaneously made a large fortune and gained a reputation as a hack, and an unpleasant one at that.”
“How long were you married?”
“Nearly eight years. I suppose I was a glutton for punishment. He was subject to violent rages and brutish behavior, but only when we were alone. Among others he mustered some charm.”
“I don’t want you to relive all that on my account.”
“Thank you, I’m doing a pretty good job of forgetting it.”
“Then we won’t need to talk of it again.”
“What about you? Have you ever been married?”
“Yes, but more briefly than I would have liked. We’d been married for less than a year when she was murdered by a former lover.”
“That’s awful!”
“Yes, it was.”
“I don’t suppose there were children.”
“One, a boy, conceived twenty-odd years ago. He’s a film director in L.A.”
“Oh, wait—Peter Barrington?”
“That’s my boy.”
“I love his work. I’d love to write something for him.”
“He’s pretty much an auteur,” Stone said. “He and his partner, Ben Bacchetti, produce together.”
“Ah, yes, the new CEO at Centurion Pictures.”
“Ben’s father is my closest friend. We were police detectives together in our youth. Dino is now the police commissioner of New York City.”
“You seem very unlike a policeman.”
“That’s what the policemen I worked with thought. Dino was the only one I really got along with. First chance they got, they got rid of me, using an injury as an excuse. Best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Then you went to law school?”
“I did that first, before the police academy. Afterward an old law school classmate urged me to take the bar exam, then join his firm. That worked out rather well.”
“I seem to remember that your son is the stepson of the actor Vance Calder.”
“That’s correct. His mother left me for him before she knew she was pregnant.”
�
�Did Calder know?”
“A good question. I think he may have suspected, but who knows? Neither he nor my former wife is around to answer that question.”
“But Peter took your name?”
“That was his decision. I was very pleased when he told me.”
“Do you see a lot of him?”
“Not enough. We spent some quality time together at my home in England this spring, while he was working on a film there. Both he and Ben married their girlfriends there, too, and it was nice to be around for that.”
They had just finished lunch when a distant telephone rang, and Maria appeared, a cordless instrument in her hand. “The phone is for Mr. Barrington,” she said.
“That’s odd. How would anybody know to reach me here?”
“Only one way to find out,” Gala said.
Stone took the phone from her. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Nicky Chalmers.”
“Hello, Nicky.”
“Vanessa and I are in town, having lunch with some friends, and I saw Carrie Fiske’s ex-husband, Harvey Biggers, across the plaza, browsing the jewelry from the Indians who sell under the portico at the old governor’s mansion. I mention this because Carrie said he’s been stalking her, and you’ve been helping her deal with that.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“No, it was just a fleeting glimpse.”
“Nicky, if he turns up again you should avoid him. I’ll explain why later.”
“Avoiding Harvey will be a pleasure.” Nicky hung up.
21
Stone stayed at Gala’s house until almost three o’clock; then he got back into his borrowed Range Rover and, instead of returning to the Eagles’ residence, turned toward Santa Fe and drove into the town.
He found a parking place half a block from the plaza, then he took a very slow walk around, checking every shop and every bench in the little park. He walked over to the old governor’s mansion, one of the oldest buildings in the United States, parts of it dating back to the sixteenth century. A group of Native American jewelry makers were camped on the sidewalk, under the portico, selling their jewelry. Stone strolled along the sidewalk, looking less at the jewelry and more at the people. Harvey Biggers was not among them.
