“I don’t know, Jim, I’ve just retired from thirty years in my own business, and I’m having a good time. I’m happy to help you out from time to time, but I don’t want to commit to a full-time job.”
“Here’s my problem,” Jim said. “I’ve got more than two thousand weapons here, and a lot of them are old and in the same shape as the Winchesters. What I’d like to do is to overhaul every single one of them, and I think you’re the man to do that.”
“Tell you what, Jim, when I finish the Winchesters I’ll draw up a plan in writing for overhauling your stock, and I’ll make a start on it, but part-time. You start looking for a good gunsmith, and I’ll help you evaluate applicants by working side by side with them until you find the right guy. But—and I know this is a big but—I’ll set my own hours and work at my own pace, and you can pay me by the hour—fifty dollars per—instead of by the weapon.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Jim said, offering his hand. “I’ll get you some new credentials that will make it easier for you to move around the lot. I’ll throw in free meals at the commissary, too.”
Teddy shook his hand.
• • •
Mike Freeman was having lunch in the commissary with Peter Barrington, having completed a private tour of Centurion Studios, which he had greatly enjoyed. They were finishing their lunch when a man came into the commissary and was waved over by Peter.
“Billy,” Peter said, “we’re leaving shortly, but if you’d like to sit down, you can keep our table.”
“Thank you, Peter,” Teddy said, and sat down. A waitress brought a menu and he ordered the daily special.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said, “I didn’t introduce Mike Freeman. Mike, this is Billy Barnett.”
The two men shook hands.
“Mike is a friend of my father’s,” Peter explained. He put his napkin down. “Mike, will you excuse me? I’ve got to be back at the bungalow for a meeting. You finish your lunch.”
“Thank you, Peter,” Mike said. He stood and shook the younger man’s hand, then sat down again. “A fine young man,” he said to Barnett.
“That is certainly my impression of him,” Teddy replied.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Barnett,” Mike said.
“Please call me Billy—everybody does.”
“Thank you, Billy. I’ve been hearing about you from Peter and Stone.”
“Oh?” Teddy asked, frowning.
“Only favorable things,” Mike said. “Billy, may I tell you a story you might find interesting?”
“Please do,” Teddy said. “I like a good story.”
“Many years ago,” Mike said, “my name was not Michael Freeman, it was Stanley Whitehouse.” Mike thought he saw a flicker of recognition on Barnett’s face at the mention of the name. “I was an intelligence officer with MI-6, which you probably know is the British foreign intelligence service.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Teddy said. His lunch arrived, and he began eating. “Please go on.”
“I was having a good career,” Mike said, “and had been earmarked for promotion, perhaps to a high office, by my superiors. Then one day, my direct superior, a man named Palmer, invited me to his country house for the weekend, so that we could discuss an intelligence operation without being interrupted by office business.”
Mike waved over the waitress and ordered another glass of iced tea. “Not a very British beverage, really,” he said. “They prefer it hot.”
“I’ve heard,” Teddy said.
“So I went down for the weekend, and I was introduced to Palmer’s daughter, Penelope, who was a doctoral candidate at Cambridge. She was considerably younger than I, but we really hit it off. By the end of the weekend I was in love with her, and she, with me. It can happen very quickly.”
“I’m acquainted with the syndrome,” Teddy said.
“We agreed to meet in London for dinner, and by the time a few more dinners had passed, we were living together at my flat. It was early summer, and she would not return to Cambridge until the fall. Before much time had passed, she became pregnant—an oversight on both our parts. I was married and in the throes of a divorce, which in Britain at the time, with the best will in the world on the part of both participants, could take a couple of years, so this was very inconvenient for both of us. She told me that she wished to have the child. I asked her to marry me, and she accepted, understanding that she would be a single mother for a while.
“The following day, I was dispatched to the Middle East on an assignment, and not until I returned some three weeks later did I discover that much had happened in my absence. She had told her father of her pregnancy and the name of the child’s father. He did not react well and pressed her to abort the pregnancy. She refused, there was a fight, and she left her father’s house and went to my flat. Over a weekend, she reconsidered the desirability of carrying the fetus to term, and she asked a close friend who was a medical student to help her. He was the son of a man named Prior, who was the parliamentary private secretary to the foreign minister.
“The boy had seen an abortion performed but had not conducted one himself. Nevertheless, he thought he could handle it, and he brought the necessary implements for the procedure to a friend’s country cottage, where he met Penelope. The procedure seemed to go well, and he spent the night with her to be sure she was all right, then he returned to London to see his boyfriend—he was gay. Later that day she became ill, and he had not left her with an antibiotic. By the time he returned the following day, she was in extremis, and he called an ambulance. It turned out that he had perforated her uterus during the abortion, and infection had ensued. In spite of heroic efforts to save her life, she died in the hospital.”
“I’m very sorry,” Teddy said.
“I, of course, had gained the enmity of her father, who blamed me entirely, so my position at MI-6 was untenable. I had to leave the service and make my way in the world by other means. Fortunately, I had made the acquaintance of an important businessman who found the skills and languages I had gained in MI-6 useful to him. I was sent to Egypt to work there. In the meantime, the Prior boy, who had performed the abortion, was arrested and sent to prison for two years. While there, he was raped and murdered.”
“Good God!” Teddy said. “Your story gets worse and worse.”
“There’s more,” Mike said. “Palmer left MI-6 and went into politics, and both he and Prior were elected to seats in parliament. When the Conservatives came to power some years later, they both became cabinet members—Prior, foreign secretary, Palmer, home secretary. As such, Prior held sway over MI-6, and Palmer over the police. Not long after that, an attempt was made on my life, unsuccessfully, and it became clear that other attempts would follow.
“My employer introduced me to an Englishman, now an American citizen, who ran a large security company in New York called Strategic Services.”
“I’ve certainly heard of that,” Teddy said.
“I used the skills I had learned in MI-6 to create a new identity for myself and came to this country to work for Jim. I learned through friends in England that Prior and Palmer were still pursuing me, and Jim Hackett came under suspicion of being me—Stanley Whitehouse. As a result of that, he was murdered. Shortly afterward, the current head of MI-6, a friend of Stone Barrington, managed to expose Prior and Palmer as being behind Jim’s murder. As a result, they were expelled from the government and tried for his murder. They are both now in prison.”
“I’ve read bits and pieces of your story,” Teddy said, “but I didn’t know the whole thing.” He looked a little uncomfortable. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I want you to know that, having been on the run and in constant danger for years myself, I understand what you must have gone through the past few years.”
Teddy stared at him. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.
“I know that you are Teddy Fay, and I have every sympathy for your position. Stone Barri
ngton, by the way, suspected you of being who you are, but after meeting you, decided that he was entirely wrong. I helped convince him.”
“So you are the only person who thinks I’m this Teddy person?”
“Quite so. And I am no threat to you. In fact, I want to offer you employment at Strategic Services. I think someone with your skills could be very valuable to us. For your part, you could establish a permanent new identity and live in the open as a free man. Since you have obviously changed your appearance to the extent that no one who knew you in your earlier existence would ever recognize you, you would finally be safe. I will offer you a handsome salary and a full package of benefits, and your future would be assured.”
Teddy took a deep breath and let it out. “And why do you think I have all the skills you mention?”
“Because I read your CIA file, when such a file still existed. Don’t worry, I don’t have a copy, and, I suppose, neither does anyone else.”
“Well, Mike,” Teddy said, “this has been a very interesting lunch.”
“We will not meet or speak again, unless that’s what you want,” Mike said. He gave Teddy his business card. “This is how you can get in touch with me, should you ever wish to. My offer will remain open indefinitely.” He stood up. “Now, if you will excuse me, I will exit your life until such time as you may wish to rekindle our acquaintance.” He offered his hand, and Teddy shook it.
Mike left the commissary, and Teddy was left staring into his lunch plate. He felt exposed and, unusually for him, panicky. Gradually, as he thought it over, he became calm. What Freeman had said to him had obviously been sincerely offered. By the time he had left the table to return to work in the armory, he felt some comfort, knowing that he had a way out of his life as a fugitive, if he wanted a way out. Right now, though, he had things to do.
Charmaine was leaving the New Desert Inn to retrieve her car from the parking lot when her assailant fell into step with her.
“My car is in the employee lot,” she said, pointing.
“We’ll take my rental car,” Todd said. “It’ll be a nice surprise for Mr. Burnett.”
“As you wish,” Charmaine said.
“Here we are,” Todd said, as they approached a black Camaro. He handed her the keys. “You drive.”
He put her bag in the trunk, and they started their journey to Los Angeles.
• • •
Teddy worked until three at the Centurion armory, then went home to his new apartment, showered, then, at five o’clock, he called Charmaine on her cell phone.
• • •
A ringing came from her handbag. “It’s my phone,” Charmaine said to Todd.
“I’ll get it for you,” he said. He found the phone in her purse, opened it, and pressed the speaker button.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi, there. Why are you on the speakerphone?”
“It’s against the law to use a cell phone in the car. It’s not so obvious when the speakerphone is on.”
“Are you on schedule?” Teddy asked.
“Right on the button. Where are we meeting?”
“Would you mind going to Michael’s again?”
“Not at all. I liked it there.”
“Michael’s, then, at seven-thirty.”
“You’re on.”
“Are you wearing my favorite scarf?”
“The red one? You bet!”
“Great, I’ll see you at the bar.” Teddy hung up.
“What does the red scarf mean?” Todd asked, stuffing her phone back into her purse.
“Mean? Nothing—he just liked it the last time I wore it, so I wore it again.”
He squeezed her thigh. “You sure about that?”
“Oh, don’t be so nervous,” she said. “Billy has no way of knowing you’re coming.”
Todd checked his watch. “Step on it,” he said. “I want to be a little early.”
• • •
At Todd’s instruction, Charmaine pulled over to the curb down the block from the restaurant, instead of giving it to the parking valet. It was seven o’clock. Todd pressed the button to lower the windows, then switched off the ignition.
“I like the night air in L.A.,” he said, making himself comfortable in the passenger seat. “All you have to do now is to alert me when you see your Billy drive up to the restaurant.”
• • •
Teddy reached through the car window and placed the silencer to the back of the man’s head. “Why wait to be introduced?” he asked.
“Shit,” Todd muttered.
“Charmaine,” Teddy said, “please get out of the car. Is your bag in the trunk?”
“Yes,” she said, getting out and pressing the trunk release.
“Move over into the driver’s seat,” Teddy said, prodding Todd with the silencer.
Todd scrambled over the console as instructed.
“Charmaine, go into the restaurant and have a drink at the bar. The gentleman and I will have a little chat, then I’ll be back. I won’t be long.”
“I’m here to deliver a message to you,” Todd said.
“Start the car, and let’s drive over to Shutters,” Teddy said. “You haven’t checked in yet, have you?”
“No, but they’re expecting me.”
“While you drive, you can give me the message.”
“Mr. Majorov would like to meet you in Las Vegas,” Todd said.
Teddy chuckled. “I’ve already received that message, from the last gentleman Mr. Majorov sent, and you may recall, I declined.”
Todd drove the short distance to Shutters and, on Teddy’s instructions, pulled into the garage.
“I should warn you,” Todd said as he parked, “Mr. Majorov doesn’t like having his invitations declined, and he doesn’t like his messengers shot.”
“You needn’t worry about that,” Teddy said. “We’re going to call Mr. Majorov after you’ve checked into your room, and I’ll speak to him. Get your luggage from the trunk.”
Todd pressed the trunk release, and the two men got out of the car. They walked to the rear, and when Todd leaned over to retrieve his bag, Teddy shot him in the head. He quickly folded the body into the trunk and closed it with his elbow, then he put away the pistol and walked the short distance back to Michael’s.
Charmaine was sipping a margarita at the bar, and he sat down beside her and ordered her another and one for himself.
“I think he meant to kill us both,” Charmaine said.
“So do I,” Teddy replied.
“He’s not going to get a chance to do that, is he?”
“No, he’s not.”
“How am I going to explain this to Pete Genaro and Majorov?”
“I’m going to make a proposal,” Teddy said, “and if you accept, you’ll never have to worry about either of them again.”
“I’m all ears,” she said.
“First, let me ask you some questions: Do you have any family?”
“My mother died last year, and she was my closest remaining relative. I have a couple of cousins, but I haven’t been in touch with them for years.”
“Is there anything in your Las Vegas apartment that you can’t do without?”
She thought about that for a moment. “Nothing that can’t be replaced on a shopping spree.”
“Do you want to go on working at the casino and hotel?”
“No, it’s getting too scary there. I mean, they sent that guy to kill me, as well as you.”
“Then come and live with me, and let me take care of you. I’ll give you a new, foolproof identity, and Genaro and Majorov will never be able to find you. I’ll give you a wonderful life.”
She took his face in her hands and kissed him. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Oh, where is your car?”
“In the employees’ parking lot at the hotel. It’s leased. I can have the leasing company pick it up.”
“Tomorrow I want you to write to the leasing company, the
n write a letter to Pete Genaro, resigning your job and asking him to wire any money owed to you to your bank account in Vegas. We’ll transfer any funds you have there to an offshore account I have, then I’ll give you the cash. We’ll find a moving company on the Internet, and you can have them pack your belongings and deliver them to a charity. You’ll write to the phone, electric, and gas companies and to the credit card companies, closing your accounts. When all that is done, you will, effectively, have disappeared.”
“As long as I’m with you,” she said.
Ten days passed. Stone and Dino flew back to New York with Mike Freeman. Stone managed to convince Emma Tweed to come with them for a visit.
Peter began shooting his new feature, starting with Tessa’s scenes, so that she could finish shooting in under a month. Ben was grateful for Emma’s absence; Tessa moved into the house at The Arrington.
Five days after it had been left there, the body of Todd German was found in the trunk of his rented Camaro in the parking garage at Shutters, and the two detectives at the West Los Angeles police station had a new murder to solve. They were now getting crazy.
• • •
Pete Genaro looked up from his desk to find Yuri Majorov filling his doorway.
“I have had a call from my Phoenix office telling me that the body of Todd German has been found in exactly the same circumstances as the body of Igor Smolensky and in the same place,” he said. “Where is your Charmaine? Did Burnett contact her?”
Genaro handed him a sheet of stationery. “I received this from Charmaine today,” he said. “I sent someone to her apartment. It was empty, and the lease had been paid up.”
“I expect you have a skip tracer employed here,” Majorov said.
“Do you want to find Charmaine that badly?”
“Where Charmaine is will be Billy Burnett.”
“Mr. Majorov, if that’s what you want, then I’ll do it. But you should consider that the bodies are stacking up. Do you want that to continue?”
“What I want is for you to assign a skip tracer to find these people. When he has done that, you will report their location to me, and I will take care of the rest.”
Doing Hard Time (Stone Barrington) Page 12
