by Stuart Woods
“Okay, I’ll do that. See you in an hour or so.” Macher hung up and turned into a shopping center, where there was a supermarket. Half an hour later he was back on the road with a trunk full of food and drink.
—
STONE WAS AT his desk when Joan buzzed. “Ed Rawls for you on one.”
“Hello, Ed.”
“Morning, Stone. Anything unusual happening there?”
“Well, let’s see. In the middle of the night there was a gun battle in front of my house, and the perpetrator is in Bellevue with a couple of slugs in him. Turns out, he had planted a bomb outside before he was arrested, but we got that taken care of before it could go off.”
“Sounds like Macher.”
“Sounds exactly like Macher. The perp’s car was registered to his Virginia security company, and the Arlington police have searched his offices, looking for Jake Herman, his number one man, who was implicated by the shooter. Macher was in his office in Arlington, but he’s probably on the run by now.”
“Funny you should mention that,” Rawls said. “I got a call from the alarm system monitor for my Virginia house. Someone has disconnected the alarm.”
“I’ll call Dino and see that the local police are notified.”
“My house is in the country, and the local sheriff’s office is understaffed. They don’t think much of domestic alarm system calls, since nine out of ten are homeowners who have entered the wrong code or otherwise fucked it up.”
“What do you want to do, then?”
“I’m headed to Virginia this morning, anyway. It’s getting too cold for me in Maine. I was going to drive, but I think I’ll charter a light airplane from the Rockland airport. If I start now, I can be down there in, say, three hours.”
“You’d better go armed, if Jake Herman is in your house.”
“Where do you think Macher is?” Ed asked.
“No idea. I’ll see what Dino knows and get back to you.”
Stone dialed the number.
“Bacchetti.”
“It’s Stone. Can you get another fix on Macher’s cell phone?”
“Hang on.” Dino put him on hold for a minute, then came back. “He’s still in Virginia, but he’s moved south to a spot not far from the workplace of your buddy Lance Cabot.”
“That sounds like Ed Rawls’s house.”
“Is Ed down there?”
“No, but he’s headed that way. Thanks.” Stone hung up and called Rawls.
Rawls was packing when Stone called. “Hello?”
“Ed, Dino’s got a fix on Macher, and he’s at a location not far from Langley. That sound familiar?”
“You bet your sweet ass, it does. I gotta run.” He called the airport and ordered up their Cessna 182, then finished packing. He called a local cab to take him to the airport.
—
STONE CALLED DINO.
“Bacchetti.”
“I just got a call from Ed Rawls. Somebody has disconnected the alarm at his house in Virginia. I told him about your hit on Macher’s phone, and he’s on the way down there. I don’t want him to walk in on them. Can you call the cop shop down there and get them to check the house?”
“Listen, I can’t call out the local gendarmerie in some Podunk place in another state, just because Ed Rawls has a hair up his ass. Does he have a security system?”
“Yes, and it went off this morning.”
“If they get an alarm anomaly, somebody’ll check it out. I’m not going to get involved.”
“Do the Arlington police know where Macher is now?”
“He was in his office an hour ago, when they left.”
“Okay, thanks.” Stone hung up and Googled Macher’s company, then called.
“EMServices,” a woman said.
“Erik Macher, please.”
“He’s out at the moment. Who’s calling?”
“A friend. When do you expect him back?”
“It may be a day or two, he said.”
“Thanks.” Stone hung up and called Rawls back.
“Rawls.”
“Macher’s office says he’s gone for a couple of days. Does he know about your house?”
“He certainly does. He had surveillance on it for several days.”
“What’s the nearest airport?”
“I’m flying into Manassas. They’re picking me up in half an hour to go to Islesboro Airport.”
“Tell you what, I’ll fly into Manassas, too. Meet me there.”
“Okay. Whoever lands first can just wait.”
“Right. Are you armed?”
“You bet your ass.”
“I’m not licensed down there.”
“The rural law tends to look kindly on that sort of thing if you’re licensed anywhere at all.”
“Okay, Ed, I’ll see you when I see you.” They hung up.
Stone buzzed Joan.
“Yes, boss?”
“I’ve got to go somewhere. Please call the airport and have the airplane brought up and refueled, pronto, and tell Fred I need a ride.”
“Will do.”
Stone hung up and went upstairs to pack a bag. Fred drove him to the airport, and he filed a flight plan for Manassas on the way. The airplane was on the ramp when he arrived; he did his usual preflight inspection, then ran through the cockpit checklist and got a clearance. That done, he started the engines, finished his checklist, and got permission to taxi. There were a few corporate jets ahead of him, and it took another half hour to get off the ground.
The flight time was a little over an hour, so he stayed fairly low, at 20,000 feet, instead of climbing to 41,000. It burned more fuel down there, but it saved time on ascent and descent. The weather was clear at both ends, so he anticipated no delays.
55
Jake read one of Rawls’s books for a while but felt antsy. It was nice outside, so he went for a little walk. The first nip of autumn was in the air, and there was a hint of color in the trees around the house.
As he strolled around the ample backyard he noticed a pile of dirt behind the garage. Closer inspection revealed a brand-new propane tank set in the hole, and an old, rusty one on the ground beside it. The new tank appeared to be connected, and the heat was on in the house. A backhoe stood beside the hole. Apparently, the tank had been installed and the backhoe operator had left until the plumber arrived to make the connection.
He strolled on until he came to a barbed-wire fence that seemed to separate Rawls’s property from the farm beyond. A few dairy cattle grazed beyond that. He felt a hunger pang and wished Macher would hurry up.
On his way back, he inspected the garage, found it unlocked and an old Mercedes inside. He thought it would be a good idea to get his own car out of sight, so he moved it into the garage and closed the doors.
—
MACHER WAS NEARLY to the house when his cell rang.
“Yes?”
It was his secretary. “Someone called for you half an hour ago.”
“Who?”
“He said he was a friend, wouldn’t leave a name.”
“If he calls again, give him my cell number.”
“As you wish.” He hung up. That wouldn’t have been the police, since they had already visited, and a client would have given his name. He considered Barrington as a possibility, but dismissed it as being too far-fetched. He drove on toward his destination.
—
STONE GOT THE Manassas automated weather: the wind was from the south at ten knots, so he called the tower and requested runway 16 and set the airplane down there. He rolled out and taxied back to the FBO, expecting Rawls to come out to greet him, but he didn’t show. Probably still in the air.
Inside he requested fuel and hangar space and rented a car. Half an hour later a Cessna 182 rolled up to the FBO, cut its engine, and Rawls got out. Stone met him on the ramp and put his bags into the car, along with his own. Rawls headed inside for the head, then came back and got into the car.
“I’ll need dire
ctions,” Stone said, and Rawls gave them.
“What’s your plan when we get there, Ed?”
“Don’t have one,” Rawls replied. “I don’t think we’ll just walk in, though. Why don’t we stop for a late lunch, then take our time. I’d rather approach the place after dark. If Herman is there, he’ll have a light on.”
“Makes sense.”
Rawls guided Stone to a country restaurant, and they had a leisurely lunch.
“We could pay Lance Cabot a surprise call,” Rawls said. “The Agency is ten minutes from here, and we go right past it.”
“I don’t think Lance and I have anything in particular to say to each other right now.” He told Rawls about Lance’s disinterest in connecting the CIA explosives to Erik Macher.
“That sounds like Lance,” Rawls said. “There was nothing in it for him, so he said no.”
—
MACHER PULLED UP to the house in the late afternoon. He didn’t see Jake’s car, so he approached the house with caution. Jake saw him through a window and opened a door to admit him.
“Where’s your car?” Macher asked.
“I put it in the garage.”
“Is there room for mine?”
“No, Rawls’s car is taking up the other space.”
Macher parked next to the house. “Have you had a look around?”
“Yeah,” Jake said, “I took a walk.”
“Anything unusual going on?”
“There’s a backhoe parked behind the garage, waiting to bury a new propane tank, apparently just installed, so tomorrow somebody might turn up to fill the hole. I don’t think he’ll need to speak to us. Did you bring food?”
“Yep, booze, too. I could use a drink.”
“I could use one, too,” Jake said, “and something to eat.”
They went inside the house, collecting Macher’s bag on the way. Jake saw the explosives in the box in the trunk. “Why did you bring the plastique?”
“I wanted to get it out of the office. The cops have searched it once, but I moved it to a dumpster. You never know when they’ll come back.”
“What did they say about Dan Swenson?”
“That he’s expected to recover.”
“Did they mention the bomb?”
“No.”
“That must mean it didn’t go off. What time were they at the office?”
“They left a little before ten.”
“So the bomb might still have gone off?”
“I don’t think so,” Macher said. “I had the satellite radio news on the whole way down here and there was no mention of it.”
They went into the kitchen, and Jake heated up a can of chili while they sipped a scotch.
—
STONE AND RAWLS cruised slowly past the house as the sun was going down and saw Macher’s Mercedes.
“What does Macher drive?” Ed asked.
“A Mercedes S550, just like that one,” Stone replied.
They drove on past.
56
Stone, directed by Ed Rawls, found a spot to park in some high weeds, within sight of the house. Stone left the satellite radio on a jazz station so they wouldn’t have to talk, but Rawls wanted to talk anyway.
“This is like old times, in my younger days with the Agency,” he said. “Except I would be on my belly in the grass, instead of sitting in a comfortable chair and listening to good jazz from the sky.”
“Did you like those days?” Stone asked, just to keep him going.
“I did,” Rawls replied. “In fact, I loved them. I was serving my country and at the same time, venting my hatred of the Soviets and the harm they were causing in the world. Every time we hurt them I felt genuine satisfaction.”
“What about later, when you were running agents instead of being run?”
“Running others was harder than being run. The only safety I could give them was in the planning. Once they were out in the field, all I could do was worry, and I did.”
“Did many of them not come back?”
“A few. I could name their names and tell you their records, which I memorized. We hardly ever got to bury them. They’re just stars on a wall at Langley, not even their names.”
“You said you’d heard of Macher while you were still in harness. What did you hear?”
“I told you some of it—a propensity for violence, whether called for or not. He’d shoot the opposition if he had the chance. It caused a backlash from the Soviets and the East Germans that did not react to our benefit. For that, I hate the son of a bitch, to this day.”
“Do you mean to kill him tonight?” Stone asked.
“If he gives me an excuse that will work with the cops. I’m not willing to go to jail for it. Are you going to back me?”
“If I can,” Stone replied.
“That’s very reassuring,” Rawls said sarcastically.
“After all, he’s tried to kill me a couple of times—tried hard, too. I just got lucky.”
“I should think that would be reason enough just to put two in his head,” Rawls said. “What does it take to get you riled enough to do something about it?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Stone replied.
“Well, you’d better think on it, because if we get within range of these two, I think we can count on rounds coming our way.”
“That would certainly call for a response,” Stone said.
They sat quietly for a while, waiting for dark.
Rawls finally spoke again, and his voice was without its hard edge. “You know, I’ve known a lot of people in my life—still know a lot of them—but I think you’re the only friend I’ve got.”
“Why do you think that is?” Stone asked, genuinely curious.
“Kate used to be my friend,” Rawls said. “I was her mentor, and I was a good one, too. But when I had my trouble, she took great personal offense, and we weren’t friends anymore.”
Stone knew about that.
“Since that time, you are the only person who has laid it on the line for me, and I want you to know I’m grateful for that.”
“You’re welcome, but let’s not overstate the case.”
“I’m not overstating nothing. Who else would be with me here right now?”
Stone didn’t have an answer for that.
They were silent for a while, and Stone began to doze a bit. Some time later, he wasn’t sure how long, Rawls poked him in the ribs.
“What?” Stone asked.
“A light just went on in the house,” Rawls said. “In my study, I think.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing else.”
“Then that would mean they’re both in your study, wouldn’t it?”
“No,” Rawls said, “that would mean that at least one of them is in my study. The other could be upstairs, asleep, or napping on the living room sofa. Let’s drift down there and see.”
As the car began to move an outdoor light came on behind the house.
—
MACHER GOT UP from the living room sofa, where he had been napping and making decisions. He went to the study door where Jake was reading. “Jake?”
“Yep?”
“Come show me this backhoe out back.”
“What for?”
“I’m curious about something.”
“What?”
“Show me, and I’ll tell you, if it means something.”
Jake put down his book and stood up. “All right, follow me.” He took out a flashlight, led the way to the rear of the house and out the door.
As his foot touched the back steps, Macher turned on the outside light. “Easier to see,” he said.
Jake led the way behind the garage, then switched on his light to illuminate the shadows.
“You know how to run a backhoe, Jake?” Macher asked.
“Yeah, I worked construction summers during college. I can handle most gear. We shouldn’t cover it up, though—somebody will be back to do that.”
“Right.” They were standing on the edge of the pit, looking at the new tank. “Let me have your flashlight for a minute,” Macher said.
“Sure,” Jake said, handing it over.
Macher shot Jake in the back of the head; he crumpled, then fell into the pit, alongside the tank. He was still moving. Macher reached out and put one foot on the tank, his other still on the edge of the pit, straddling Jake. Being careful not to hit the tank, Macher put another round into Jake’s head. He crumpled, relaxed, and fell deeper into the pit, below the tank. If you weren’t looking for it, Macher thought, you wouldn’t see it.
Still, he had to be sure.
—
COASTING DOWN A small hill with the windows down, Stone and Ed heard the first shot and saw the flash from the rear of the garage, then they heard the second shot.
“Somebody’s in that pit with my new propane tank,” Rawls said.
“Pit?”
“I ordered a new tank. The plumber has hooked it up, but they haven’t finished the job yet. The hole still has to be filled.”
“Which one do you think is in the pit?” Stone asked.
“It would be unlike Macher to be,” Ed replied.
—
USING JAKE’S FLASHLIGHT, Macher found a shovel. He holstered his weapon, held the flashlight in his teeth, and began shoveling dirt into the crevice where Jake’s body lay. It only took a few shovelfuls to make the body invisible. He returned the shovel to its original position and trudged back toward the house.
He needed a night’s sleep before he returned to Arlington. He was relieved to have Jake out of the way; it left him in the clear, and the trail from the New York incident would stop with Jake. They might have their suspicions, but they wouldn’t have the evidence. He would send someone in a day or two to pick up Jake’s company car.
57
Stone had passed the house, now. He made a U-turn, and Ed told him to park in the weeds again.
“He’s going to need sleep,” Ed said. “Let’s let him settle in awhile.”
“And then what?” Stone asked.
“Then we can capture us a murderer,” Ed replied. “Whichever one it is, then we call the cops.”
“You’re still making this up as you go along, aren’t you?” Stone asked.
“Yep. Let’s get a little sleep ourselves.” He laid his head against the seat back and seemed instantly asleep.
