Hush-Hush

by Stuart Woods

  He stepped onto the floating dock, then went back to the van, started it, and drove it slowly down the ramp to the floating pontoon. The tide was high, so there wasn’t much of a slant. He drove the van onto the personnel carrier and set the brakes, leaving the gates open and the ramp down. He rolled both front windows all the way down, cast off the aft lines, then went forward to the driver’s seat.

  It was dark now. He looked around and saw no moving traffic in sight, then he put the engines into gear, and, at idle speed, moved it away from his dock and, slowly, out into Penobscot Bay, watching his depth sounder. At ninety feet of depth he took the engines out of gear and walked back to the van. He got the driver’s door open wide enough to reach the controls, then he started the engine and put it in reverse, then hopped out and helped it along with a push. The vehicle rolled back, its weight tilting the carrier a good ten degrees. It was a front-wheel-drive vehicle, and it kept moving until it left the carrier and began to float. Rawls stood and watched it. It stayed afloat until enough water leaked through the frame to sink to the level of the windowsills. Once the water reached the sills, it began to pour into the van, and it sank fairly quickly. Shortly, it disappeared and the water became smooth again.

  Rawls pulled in the ramp, closed the gates, and got back behind the wheel. Soon the carrier was tucked safely back in the boathouse, where he secured it, then went back to the house.

  For dinner, he finished the ice cream. Once he wasn’t hungry anymore, he checked the contents of the two men’s pockets and found that they had been carrying five thousand dollars each, in hundreds. Plus they had a few hundred they must have had before they were hired.

  He checked out the passports carefully, decided he had no need of them, and burned them to ash in the fireplace. Then he inspected the weapons carefully. They were both attractive, but he thought they might have been used previously, and he decided to put them into the bay the following morning.

  Then, tired from his efforts, Rawls went to bed.

  * * *

  —

  The following morning, his secure cell phone rang.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Jim. I wanted to see if you were still alive.”

  “I am, but the plumbers weren’t so lucky.”

  “Did you clean up after them?”

  “Of course.” He told Jim about the passports.

  “They probably used the U.S. ones to get into the country, but I think they would be dangerous to use again.”

  “I figured and took the proper steps.”

  “The plumbers were almost certainly Russian. I think that, when they don’t report in, replacements will be sent to visit you.”

  “Then they’ll meet the same fate.”

  “Then they’ll send lots more. We think you should find a safe location for a while, preferably out of the country.”

  “That may be good advice.”

  “We can check the temperature from time to time and let you know when it’s all right to return home.”

  “Good.”

  “Would you like the chopper to take you someplace near an international airport?”

  “I would.”

  “It’s not far away, and we can have it at 57 Bravo in, say, three quarters of an hour?”

  “I’ll be waiting for it.”

  “I’d suggest Teterboro; it won’t be noticed there, and it’s a cab ride to Newark or JFK.”

  “Teterboro is fine.”

  “Bon voyage.” Jim hung up.

  Ed starting packing his bags. The Russians’ dollars would do him for walking-around money. He called a cab and opened the gate, then took the weapons down to the dock and flung them as far as he could.

  He was all locked up and waiting on his porch when the cab arrived.

  24

  Rawls stood on the airstrip’s ramp, awaiting the helicopter. He got out his secure iPhone and made a call.

  “Ed? That you?” Stone asked.

  “It is, though others didn’t intend it to be so.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Double trouble. Problem solved, but I’ve had strong advice to beat it. I know you have some property abroad. Can you put me up somewhere? I don’t much mind where.”

  “I can offer you London—Belgravia—my house down in the country, on the Beaulieu River. Or Paris, off the Boulevard Saint-Germain.”

  “The English countryside sounds nice.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Waiting for a chopper at 57 Bravo, bound for Teterboro.”

  “I’ll call you back shortly.”

  * * *

  —

  Stone called Mike Freeman at Strategic Services. “What’s up?” Mike asked.

  “Have you got an airplane headed for England or northern Europe anytime soon?”

  “I’ve got some people headed for London tomorrow morning. Wheels up at eight am.”

  “That will work for my friend. His name is Ed Rawls.”

  “That Ed Rawls?”

  “One and the same. He’s been doing some freelancing for Langley, and it came back to bite him on the ass. He needs to get out.”

  “We’ll be glad to have him,” Mike said.

  “I’ll tell him to get a room nearby and to be there early tomorrow.”

  “Is somebody looking for him?”

  “Could be.”

  “We’ve got two little apartments for crew in our hangar. He’s welcome to one for the night. He can board the plane from inside tomorrow morning. Would it be helpful if we dropped him at your airstrip?”

  “Perfect. I owe you yet another one.”

  The two men hung up and Stone called Rawls back. “Yeah?”

  “At Teterboro, go to Jet Aviation and ask the front desk where the Strategic Services hangar is. Get a cart over there and give your name to the manager of their flight department, whose name is Gary. He’ll put you up for the night, then on the airplane in the hangar tomorrow morning, wheels up at eight. They’ll land at my airstrip at the house, then continue to their destination. You’ll be met at the strip by my property manager, Major Bugg, and the housekeeper will see to your needs. Stay as long as you like. Give me a call to let me know you made it.”

  “Got it. Thanks very much, Stone. Listen, I don’t have any reason to think anybody’s looking for you, but I didn’t think anybody was looking for me, either, until they showed up. My advice is to watch your ass.”

  They hung up, and Rawls could hear the chop of the helicopter rotor coming. A couple of minutes later he had tossed his bags into the chopper and it was climbing out of Islesboro.

  * * *

  —

  At Teterboro he was driven to the Strategic Services hangar in an electric cart, and there Gary met him and sent him up a flight of stairs, where he would have a view of a half dozen airplanes in the hangar.

  Gary pointed at the biggest airplane. “Board the G-600 over there at seven-thirty; you’ll have breakfast and lunch aboard. What do you eat for breakfast and what newspaper do you read?

  “Scrambled eggs and sausages, and the Times will do just fine.”

  A groundsman took his bags and led him up the stairs to a snug sitting room and bedroom, with lots of airplane memorabilia scattered about. “Bathroom’s in there,” the man said, pointing. “I’ve been told to tell you that you shouldn’t take any firearms. If you’ve got ’em, leave them with Gary for safekeeping. Customs from Southampton Airport will meet you on the Barrington strip. There’s customs forms in the desk there. If you’re carrying more than five grand in cash or negotiable instruments, you’ll need to fill out one and hand it to the crew when you board, along with your passport.”

  “Gotcha,” Rawls replied, and the man left him alone.

  He turned on the TV to CNN and settled into a reclining chair, with his 9mm o
n the table next to him.

  * * *

  —

  Stone hung up the phone and turned to Rocky. “Feel like a trip to England?”

  “On your airplane?”

  “On one even nicer.”

  “Sure.”

  “Somebody had a go at Ed Rawls, and he suggested we take a trip.” He called Mike Freeman and signed them up.

  “Your life is so much more interesting than mine,” she said. “I’d better call my people and let them know our plans.”

  “Wait until we’re in England, and present them with a fait accompli.”

  * * *

  —

  Rawls had just been relieved of his 9mm and seated on the G-600, when Stone Barrington and Rocky Hardwick appeared and joined him.

  “We decided to take your advice,” Stone said.

  “Glad to have you aboard.”

  The hangar doors were opened, and the airplane began to be towed by a tractor. They were disconnected on the ramp, and several other people boarded the airplane.

  “Those are Strategic Services people,” Stone explained. “We’re their guests.”

  A stewardess approached. “You might be more comfortable in the aft cabin,” she said to them. “This crowd can get noisy after a couple of drinks.”

  They followed her to the aft cabin, which was peaceful with the door closed. The engines started, and shortly the airplane began to taxi.

  * * *

  —

  It was still daylight in the early evening when they set down on the strip at Windward Hall and were met by Major Bugg in a large golf cart. Rocky and Rawls were introduced. Customs was a formality.

  “How long is the strip?” Rawls asked.

  “Seven thousand feet,” Stone replied.

  “What the hell is it doing here?”

  “It was built during the Second World War, when the RAF requisitioned the property for the duration. The intelligence services used it for light-aircraft air drops—weapons and operatives, in France and northern Europe. When the war was over and the family got the estate back, the strip was in good shape, and they kept it that way. Lucky for me.”

  Rawls was shown to a handsome room and told that dinner would be served in an hour in the library, drinks in thirty minutes.

  * * *

  —

  They met, refreshed, in the library. “Stone,” Rawls said, sipping a single malt Scotch, “This is very beautiful.”

  “It came my way through the good offices of Felicity Devonshire,” Stone said. “She is currently the director of MI6, and she has a house across the river,” he explained to Rocky.

  “I remember her well and fondly,” Rawls said.

  “Is there anything you need for your stay?”

  “Are there any weapons here?”

  Stone pointed to a corner of the room. “There’s a rack concealed there, and there is a matched pair of Purdey 12-bores and shells here. Treat them nicely.”

  “I hope I won’t need them,” Rawls said.

  25

  After a dinner of roast pork and a fine claret, they gathered around the fireplace for brandy.

  “Have you reported in?” Stone asked Rawls.

  “I don’t report,” Rawls replied. “It’s safer that way.”

  “Have you any idea how those plumbers found you at home?”

  “One or two, neither of them very convincing or attractive.”

  “Do you think the Russians have somebody on the inside at the Agency?”

  “Have you told anybody there about coming to England?”

  “No,” Stone said, “but Rocky will report in tomorrow.”

  “Rocky,” Rawls said, “can you avoid that without getting into trouble?”

  “It’s easily avoided,” Rocky said. “I just won’t make the call. Trouble might happen later, but I’ll have a good excuse.”

  “Their having somebody on the inside is the least attractive of my ideas, but if it’s valid, then none of us should talk to anybody. That’s not to say they can’t track us down, if they’re willing to spend money and staff time.”

  “Well,” Stone said, “it’s too late to pull the cards on our cell phones. The computer will already have located all three of us.”

  “Yeah,” Rawls replied, “but if they have somebody inside, he won’t necessarily have access to that computer; he could just be listening to conversations. Stone, do you have any private security here?”

  “Not on a standing basis, but Mike Freeman could have people here by morning, if I ask.”

  “Who pays for that?”

  “I do. But I can try to get Lance to go for it later, if events prove that it was necessary.”

  “Well,” Rawls said, “if I had your money, I’d call Mike Freeman.”

  Stone left the room and did so, then returned. “There’ll be six people here by breakfast, and they’ll work round the clock.”

  “Then I’ll feel better by breakfast. How do you entertain yourself here?”

  “Unless you’d like to invite somebody, there’s reading, skeet shooting, riding, and television,” Stone replied. “We get U.S., British, and European satellite services.”

  “That should keep me in old movies,” Rawls said. He stood up. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go sleep off some jet lag. It’s a beautiful room, by the way. Thanks.” He polished off his brandy and left the room.

  “And now what will we do?” Rocky asked.

  “I don’t know,” Stone replied, “but let’s do it upstairs.”

  “Good idea.”

  26

  The three did not meet again until lunch, which they had in the garden.

  “What did you two do this morning?” Rawls asked.

  “Well,” Stone said, “first, I spoke to Lance.”

  “You called him? Was that a good idea?”

  “He called me.”

  “He knows where we are?”

  “He claims to,” Stone replied. “We’ll know for sure around cocktail time.”

  “Why then?”

  “Because that’s when Lance will arrive, if he knows where we are.”

  “Where’s your money on that bet?”

  “On Lance,” Stone said.

  “So, he’s using the resources of the Agency to track you?”

  “I think that’s a safe bet.”

  “Were you using your secure cell phone?”

  “That’s the number he called me on.”

  “In theory, Lance shouldn’t be able to track that phone.”

  “I don’t think Lance subscribes to that theory.”

  “Ed,” Rocky interjected, “do you think Lance would give a phone he couldn’t track to one of his own people?”

  “Point won,” Rawls said. “So, what did you do after you talked to Lance?”

  “I called Felicity Devonshire and invited her to dinner.”

  “She’s good company.”

  “She is. More important, both she and Lance would be offended if we had only one other woman seated. I’ve been trying to think of one to offset you, but nothing so far.”

  “Perhaps I can help you out with that,” Rawls said.

  “Are you acquainted with a woman within dinner distance?”

  “I am, if she can stay overnight?”

  “In your room?”

  “That remains to be negotiated,” Rawls said.

  “We can accommodate her, whether you win or lose.”

  “I’ll call her,” Rawls said, rising and producing his phone. He walked some distance from their table, made a call, and returned. “She’ll be here at five, to give her time to freshen up.”

  “Tell us about her,” Stone said.

  “Her name is Sarah Deerfield—Dame Sarah, since her recent retir
ement as chief of the Metropolitan Police, in London. I think I’ll let you discover the rest directly from the source.”

  “As you wish,” Stone said. “We’ll give her the room next to yours, so there’ll be less distance to negotiate. Oh, I should have told you: we’ll be black tie; you might let your dame know.”

  “Will do. I didn’t bring a tuxedo, but I happen to have a black suit and a tuxedo shirt.”

  “That will do nicely.”

  “Did you two leave the house this morning?” Rawls said.

  “Yes, we went for a ride. Do you ride, Ed?”

  “Well, starting when I was fifteen, I spent three summers on a Wyoming ranch, and I learned to cowboy.”

  “Well, this afternoon, pick yourself out a horse. I believe we even have some western tack, if you prefer it.”

  “I’ll wait to see if Sarah will join me tomorrow. And I can handle English tack, thank you, though I wouldn’t like to do any roping with it.”

  “We shot skeet this morning, Ed, after our ride,” Rocky said, finally answering his question. “Didn’t you hear the gunfire?”

  “I would expect to hear some gunfire on an English estate, so the sound of shotguns doesn’t disturb me, unless they’re sawn-off.”

  “Don’t shoot skeet with Rocky,” Stone said. “She doesn’t miss. It gets to be boring after a while.”

  “Well, you missed only once,” she said.

  “I always miss the first pigeon, then I get better.”

  * * *

  —

  Stone was at the airstrip with the golf cart at half past five, already dressed for dinner. He had been there less than a minute when he spotted a private jet turning onto final approach. Shortly, it was on the ground, and Stone identified it as a Citation Longitude, the biggest Cessna currently being manufactured. He glanced toward the house and saw a Range Rover pull up and disgorge a woman dressed in a tight sweater, tight jeans, and cowboy boots. She was led into the house. Not what he had expected of a dame. He turned his attention back to the airplane. It should not have surprised him to see Lance step off the airplane already in black tie, too. His luggage was loaded onto the cart, and they drove up to the house.