by Stuart Woods
“Colonel . . . ?”
“Please call me Philip, all my equals do. My inferiors and superiors call me Colonel.”
Stone was pleased to be thought of as the man’s equal, though he was not sure that was true. “Philip, I’m a former homicide detective with the New York Police Department, and I can assure that the work of both Inspector Holmes and the ME was properly conducted.”
“Thank you. I made a couple of phone calls on the way down here, and, as a result, I have some information on the likely killers.” He repeated largely what Stone already knew.
“What were your sources for this information?”
“The Metropolitan Police and an elite unit of your CIA, known as the Pod.”
Stone smiled. “The recently retired chief of the Metropolitan Police dined here last evening, and a member of the Pod is upstairs, either sleeping or dressing.”
“Ah, Dame Sally!” Charter said. “Quite a dish, isn’t she?”
“Quite.”
“And the other?”
“Her name is Rocky Hardwick. Her chief, Lance Cabot, is also upstairs, but he may prefer not to make an appearance. In any case, he knew nothing about this Greek fellow. He’s still awaiting the result of a search of his dead files. Also, Dame Felicity Devonshire was here for dinner and knew nothing more than the name, no details.”
“Makes you wonder what these intelligence people do with their time, doesn’t it?”
“In their favor, the subject is a rather obscure figure.”
“I’ll give them that. I intend to know everything there is to know about him and his before I’m finished.”
“Our presence here is the direct result of their attempts on my life,” Stone said, “so I will be happy to hear of anything bad that happens to them.”
Charter smiled, the first time he had done so. “If you don’t mind, I will accept your invitation to breakfast.”
Stone rang for the butler and they gave their orders.
* * *
—
What is your background?” Charter asked over his omelet.
“New York University, the law school there, and fourteen years with the NYPD. I was invalided out after a bullet to the knee, though that was more of an excuse than a cause. I’ve practiced law since then with the New York firm of Woodman & Weld. What about you?”
“Eton, Sandhurst, the Army; that’s it, until I got a call from Mike Freeman one day, shortly after I retired. As it turned out, I wasn’t retired for long.”
“Mike is a good man. I’ve served as his corporate counsel and now, for some years, on his board. We’ve partnered in some investments, too.”
“Those are good credentials. I’m glad not to be dealing with some corporate type.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever thought me that,” Stone replied.
* * *
—
Rocky entered the room and was invited to join them.
Stone introduced Colonel Charter.
“I had breakfast in bed, but I’ll have another cup of coffee,” she said. “Colonel, I’m told you’ve been in touch with some of my people.”
“I have, and they were very helpful. Please call me Philip, and I’ll call you Rocky, if I may.”
“Of course.”
“Is your name short for something?”
“Roxanne, which I despise.”
Inspector Holmes entered and was asked to join them.
“I’m afraid I have work to do,” he said. “Colonel, is there a family I should contact?”
“Our company is his family,” Charter replied.
“And what disposition of his remains do you wish?”
“The military hospital at Sandhurst; I’ve already made the arrangements.”
“Of course. I’ll be off then. Gentlemen. Ms. Hardwick.” He departed.
“He doesn’t appear to be an oaf,” Charter said.
“Don’t underestimate him,” Stone replied.
“I’ll remember. I’ve got another four men arriving shortly,” he said.
“In light of what’s happened,” Stone said, “we can use them.”
“Once I’ve briefed and made disposition of them, my work here will be done. I’ll go back to London and start pursuing the Greek.”
“I’d like your opinion on whether we should remain at this house, or move, in the circumstances.”
“I understand you have other houses,” Charter said, “but I don’t have an opinion on whether you’d be safer here or at one of them.”
“Then I think we’ll stay on for a bit longer,” Stone said.
“Is there anything you need that I can provide?”
“Perhaps some handguns, and a long rifle or two.”
“I’ll have my men see to that and provide ammunition, as well.”
“I think we’ll feel safer armed,” Stone said.
“One usually does, doesn’t one?”
30
Charter went out to meet with his men, leaving Stone and Rocky alone.
“Heard anything from Lance this morning?” she asked.
“I never know whether Lance is breakfasting in bed, sleeping, or working,” Stone replied. “When he’s staying with us he generally turns up around lunchtime.”
To his surprise, Lance entered the room, dressed in tweeds, flannels, and a shirt open at the neck, a walking statement of informality.
“Good morning,” Lance said, then sat down, shook out a napkin, and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Did you sleep well?” Stone asked.
“No,” Lance replied. “I was awakened in the middle of the night by people from my office.”
“That must have been important,” Stone said.
“I must ask both of you not to use your Agency cell phones. Also, please remove the data card from each.”
“Are we being tracked?” Rocky asked.
“Worse than that,” Lance replied, then went silent.
Stone figured he’d tell them when he was ready and left him alone. So did Rocky.
“Lovely day out there,” Lance said. “Perhaps I’ll take a walk before lunch.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t,” Stone said. “Have you heard about our fatality?”
Lance put down his coffee cup and stared at Stone. “What?”
Stone had forgotten that Lance preferred delivering news to receiving it from others. “One of our security team: shot with a small-caliber weapon, probably silenced, then his throat cut, unnecessarily.” Quickly Stone summarized the rest of the morning—the appearance of Colonel Charter and Inspector Holmes, and the advice and resources he’d gained from Charter.
“This is what comes of turning off my cell phone,” Lance said, as if he had caused the murder to happen.
Stone remembered that he had been told to disable his own phone, and he did so. Rocky followed.
“Now we’re deaf,” she said.
“May we use the landline?” Stone asked.
“How many lines do you have?” Lance asked.
“Six, I think.”
“Please ask Major Bugg to order two new lines to be installed today. Keep the phone numbers secret from anyone but Major Bugg and us.”
“Do you think our lines are tapped?” Stone asked.
“It’s a reasonable assumption,” Lance said. “I can only hope that they’re not tapped at the exchange, or the new one will be worthless.”
“I can ask the police to help with that,” Stone said.
“Please do so,” Lance replied. “And I should tell you, Stone, that henceforth you and Ed are not to be regarded as the only potential victims. I’ve been given to understand that the Greek dispenses revenge with a broad brush, so none of us is safe. We should travel, if we must, in pairs, and be armed at all times. I’ll
help myself from the small armory provided by Colonel Charter.”
“I take it you know the Colonel?”
“Better than I wish to,” Lance replied. “He’s a good fellow, but an unpredictable one. And having lost a man, there’s no telling what steps he might take.”
“He gave me that impression,” Stone said. “I think someone out there can look forward to having his throat cut.”
“Indeed,” Lance replied.
“I’d better speak to Major Bugg about the phones,” Stone said, rising, but was stopped by the entrance of that gentleman, who greeted them all.
“Major,” Stone said, “we’re going to require a new telephone line—make that two—at the earliest possible moment, the numbers to be a closely held secret.”
Bugg nodded and tapped his ear, questioningly. Stone nodded, then held up his cell phone and made a cutting motion across his neck with a finger.
Bugg turned to leave. “Ask for Holmes’s help with the exchange, if needed,” Stone called to him before he closed the door.
“I need a place somewhere in the house where I can work,” Lance said.
Stone nodded. “My son and his partner made a film here shortly after I bought the place. We made a suite of offices for their use, well-equipped, on the lowest level, southeastern corner. It’s all still there, in case they ever come back. There’s a multi-line phone system; ask Bugg to dedicate a line for your use.”
“Right.” Lance stood.
“What about our ordinary cell phones; are they usable?”
“Perhaps, but only for mundane purposes. Yield no information, certainly not about our location or what we’ve learned about the Greek, and turn them completely off when you’re not calling or checking for incoming calls. And don’t forget to check your phone messages and e-mails frequently.”
“Understood,” Stone said, and Lance left.
“Is there such a thing in Britain as a throwaway phone?” Rocky asked.
“I don’t know,” Stone said. “I’ll ask Charter. Let’s go find him.” They walked outside to the front steps and looked around: no sign of Charter or his men. “Let’s walk back to the stables,” Stone said. “If they’re any good, they’ll find us.” He led the way. As they turned the corner of the house, someone fell in behind them.
Stone turned and looked at the man; one of Charter’s. “Do you know where I can find the Colonel?” he asked the man.
“One moment, sir,” the man replied. He produced a small handheld radio and spoke into it. “He’s in the stables,” the man said to Stone. “Straight ahead.” Stone led the way, and a moment later, when he looked back, the man had disappeared.
They found Charter in a stall, where a table and a chair had been set up. “Good morning again,” he said. “What can we do for you?”
“Do shops in England sell throwaway cell phones?” Stone asked him.
Charter reached under his table and produced a cardboard box. “Is two each enough?” he asked, taking them from the box and setting them on the table.
“I should think so. Can you send a couple to Lance Cabot? He’s working on the lower level of the house, southeast corner.”
“Of course.” A man appeared from nowhere, as if by intuition, and Charter handed him the phones and gave him his instructions, then he turned back to his table. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Thank you, no.”
“Then I suggest you take the phones inside and stay there, away from the windows.”
Having been dismissed, they took their phones and left. They settled into the library, and Stone used one of his new phones to call Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“Not too early for you, I hope.”
“Nope. Where the hell are you? You haven’t been answering your phone.”
Stone explained the circumstances and brought him up to date.
“You’d better stay where you are,” Dino said. “Wherever that is, it’s safer than here.”
“Perhaps things are better in a green and pleasant place,” Stone said. “Or would be, if we hadn’t had the fatality early this morning.”
“You didn’t mention that.”
“I did, just now. Don’t rush me.”
“Just stay there, pal, and be careful.”
“Maybe, we’ll see.” They said goodbye and hung up.
“Dino thinks we should stay here,” Stone said to Rocky.
“Maybe he’s right.”
“Maybe I should send for my airplane, instead of waiting for the next Strategic Services airplane.”
“Do you think that would make us invulnerable?” she asked.
“Not being where we lost a man this morning could make us less vulnerable.”
“Did you ever hear of a rocket-propelled grenade, RPG, for short?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a small weapon, but it can blow an airplane out of the sky.”
“So, you’re thinking it’s safer here.”
“We’re here, and we’re not dead.”
“I can’t argue with that logic,” Stone said “Now that I think of it, maybe we shouldn’t have been shooting skeet yesterday.”
“At lease we were armed,” she said.
“There is that,” Stone admitted. “Maybe we should take Philip Charter’s advice and just stay inside, away from the windows.”
“That limits our choice of entertainment to reading, TV, or sex.”
“I like all three, and my library is at your disposal.”
“I’ll read until I can’t stand it anymore, then I’ll attack you,” she said.
31
In the absence of Dame Felicity, Stone had decreed no dinner dress, only suits, or as the British preferred to call them, “lounge suits.”
Lance had shown up in as near as he could get to dinner dress, an almost-black suit and a pin-dotted necktie and not-quite-matching pocket square. Lance, who normally operated with a bland countenance, looked positively gloomy.
Stone didn’t ask him what was the matter, but Lance told him anyway, while the others listened in.
“It’s worse than the NSA thought,” Lance said. “They’ve not only breached our encrypted phones, they’ve come up with their own network, with their own encryption.”
Rawls was the first to grasp what he was saying. “That’s not possible,” he said. “No criminal gang has the resources and computer power to accomplish that. Only a nation-state, and a prosperous one at that, or one willing to dedicate a huge part of their economy to the task, could do it.”
“I’m inclined to agree, Ed,” Lance said. “And so is the NSA.”
Stone finally saw a glimpse of dawn. “Do you mean that the Russian government has turned over a huge chunk of its capabilities to a bunch of thugs?”
Colonel Charter spoke up. “I think this just confirms what some of us have always believed—that the Russian government is a bunch of thugs.”
“I’m just a retired copper,” Sally Deerfield said. “Will someone tell me what you’re talking about?”
“I think Philip has just told us,” Stone said.
“Yes, but what does it mean?” Sally demanded.
“It means,” Charter said, “that what we’re up against is not just a band of brigands, but an army, and a well-financed and equipped one, at that.”
“Lance,” Stone said, now more sure of himself, “is our government going to be willing to match or, preferably, outmatch what we’re up against?”
“I can tell you more about that after I’ve joined our president’s daily intelligence briefing tomorrow morning, their time. For my part, I think we’re fortunate to have the president we have, who has been schooled by the last two presidents to face something like this.”
They were called to dinner. There wasn’t much chatting at tabl
e, at first. Finally, Charter spoke up again.
“In the end,” he said, “dealing properly with this situation is going to require an act of arms.”
“In the end, certainly,” Lance said. “What I’m worried about is the beginning, which directly concerns the people at this table.”
From there, the conversation descended into geopolitics, something to which Stone had not given a lot of thought, and about which he had nothing to contribute.
After dinner, back in the library over brandy and coffee, Charter said to Lance, “May I speak to you privately?”
“Philip,” Lance replied, with an edge in his voice. “We are all sentient grown-ups in this room, and we are all involved. So you may speak to all of us together.”
Charter turned just the slightest bit red. “All right,” he said, “right now I have fifteen men on the grounds, all of them ex-SAS. I can gather, perhaps, another twenty, not all of them employed by Strategic Services. What I propose is a direct assault on every person on the grounds of this house who is not an employee of the estate or a guest here.”
“Thank you for that, Philip,” Stone said, drily. “I should hate for the house and staff to start taking mortar rounds. There’s also the country hotel next door, which is full.”
“Have no fear of that, Stone,” Charter replied. “These people are no better equipped than my men are, with assault rifles and handguns. I propose to overwhelm them and kill as many as possible, perhaps taking a prisoner or two, whom I will interrogate personally.”
“You propose to turn my wine cellar into a torture chamber?” Stone asked.
“There is no torture involved. Your own people have given it a more benign name: ‘enhanced interrogation.’”
“Is that what you would like me to tell my president tomorrow?” Lance asked, drily.
“I do not propose that you tell your president anything,” Charter said, “until it’s over. Then you can give her glad tidings.”
“There will be no glad tidings in anything I tell her if we follow your plan. There will be only consternation, followed by the sound of heads rolling down a White House corridor.”
