by Stuart Woods
“I just wondered what time Philip is arriving.”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t shared that with me.”
“Is he coming armed?”
“Once again, I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
“Lance, I have to shower and dress now. Is there anything else? Anything at all?”
“Watch yourself. The Greek is tricky.”
“That’s excellent advice. Goodbye.” Stone hung up.
“I take it that was Lance.”
“Yes, and he’s very nervous. He couldn’t even remember why he called.”
“That makes me nervous,” she said. “What does he know that we don’t know?”
“If there’s anything, he didn’t share it.”
* * *
—
Philip Charter, the perfect houseguest, arrived just in time to change for dinner and join them for cocktails. Stone introduced Dino and Viv. They imbibed, dined, and repaired to the study for cognac and coffee.
Finally, Philip cleared his throat. “Lance didn’t tell me much,” he said.
“He didn’t tell us anything,” Stone replied. “What did he tell you?”
“He has an idea that we should declare a truce with the Greek, and see if we can negotiate a more permanent peace.”
“He mentioned that,” Stone said, “but we don’t know how to establish contact with the Greek, and Lance didn’t share that information.”
“Ed, I’m told that your plan is to kill anybody who shows up to discuss peace,” Philip said.
“It’s all I could come up with, Philip. We were sort of hoping that you’d have some ideas about how we should conduct ourselves.”
“Lance doesn’t want us to do that. He says if word got around it would ruin the Agency’s reputation for trustworthiness.”
“I wasn’t aware that the Agency had a reputation for trustworthiness,” Ed replied.
Philip took a slow sip of his brandy and swirled it around his mouth. “I think I can get a message to the Greek about the idea of a truce.”
“Suppose he takes us up on it?” Stone asked. “What would your next move be?”
“To find a mutually acceptable venue for our talks and agree on some ground rules.”
“Do you have a venue in mind?”
“I’m off my turf,” Philip said. “Do you have any ideas?”
“What would we require of a venue?”
“Something like a conference room,” Philip replied, “with at least two escape routes, in case things don’t work out.”
“Maybe at a hotel?” Stone suggested.
“All right.”
“There’s an elegant small hotel called the Crane, uptown a few blocks. It has a conference room. It’s separated from the lobby by a tinted glass wall.”
“How dark is the tinting?”
“Not too dark. You can see who’s in the lobby.”
“What about egress?”
“There’s a door that leads to the kitchen,” Stone said. “In case you want lunch or coffee.”
“What happens when you get to the kitchen?”
“I’ve never been to the kitchen, but kitchens always have access to the street, for food deliveries, laundry, et cetera.”
“I’ll get Mike Freeman to send somebody there to case the place and draw us a floor plan,” Philip said.
“I can handle that,” Viv said. “No need to bother Mike.”
“All right, Viv. Tomorrow morning, perhaps?”
“That should be all right.”
“How many people from each side?” Rawls asked.
“I’d suggest two for our side.”
“You’ll need a third man from each side to frisk the participants. We don’t want a shootout, if there’s a difference of opinion.”
“I’ll be happy to frisk for our team,” Rocky said.
“Have you dealt with Russians before, Rocky?” Philip asked.
“Only across a table.”
“I’m not sure the Russian ego is equipped to be frisked by a woman, no reflection on you. Their opinion of women seems to be—how can I put this delicately?—antediluvian.”
Rocky laughed. “Point made and taken.”
“That leaves you, Dino.”
“I think I can handle that,” Dino said drily.
Rawls spoke up. “I’ll establish myself outside the kitchen door.”
“For what purpose?” Philip asked.
“To shoot anybody who comes out after shots have been fired inside.”
“Good thinking,” Philip said. “Now, I need to get some sleep to dispel the jet lag. I’ll send a message out, and perhaps it will reach the Greek tomorrow morning.”
They adjourned, and Stone felt better that a plan was, at last, forming.
Philip excused himself and went to his room.
* * *
—
Anybody feeling better about this?” Stone asked, when Philip had gone.
Nobody spoke. Everybody looked glum.
38
The following morning, Philip Charter called his London office and asked for his assistant, Ashley Parks.
“Ashley Parks.”
“Good morning, it’s Philip.”
“Good morning, Colonel,” she replied in her plummy, girls-school accent.
“Please call me Philip,” he said. He had been trying to get her to do that since he had hired her, some weeks before, in the hope that doing so might warm the atmosphere between them.
So far, it had not worked. “Yes, sir,” she replied.
“I want you to find someone in the office who has contacts inside the London underworld and see if that person can communicate with a man known as the Greek, who is, apparently, head of the Russian Mob.”
“I shall do so at once. What is the message?”
“To call me on my cell phone for a brief chat that would benefit both of us. I would be grateful if he could communicate by seven pm, London time. Tell him there will be no one else on the call, just the two of us. And it will take no longer than two minutes.”
“Got it,” Ashley replied, scribbling on her steno pad. “Will there be anything else, Colonel?”
“Yes, please. Henceforth, call me Philip and don’t make me have to remind you again.” He hung up.
Philip ordered up breakfast and it was delivered in record time. By the time he had finished, his phone was ringing.
“This is Philip Charter.”
“You requested a chat wif somebody,” a Cockney-accented voice said.
“That is correct.”
“Why ever would you want that?”
“I would like to discuss the possibility of a truce between his people and mine.”
The man hung up, and Philip was left staring at his phone. He was about to step into his shower when the phone rang again. “This is Philip Charter.”
“This is the person you asked to speak to,” a voice said.
“Good, Mr. . . .”
“Smith,” the man said.
“Very well. I believe it would be to your benefit, and mine, if you and I could meet and discuss the matter of a truce between us.”
There was a deep chuckle from the other end. “You think you can just snap your fingers, and we’re friends?”
“I believe that reasonable men can come to terms, if there is a modicum of goodwill between them, and if it is to the benefit of them both.”
“How much goodwill are we talking about?”
“I’m not talking about money, just the cessation of violence.”
“For how long?”
“Permanently, if neither party breaks the truce with violence.”
“Why would I deal with somebody who has killed five of my people?”
“I would like to point out the fact that four of these people were killed in a traffic accident while they were trying to kill either me or my client or both. Also, my client had nothing to do with the demise of the first two victims. He did not know them and, he believes, they did not know him.”
“Who is your client?”
“An American gentleman called Stone Barrington.”
“I heard the name, once.”
“Are you willing to meet at a place agreed to by all parties?”
“Where?”
“Mr. Barrington and I are both in New York.”
“What a coincidence! So am I! Where do you want to meet?”
“There is a hotel on Madison Avenue called the Crane.”
“I know it.”
“There is a conference room off the main lobby that would be suitable for us. Why don’t you send someone over there to inspect the property and see if it is sufficient to your needs?”
“How did you happen to choose this place?”
“I described to Mr. Barrington the sort of place that would be acceptable to me, and he suggested the Crane. I believe he had a drink or dinner there once and was favorably impressed.” Philip had no idea if this was true, but it couldn’t hurt.
“I’ll get back to you later today,” Smith said, then hung up.
Philip called Stone. “We’ve got a bite from the Greek,” he said.
“How good a bite?”
“A solid tug on the line. He’s thinking about it. So far, he hasn’t objected to the venue, either. By the way, how did you come up with the Crane?”
“I passed by there once, was intrigued, and walked through the bar and the restaurant.”
“How long ago?”
“Perhaps a month. I believe it has only recently opened. So you think he’s going to go for it?”
“He sounded interested.”
“What’s his last name?”
“He wants to be called Smith. Oh, by the way, he says he’s in New York.”
“Probably came here to kill me,” Stone said.
“That’s not out of the question. I assured him that you had nothing to do with any of the killings of his people.”
“Well, we’d better not let him get a look at Ed Rawls. He might be a familiar face to them.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Charter said. “He said he’d get back to me today.”
“Keep me posted.” They hung up.
* * *
—
Stone’s phone rang. “Yes?”
“It’s Joan. Your motorcycle has just been delivered. I had them put it in the garage. It’s gorgeous, by the way.”
“Thank you, I’m delighted to hear it.” He hung up and turned to Rocky. “You want to see something beautiful?”
“You don’t need an excuse to take off your pants,” she said.
“Not that, thank you. Come with me.” He took her down to the garage and pulled the cover off the bike.
“Ooooh!” she said. “A ’51 Norton!”
“How did you know that?” he asked, impressed.
“I looked at one in a showroom on Third Avenue once,” she said. “I couldn’t afford it.”
“This is the same bike. I’m afraid I had a little accident on my first ride. It just came back from the shop.”
“Can we ride it?”
“I’m afraid we’re confined to quarters at the moment.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I forgot.”
“Have you ever driven a Norton?”
“I used to have a boyfriend who had one, but nowhere as nice as this one.”
“We’ll get around to it,” Stone said. “When we’ve taken care of this other thing.”
“Any news on that?”
“Philip’s got a nibble.”
39
Philip Charter got out of a taxi a few doors down from the Crane and walked slowly up the opposite side of the street. The hotel had a sleek, black marble front, chiseled with a gilt-filled line drawing of a bird, standing on one leg. There was no name on the building.
Carrying a briefcase, so as to appear to be a businessman, he crossed at the corner and walked briskly toward the hotel, looking at the other side of the street, particularly for a good spot to locate a sniper. He had no intention of doing that, but he thought it might occur to the Greek. There was a fancy delicatessen there, with three floors above, which could be offices or apartments. There was also a roof that could make a good perch, but there was no window between where the conference room was located, so anyone getting shot would have to be entering or leaving through a set of front doors, which were smoked glass. He concluded that a sniper would not be a factor.
He entered the Crane through the revolving door, stopped, and looked around. The front desk was dead ahead, the bar and restaurant were to his right, and the conference room was where it was supposed to be, on his left.
He walked into the bar, set his briefcase on a stool, and sat down beside it.
A bartender approached. “May I serve you something, sir?”
“Thanks, I’m meeting a friend. I’ll wait until he arrives.” The bartender left him alone. He could see through the smoked glass into the lobby, which indicated that he would have much the same view from the conference room. He made a show of looking at his watch a couple of times, then he picked up his briefcase and left, walking downtown, toward Stone’s house. As he walked he got out his phone and called Dino Bacchetti.
“Commissioner’s office,” a man said.
“Colonel Philip Charter, for Commissioner Bacchetti.”
“Bacchetti.”
“Dino, it’s Philip.”
“What can I do for you, Philip?”
“Can you tell me where in the city departments I can find an architect’s plan of the ground floor of the Crane Hotel?”
Dino didn’t hesitate. “I won’t punish you by giving you directions. I’ll send somebody to pick it up and bring it with me to dinner tonight.”
“Wonderful, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Dino hung up.
* * *
—
He was back at the house in Stone’s office with Stone and Rocky when Joan came into the room. “A Mr. Smith is on the phone for you, Colonel.”
Stone pointed to the handset on the coffee table, and Philip picked it up. “This is Colonel Charter.”
“This is Smith,” the man said. His voice was a little gravelly, with an indeterminate accent. “The Crane is okay with us. Conditions are: Barrington and a companion, with me and one of my people. Everybody gets frisked in the lobby, and I mean frisked. Three pm tomorrow.”
“Those are acceptable conditions. We’ll want our own frisker there, too. I also need a phone number on which to contact you, should there be any changes in the plan. You already have mine.” Smith gave him a New York City cell number, then hung up.
Stone had been listening on his extension. “So, we’re on. Was that too easy?”
“I don’t think we can complain about that,” Charter replied. “And his conditions are the same as ours. I had a look at the place a while ago, and it works for me.” He turned to Rocky. “Can you check if the Agency has recovered any of their files on the Greek?”
“Sure,” Rocky said. She left the room for a few minutes, then came back “We can’t have the file, but a summary is being e-mailed to us on Stone’s phone.”
Stone got into his desktop e-mail program and waited for it to pop up. It took only a few minutes, then Stone printed out copies for each of them.
It was only one page, plus a poor photograph of a man who appeared to be short and stocky. “He looks a little like Aristotle Onassis,” he said.
“Maybe that’s how he got his sobriquet,” Philip suggested. “Let’s see. Se
rge Anatolovich Gromyko. Born in Chechnya fifty-one years ago. Served in the Soviet Army, then deserted to fight in the Chechen rebellion, got a name for killing readily and viciously.”
“That’s it, I guess,” Stone said, reading through the document.
“There’s something else you could do, Rocky,” Philip said.
“Yes?”
“Tomorrow, see if you can spot him entering the hotel, then follow him when he leaves the Crane and see where he goes. Can you do that without getting yourself killed?”
“I believe so.”
“Don’t take any risks,” Stone said. “If we lose him, it won’t be a disaster.”
“I’ll have a man on the roof across the street,” Philip said. “If there’s any shooting inside, he will take out Mr. Gromyko as he leaves.”
“I think Ed would enjoy that,” Stone said.
“Good idea. Rocky, can you get him a sniper’s rifle that will fit into a briefcase?”
“Probably. I think one of your people should watch Ed’s back. Gromyko might be a step ahead of us.”
“I don’t like to think about that,” Philip said.
“Nevertheless, we should think about it.”
Joan came back into Stone’s office. “Lance Cabot is on line one, and he wants to speak to all of you.”
Stone pressed the speaker button. “Lance?”
“Indeed. Are you all there?”
“Rawls is not.”
“That’s all right. He wouldn’t listen to me anyway.”
“Listen to you about what?” Stone asked.
“We must be cautious about this meeting with the Greek, who we now know as Comrade Gromyko. By the way, he’s no relation to the late Soviet foreign minister.”
“Good to know,” Stone said, drily.
“He is, however, just as slippery and just as untrustworthy.”
“Oh?”
“I fear it was a mistake to allow him to choose the venue.”
“Lance,” Stone said, “I am surprised that one as well-informed as you does not know that I first suggested the Crane, for no other reason than I thought it was what we needed.”
“You were not aware, then, that Gromyko owns the Crane?”
