“Where are you?”
“In the hangar. Nobody followed me, I’m sure of it. I waited within sight of the gate, and nobody came through for five minutes. You go back to work.”
“Is Tim in his office?”
“Yes, he’s at his desk.”
“He has a gun. Tell him that if anyone follows you into the hangar, to shoot him and quickly.”
“All right.” She hung up, got out of the car, went to the hangar door, and looked around, then she closed the hangar door. Tim looked up from his computer and waved. She waved back. She wasn’t about to tell him to shoot anybody.
Teddy spent the day watching the shooting, helping when he could, and when they were done, rode back to the bungalow with Peter in his golf cart.
“Have you got a couple of hours after work for some flying?” Peter asked.
“Sure,” Teddy said. “I should be through here by five-thirty, and I can meet you at the hangar by six.”
“I have to interview a woman for a job at five, but that shouldn’t take long.”
“What sort of job?” Teddy asked.
“We’re learning that Ruth Pearl can’t handle everything alone,” Peter said. “We’re getting a lot of invitations to industry functions and requests for interviews, and we need somebody to handle those, plus make personal arrangements—travel reservations, et cetera.”
“You met my wife, Betsy, at the hangar,” Teddy said. “She used to be a VIP concierge at a Las Vegas hotel. Would you interview her for the job?”
“Sure. Her background sounds good for us.”
They arrived at the bungalow and found Stone Barrington on the front porch in a rocking chair. “Good morning,” he said. “I thought I might buy you lunch, Peter, if you’ve got the time.”
“Sure, Dad. Give me a few minutes to return some calls, and we’ll go over to the commissary.”
“Will you come with us, Billy?” Stone asked.
“Of course,” Teddy replied. He knew why Stone wanted him there—to watch Peter’s back.
“Sit with me while Peter makes his calls,” Stone said.
Teddy took a rocking chair.
“What’s new with Majorov and his assassin?” Stone asked.
“He managed to find out where my wife and I are living and paid a visit this morning. She got out just in time.”
“Is there any way you can take a more offensive tack?” Stone asked.
“Only if I catch them outside the Bel-Air. That’s a very tightly secured place—not as tight as The Arrington, but tight.”
“I see.”
“For the moment I think the best use of my time is to cover Peter,” Teddy said. “Blocking an attempt on him is the best way for me to go on offense.”
“I’ll trust your judgment,” Stone said.
“Thank you. I want Vlad off the street as much as you do. My wife had a very close call this morning.”
Peter finished his calls, and they went to lunch. After that, Stone excused himself, saying that he had to visit the Woodman & Weld offices on Wilshire.
“Is someone driving you?” Peter asked. “I can get a studio car to take you.”
“It’s all right,” Stone said. “One of Mike Freeman’s people is driving me.”
• • •
Later in the day Vlad parked across the street from the main gate at Centurion Studios and watched the employees leave work. One of them was driving an old Porsche Speedster, a car Vlad had admired in his youth.
A few minutes later, a brown SUV drove through the studio gate with Peter Barrington in the front passenger seat. Vlad’s heart leaped; finally an opportunity. He waited for a couple more cars to follow the SUV, then he fell in behind it.
• • •
Half a block down the street, Stone Barrington sat in the front passenger seat of another brown SUV, with a Strategic Services agent at the wheel. “There,” Stone said, pointing. “I think that black car is following Peter’s.”
The agent pulled into traffic. “How do you want to handle this?” he asked.
“You’re armed, aren’t you?” Stone said.
“Yes.”
“So am I. Look for an opportunity to force that car over without attracting too much attention.”
“I’m not sure that’s going to be possible,” the agent said. “We’re talking L.A. rush hour here.”
“Do the best you can.”
Five cars now separated Stone from Peter, and the black car following him was two cars ahead of Stone’s.
“See if you can get alongside him,” Stone said, unholstering his pistol.
“Wait a minute, now,” the driver said. “I can’t be involved in a shooting—that’s strictly against company policy, unless we’re shot at first.”
“What kind of glass is in this car?” Stone asked.
“This one has our stage one protection package,” the agent said. “The glass will stop a nine-millimeter bullet, and so will your door. It has a Kevlar lining.”
“Then let’s crowd him—maybe he’ll take a shot at us, and I can fire back. I have the advantage of not driving, while he is.”
“I don’t know about this,” the agent said. “Provoking a gunfight in rush hour traffic.”
“I’ll take the responsibility with Mike Freeman. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Except getting shot,” the driver said, but he pulled into the left lane and managed to get a car closer to the black vehicle.
Stone racked his pistol and switched it to his left hand, leaving his right free to operate the window control.
“How much noise are you going to make?” the agent asked.
“It’s a .380—not as much as a nine-millimeter or a .45.”
“There’s a small blanket folded on the seat behind you,” the agent said. “Hide your weapon in that. You’ll get a better jump on the guy if he can’t see your gun, and the blanket will suppress noise and muzzle flash.”
“Good idea.” Stone turned around, found the blanket on the rear seat, and pulled it into his lap. He twisted it around his left hand; he would be firing through the soft wool. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said, rolling his window halfway down.
• • •
Vlad caught sight of a movement in his side mirror that brought him to attention: a brown SUV, like the one Peter Barrington rode in, suddenly pulled out into coming traffic and passed the car behind him, pulling up close, riding his bumper. He looked for a way to get away from the car, but he was in the middle of a block, moving slowly, and was surrounded by other cars; there was no way out. Then the SUV swerved and pulled up in the lane beside him.
Vlad yanked the silenced pistol from its holster; he recognized the front passenger as Stone Barrington, from photos he had seen. As the car pulled alongside him he did not hesitate; he fired two shots at Barrington.
• • •
Stone saw the two stars appear in the armored glass. He had his left hand, wrapped in the blanket, up to the window’s edge and got off two quick shots. The blanket burst into flames.
• • •
Vlad’s hat flew off, exposing his white hair, and he felt the passing of another bullet. He stomped on the accelerator and gained half a length on the SUV, then he yanked the wheel to the left, forcing the other vehicle into oncoming traffic, where it collided with a delivery truck and stopped. Vlad then got around two cars and was only one behind the other SUV.
• • •
The agent produced a cell phone and used it as a walkie-talkie: “Sierra Sierra One, this is Sierra Sierra Three! Black car behind you. Take evasive action immediately! Repeat, take evasive action immediately!”
• • •
Stone got the blanket off his hand and stomped at the flames, finally extinguishing them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw an LAPD foot patrolman coming toward them from across the street. He threw the smoldering blanket out his window and ran the glass down, to hide the bullet marks.
“I’ve got this,”
the agent said. “Just sit there quietly.”
Stone stuck the gun back into its holster and sat there, trying to look benign, as the agent began explaining to the officer how the other car had forced him into traffic.
• • •
Vlad was ready to make his move when the vehicle beside him turned left. He swung into the left lane and gunned his car past the one car separating him from Peter Barrington. Then, to his astonishment, the brown SUV made a sudden right turn down a side street, leaving him stuck in the left lane. Traffic came to a halt as a light turned red half a block away. He had lost his opportunity, and what was worse, Stone Barrington had made him. How could the man know him? he wondered; they had never met.
Then he felt something running down the side of his face. He looked into the rearview mirror and found a little nick in the bridge of his nose. The son of a bitch had grazed him!
Teddy opened the hangar door with his remote control and drove inside and parked next to Betsy’s Mercedes. Tim Peters was doing something to an engine of the Mustang jet and gave him a wave.
“Anything wrong?” Teddy asked.
“Just topping off the oil,” Tim replied. “This bird had a long flight out here.”
“Peter will be here fairly soon,” Teddy said. “Will you close the hangar door after he arrives?”
“Sure.”
Teddy went upstairs and found Betsy putting away new towels. “Peter’s going to be downstairs in a few minutes, and he wants to hire someone to work for him. You’ve got a job interview as soon as he gets here.”
Teddy went down to his new office and made sure Peter’s logbook was up to date. He heard the hangar door close and car doors slam, and a moment later Peter came into the room.
“Have a seat, and we’ll go over what we’re going to do this afternoon,” Teddy said.
“We just had a brush with the Viper,” Peter said. “At least, I think it was the Viper.”
“What happened?”
Peter told him.
“Sounds like your agent is a good driver.”
“He sure is, and he told me the Strategic Services cars have bulletproof glass in them. I was happy to hear that!”
Vlad had been lying in wait for Peter outside the Centurion main gate, Teddy thought. He must have gotten a look at me, too, though he wouldn’t know who I am. He might remember the Speedster, though.
Betsy rapped on the door, and Teddy left them alone. As he walked out of his office, someone rang the bell for the entry door built into the larger, bifold door. Tim opened the big door and another brown SUV drove in, and Stone got out.
“Peter had a run-in with Vlad,” Teddy said to Stone.
“I know, I was there. I got off a couple of rounds at his head, and I think I hit him, but he outmaneuvered us and got away. We hit a delivery van and had to spend a few minutes with a cop, but it ended well, except for a dented fender.”
“Vlad is getting closer,” Teddy said. “He was lying in wait for Peter outside the studio. We can’t make it easy for him anymore.”
The Strategic Services agent walked up. “You need to get a different car for tomorrow,” Teddy told him, pointing at the two SUVs. “No more identical SUVs—Vlad is on to that.”
“Right,” the man said. He produced a cell phone and called his headquarters.
“It troubles me,” Stone said, “that I’m the one who got to take the shot. Where were you?”
“I’m Peter’s body man at the studio. During transport, he’s in the hands of Strategic Services, as are you,” Teddy said. “Everybody did his job, except you—you didn’t have a job. You took matters into your own hands, and you missed. What was the range?”
Stone looked embarrassed. “Maybe four feet.”
“I don’t think Mike Freeman would hire you.”
The agent returned. “We’ll have different vehicles tomorrow—no SUVs.”
Teddy looked toward the rear of the hangar and saw Peter and Betsy standing outside the office, chatting. They shook hands, and Teddy joined them.
“I’ve just hired myself a personal assistant,” Peter said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Betsy, and I’ll leave a studio pass and a parking pass for you at the gate.”
Betsy went back upstairs, and Teddy and Peter sat down in the office.
“Betsy is perfect,” Peter said. “Two minutes into our conversation, she was redefining the job, and she was right. She’s going to work for Ben and Hattie, too, until we need more help. We’ve got another room at the bungalow that you and Betsy can use as an office. I’ll call Ruth and have her get some furniture in there.”
“Sounds great,” Teddy said. “Now let’s get to work.”
• • •
Stone rode back to The Arrington with his agent driver, and as they passed the Bel-Air Hotel, Stone said, “Let’s stop here for a drink.”
The driver ignored the instruction and continued on.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Stone asked.
“You used to be a cop, didn’t you?”
“Yes, for fourteen years.”
“During those years, how many times did you do security details, protecting a VIP?”
Stone thought about it. “Never.”
“I thought not, otherwise you wouldn’t ask me to take you into a place where two people who want to kill you and know what you look like are staying. Can you see why that wouldn’t be a good idea?”
Stone said nothing.
“You were hoping to get another shot, weren’t you?”
“All right, I guess I was.”
“You’ve already been involved in one shooting incident today and got off scot-free. You’ve got a lot to lose. Don’t push your luck.”
Stone and Mike Freeman were having an early breakfast. The kids had already left for work.
“I read the reports from yesterday,” Mike said.
“Your people did well.”
“Yes, they reacted well, even if one of them tiptoed along the edge of our company policies. He was reprimanded for that.”
“You should be pleased to have him working for you,” Stone said.
“I am, but all my people are expected to meet company standards in their behavior—that means my standards.”
“Mike, I apologize for leading your agent even a little astray, but I came within an inch of ending this.”
“Yes, and in the middle of a crowded Los Angeles avenue, with a cop watching from across the street and at least fifty potential witnesses.”
“We walked away from it,” Stone said.
“This time. You’re going to have to alter your behavior.”
“In what way?”
Mike sighed. “You’re going to have to be more careful.”
Stone looked at him askance. “You’re not telling me to stop trying?”
“Just be more careful,” Mike said. “And I will not collude with you on this.”
“Understood. Do you have any advice?”
“Don’t work alone,” he said. “You have access to someone who is experienced at these things, much more so than you or I.”
“Ah, Teddy. Or Billy. He thinks his best move is to guard Peter and take out Vlad when he comes for him.”
Mike shrugged. “That’s one way to work—a valid way.”
“He won’t go on offense because he says the Bel-Air is too secure.”
“Not that secure,” Mike said. “I think he means there are too many people around for him to get in and out alone.”
“So you’re telling me to work with Billy?”
“I told you, I will not collude with you in this business. However, I did send two men with Peter this morning, instead of one. They will be with him all day. That should free up Billy.” He took a jotter pad from a pocket, wrote down something, and slid it across the table. “This is Billy’s cell number.”
• • •
Stone was sitting at poolside, reading some contracts that had been sent from New York, when the phone beside him rang. “Y
es?”
“Mr. Barrington, this is the front gate. There’s a Mr. Barnett to see you.”
“Send him up to the house.” He hung up. He had already alerted his security man.
Five minutes later, Billy Barnett was sitting next to him, sipping a Virgin Mary. “In my former existence,” Billy said, “we used to call this drink a Bloody Awful.”
Stone smiled. “A very good name.”
“Why did you want to see me?”
“Because I’m tired of this. It’s wearing us all down, waiting for Vlad to pounce. I’m sorry I missed him yesterday.”
“Patience is required,” Billy said.
“I’m not a patient person,” Stone said. “My personal motto is Si non nunc quandro?”
Teddy laughed. “‘If not now, when?’ I like it.”
“You know your Latin.”
“The product of a misspent youth,” Billy said.
“You said the Bel-Air was too secure to take it to Vlad there.”
“I did. That hasn’t changed.”
“It would be less secure, would it not, if you were two?”
“Half as secure,” Billy said. “Surely you’re not contemplating joining forces?”
“I am thinking exactly that,” Stone said. “In spite of my missed shot of yesterday. I am extremely angry, and taking out Majorov, too, would be a great bonus.”
“I think I prefer you in the role of lookout.”
“Looking out for what?”
“The Bel-Air is not a high-rise hotel with elevators and long corridors. It is a large cluster of buildings standing in a lush, tropical garden. That might make it easier to approach and enter a particular building, but the place is crawling with guests, and in particular, staff—maids, bellmen, room service waiters, valets, et cetera. However, it is possible to exclude them all from a particular suite for hours with a simple ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hung on a doorknob. Unfortunately, that will not stop the other occupant of the suite.”
“Quite right. I assume you have an inkling of a plan?”
“I followed the two gentlemen when they checked into their suite, so I know the number. I have since had a word with a staff member who, for an emolument, gave me two valuable pieces of information. One, every morning at seven-thirty or so, Mr. M. takes himself to the outdoor restaurant, where he consumes a large breakfast. Two, Mr. V., on the other hand, does not rise until Mr. M. returns and rousts him from his slumber. That means there is about an hour’s time available to enter the suite and deal with him decisively. Perhaps both of them.” He looked at his watch. “Not enough time to prepare today, but tomorrow?”
Doing Hard Time (Stone Barrington) Page 21
