Collateral Damage

by Stuart Woods

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” the director said. She opened a New York Times and read until they were over New York City. Moments later they were exiting the chopper and climbing into a black SUV.

  “Have you been to the New York station before?”

  “No, ma’am, I’ve only been to the city twice before.”

  Kate Lee nodded and answered her cell phone.

  —

  Holly’s phone rang. “Holly Barker.”

  “This is security. The director and your secretary are on the way up.”

  “Thank you.” She hung up. “They’re here,” she said to Stone.

  A moment later the two women bustled into the office. “Hey, I like this,” Kate Lee said. “Hi, Stone.”

  “Hello, Director.”

  “Did you enjoy this morning’s meeting?”

  “It was enlightening,” Stone replied. “Are you staying overnight?”

  “Maybe.”

  “May we take you to dinner?”

  “I’d like that. Let me check in with the White House and see what my schedule there is like.”

  Holly showed Scotty her office and the kitchenette.

  “I’ll make coffee,” Scotty said.

  Kate flopped down in a chair in Holly’s comfortable sitting area. “I’ve been on the phone with the director of the FBI,” she said. “They’re terribly upset over there about the expansion of our charter.”

  “I got that impression from the AIC,” Holly said.

  “I know that man, and he’s an ignoranus,” Kate said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “He’s both stupid and an asshole.”

  Holly and Stone erupted in laughter. “I couldn’t have characterized him better,” Holly said, when she had control of herself again.

  “Appear to be cooperating with the Bureau,” Kate said, “but don’t let it get in your way. Any news?”

  “Yes, the commissioner has turned out all the students at the police academy and has them papering the West Side with flyers.”

  “What a great idea! I like that man.” Her cell phone rang, and she answered it. “Hello, darling,” she said. “I mean, hello, Mr. President. Yes, good flight. I’m with Holly and Stone. They’ve asked me to dinner. You need me this evening? Not for that, dummy, do we have a state dinner or anything? Good, then I’ll stay over. At the Carlyle. The Secret Service likes it. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” She hung up. “I guess we’re on for dinner. I warn you, it’ll be a production—the Secret Service will be all over it.”

  “It’ll be just the three of us,” Stone said, “so why don’t we dine at my house? I’ve got a wonderful cook, and there’s already Agency security on the place.”

  “Sounds great. Nothing fancy, I hope.”

  “We’ll dine in the kitchen. And I’ll invite Mike Freeman, if you like.”

  “Wonderful! Scotty, will you let my Secret Service detail know that I’m dining at Mr. Barrington’s tonight?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Scotty said. “I have the address.” She stepped out into the hallway for a moment, then came back with an agent.

  “Mr. Barrington,” the man said, “may we have a look at your home this afternoon?”

  “Of course. My secretary, Joan Robertson, is there, and so is the housekeeper. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

  “I’ll be staying at the Carlyle tonight,” Kate said to the man. “Will you let them know?”

  “You’re welcome to stay at my house,” Stone said.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got clothes and stuff at the Carlyle. What time?”

  “Drinks at seven?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Is there anybody you’d like to ask?”

  “No, let’s keep it small, it’ll be more fun.”

  Stone excused himself and stepped away, digging out his cell phone.

  “Woodman & Weld,” Joan said.

  “Hi, it’s me. Will you let Helene know we’ll be four for dinner this evening? Oh, and invite Mike Freeman. Drinks at seven. Adjust the numbers, if he’s bringing someone.”

  “Of course. Do you want anything special?”

  “Tell her to cook Greek. It’s what she loves most, and tell her our guest is the first lady.”

  “Omigod! Are you sure you want her to know?”

  “Maybe you’re right, we’ll surprise her, but you can tell Mike.”

  “I think that’s best. What time?”

  “Drinks at seven, in the garden. The Secret Service will be calling on you shortly, so give them a look around. Have them look at the garden, too. We can dine out there, if they approve.”

  “Okay.”

  “Any calls?”

  “Nothing you’d want to hear about.”

  Stone laughed. “Okay, you can deal with those.” He hung up.

  “We’re all set,” he said to Kate.

  “I’m sorry about all the Secret Service stuff. I know it’s a pain in the ass.”

  “Not in the least. I’m happy to have the extra security in these troubled times.”

  “Wait until you taste Helene’s cooking,” Holly said.

  “I feel a weight gain coming on,” Kate replied.

  Stone had Helene put a couple of extra chairs at the banquette in the big kitchen, and told her to use a linen tablecloth.

  “Anybody I know coming, Mr. Stone?” Helene asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe. Mr. Freeman will be here—he loves your cooking.”

  Helene blushed.

  Stone went upstairs and sat in his study while Holly changed for dinner. At a quarter to seven, the front doorbell rang. He picked up the phone: “Yes?”

  “Hi, Stone, it’s Mike. I’m early, I know. Will you let these guys in the SUV know not to shoot me?”

  “Sure, Mike, I’ll buzz you in. I’m in the study.” Stone called the phone in the car and eased the minds of the two Agency security men.

  Mike made his way to the study, and Stone poured him a drink. “Have a seat, Mike. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to talk with you about something, and this seems like a good time.”

  “Sure.”

  “It occurs to me that, since Kate Lee has only a few months left in office, it might be good if we asked her to join the Strategic Services board.”

  “What a good idea!”

  “Do you think she’d consider it?”

  Holly spoke up from the doorway. “I think she’d jump at it.” She poured herself a drink, allowed Mike to peck her on the cheek, and sat down.

  “Why jump?” Mike asked.

  “I think she’s nervous about having enough to do when the president has left office. I know for a fact that she doesn’t want to spend a lot of time on his family cattle farm. She has a horror of anything agricultural.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Mike said.

  “And,” Holly continued, “it would give her an excuse to spend some time in New York. She likes it here, and so does her husband.”

  “Then I’ll broach the subject,” Mike said. “There’s something else: I had lunch with the AIC of the New York FBI office today, and we tiptoed around the subject of Jasmine Shazaz and her friends.”

  “Oh?” Holly asked. “Anything I should know about?”

  “Nothing specific, but he gave me the impression that he wasn’t much interested in cooperating with your people and the NYPD in the hunt. The Bureau has always been a credit hog, and I think they would prefer not to share it with anybody in this instance.”

  “Did he give you any indication of what his plan is?”

  “Only that they’re bringing in something like fifty more agents to work on it.”

  Stone spoke up. “I’ll bet they won’t be distributing flyers on the West Side.”

  “Anything else?” Holly asked.

  “Only that, in my opinion, the AIC would do anything he could think of to derail your efforts in his favor. Did you see the piece in The New York Times Magazine about the Bureau’s bu
mbling in intelligence matters over the years?”

  “I did. Bumbling seems to be a tradition at the Bureau.”

  The doorbell rang, and Stone picked up the phone. “Yes?”

  “This is Special Agent Carmichael with the Secret Service,” a male voice said. “The director will arrive in two minutes.”

  “Thank you,” Stone said. “I’ll be right down to meet her. Did you identify yourself to the two men in the black SUV?”

  “They insisted,” the man replied.

  Stone laughed and hung up. “She’s on her way. I’ll bring her here,” he said. “Sit tight.” He walked to the front door and arrived in time to see the car pull up outside. It had begun to drizzle, and the agent held an umbrella for her as she exited the car.

  She ran up the steps, came inside, and gave Stone a kiss on the cheek. “What a handsome house,” she said, looking around the living room.

  Stone hung up her raincoat. “Thank you. It was built by my great-aunt, my grandmother’s sister, and my father did all the woodwork and much of the furniture.”

  “He was very, very good,” she said.

  “Holly and Mike are in my study. Come this way.” He led her into the smaller room and, while she greeted Mike and Holly, poured her a bourbon.

  She flopped down on the sofa and took a sip of her drink. “This is fun already,” she said. “Will and I don’t get that many opportunities to dine in someone else’s home, unless it’s a grand occasion.”

  “You’re very welcome here,” Stone said. “I’m sorry the president couldn’t join us.”

  “He’s speaking to the Security Council at the U.N. tomorrow morning, so he’s on the way up from Washington now,” Kate replied. “He won’t be able to make dinner, but he said he might stop in for a drink later.”

  “That would be wonderful. Kate, before we go down for dinner, Mike would like to speak with you about something.”

  “Of course,” she said, taking another sip of her bourbon.

  “Mrs. Lee …”

  “Kate, please, Mike.”

  “Kate. It has occurred to me that you’re going to be retiring from government service in the not-too-distant future.”

  “The Constitution insists that Will retire, and I pretty much have to go with him.”

  “Well, perhaps we can find a way to keep you from being bored after you are a private citizen again.”

  “Oh, good! I’ve been worried about that.”

  “Stone and I would like it very much if you would consider joining the board of Strategic Services.”

  “What an interesting idea,” she replied. “What would that entail?”

  “We meet more often than some boards, on the first Monday of each month, except August, when everybody seems to be out of town. Since we work our board pretty hard, the pay is twenty-five thousand per meeting, but you’re certainly not required to make every one.”

  “Just when I need the money?”

  Mike laughed. “If you’re feeling flush, you can miss some meetings, but we’d like to see you there as often as possible.”

  “Mike, you understand that, even after I leave the Agency, I’ll be under very tight strictures about what I can discuss.”

  “We’re more interested in the experience you’ve acquired and in your judgment,” Mike said. “And, though we like gossip as much as anyone, we’re not interested in official secrets.”

  “That makes your offer very attractive indeed,” Kate said. “I’ll have to discuss it with Will, of course, but he likes New York as much as I do.”

  “I know you have a great deal on your plate between now and retirement, so I don’t expect an immediate answer.”

  “Thank you. I’ll think about it when I can.”

  The phone buzzed. “That’s Helene,” Stone said, “telling us to come to dinner.”

  They dined and drank wine and talked and laughed, and not once did anyone bring up the Agency, the White House, or Jasmine Shazaz.

  “I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun,” Kate said, as Stone poured her more wine. “It’s such a relief not to have to keep up appearances, for fear of what will be in the columns the next morning.”

  “This is a leakproof environment,” Stone said, “and you’re welcome anytime.”

  “It looks like you folks are having way too much fun,” said a voice from the door to the kitchen. Will Lee came in and pulled up an extra chair.

  “Good evening, Mr. President,” Stone said.

  “It’s just Will in this company,” he replied, accepting a glass of wine.

  “Will,” Kate said, “I’ve had a job offer.”

  “You already have a job,” he said. “Doesn’t it keep you busy enough?”

  “It will until next January,” she said. “Then I’ll be at loose ends.”

  “What’s the job?”

  “Mike and Stone have asked me to join the board of Strategic Services.”

  “Have they, now?” Will said, frowning a little.

  “They have, and unless you can cough up some substantive reason why I shouldn’t, I’m going to accept.”

  “Well, it’s usually presidents who join boards in the afterlife, but I don’t think there’s any law against a first lady doing the same.”

  “Any personal objections?”

  “If there were, I wouldn’t air them here.”

  “I’m sorry,” she giggled. “I have wine taken, and I’m a little giddy.”

  “You need to be giddy more often,” Will said.

  “In time.”

  “Take the offer,” he said, “but all of you, not a word to anyone until we’re well out of office. I think next spring might be a good time for an announcement.”

  “May I tell the other members of the board?” Mike asked.

  “You may not. It will be a nice surprise for them.” Will turned to his wife. “Well, we have an excuse to keep the apartment at the Carlyle instead of looking for something cheaper.”

  “I’ll pick up the maintenance on the place,” Kate said.

  “I may take you up on that,” Will said. He raised his glass. “Congratulations to all of you.”

  —

  A car pulled up in front of a shop in Soho, and Habib got out and rapped on the glass door. It was unlocked by a woman, and Habib went back to the car and opened the door for Jasmine, who ran inside.

  “I’ll park the car,” Habib said, then left. “I’ll be back in … how long?”

  “That depends on what you wish done,” the woman said. She was of Middle Eastern extraction, tall, with long black hair pulled up in a bun.

  “Shampoo, cut, coloring,” Jasmine said.

  “Two hours,” the woman said to Habib, who left, closing the door behind him.

  “My name is Sheba,” the woman said, locking the door. “Please come through.”

  They left the handsome reception room and went into the rear of the building, where hairdressers’ booths were set up, then through a door off the larger room. “This is my private room,” Sheba said, waving her to the chair. “Let’s talk about what you need.” She stood behind Jasmine and looked at her in the mirror while she talked.

  “I want it shorter, but not too short,” Jasmine said. “Do you think I have the skin for blond hair?”

  “I have the perfect blond shade for your skin,” Sheba replied. “With blonder highlights. You’ll love it.”

  “I’m in your hands, then,” Jasmine said.

  “Come, let me wash your hair.”

  Jasmine moved to the other chair and lay back, resting her neck on the shaped edge of the sink while Sheba gently shampooed and rinsed her hair.

  Sheba dried it with a towel, then moved her client back to the other chair and began to cut it quickly, shaping as she went. Finally, she stopped. “How’s that for length?” she asked.

  “Excellent,” Jasmine replied.

  “Now let’s begin on the color.”

  —

  The president looked at his watch. �
�Good God!”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun,” Kate said.

  “I was going to read through my speech again before bedtime,” Will said, “but the hell with it. It can wait until breakfast.” He got to his feet.

  “Thanks so much for keeping my wife off the streets,” he said, “and for the promise of work for her later. I’ve always told her she’d have to support me in my old age.”

  “We’re looking forward to having her aboard,” Mike said.

  “And I was looking forward to having her to myself,” Will said. “So much for that.”

  “Oh, I think I can work you into my schedule,” Kate said. They walked up the stairs, and Will produced a cell phone and pressed a button. “Now,” he said.

  Stone opened the front door and looked up and down the block. All was quiet, only a couple of Secret Service men standing by. Then, from around a corner, a procession of four black SUVs drove slowly into the block and stopped.

  Everybody shook hands with Will and kissed Kate, and they were gone.

  “Come on back to the study for a brandy,” Stone said.

  “You two boys besot yourselves,” Holly said. “I’m hitting the sack—nothing but big days ahead.” She disappeared into the elevator.

  Stone and Mike went back to the study and found cognac.

  “Well, that was a surprise,” Mike said, “Kate’s blurting it out like that. I thought she’d take weeks to think it over.”

  “She knows her husband very well,” Stone said. “She took the moment.”

  “I’m delighted she did.”

  “So am I. She’s a remarkable person, and she’ll fit right into the board.”

  “I’m going to go after Holly, too,” Mike said. “But for an executive position, not the board, and not just yet.”

  “You won’t get an argument from me,” Stone said, “and I think she’ll want it. When Kate goes, she’ll be adrift in the Agency. She doesn’t have the stature yet to be director, and the alternative is to go back to work for Lance Cabot again, and she’s been there, done that.”

  “Pretty much what I figured,” Mike said, raising his glass.

  —

  Jasmine sat in the chair and looked at her new hairstyle and color. “It’s perfect,” she said.

  “Perfection is what we deal in,” Sheba replied. “The change in the eyebrows will help give you a new appearance, too. As it is, you look nothing like the person in the flyers that are all over town.”