Dead in the Water

by Stuart Woods

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Anything you can think of, Bill. I’m absolutely desperate, and we don’t have a minute to waste. I want the prime minister to wake up tomorrow morning to the sound of his phone ringing; I want his fax machine flooded with indignant letters; I want to scare the living shit out of him.”

  “I’m on it.” Eggers hung up the phone.

  Stone switched off the satellite phone and started getting Allison’s things together.

  It was nearly midnight when Stone drove up to the jail door and found it locked. He rang the bell for three minutes before a sleepy, barefoot cop opened the door. “What do you want, mister?” he demanded.

  “My name is Barrington; I’m Mrs. Manning’s lawyer. I want to see her.”

  “You can’t do that, man; we’re shut down for the night. Anyway, she’s asleep; you don’t want to wake her up, do you?”

  Stone shoved the duffel through the door. “Will you see that she gets these things, then?”

  “Okay, I’ll do that first thing in the morning.”

  “Thank you, and will you tell her I was here? Tell her not to worry; everything is going to be all right.”

  The man looked surprised. “You want me to tell her that? Everything ain’t going to be all right, you know.”

  “Just tell her what I said, please.”

  “Okay, okay. Good night now.” He closed the door and shot the bolt.

  Stone got back into Thomas’s car and drove back to the marina, worried, exhausted, and barely able to keep his eyes open.

  Chapter

  59

  Stone got five fitful hours of sleep aboard Expansive, then threw himself into a cold shower so that he would be fully alert. He made some coffee, ate a muffin, and started making lists of things to do. At 7:00 A.M. he called Bill Eggers.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Okay, here’s a rundown. I couldn’t get to Senator Helms, but I did get to one of his staff; I told him the prime minister was a suspected communist.”

  “Good going.”

  “Woodman and Weld were also going to call him. I talked to the duty officer at the State Department and he put me through to the head of the Caribbean desk at home. He promised to try to get permission to send a cable in the secretary of state’s name. I’ll call him back after nine to see how he did. Oh, Woodman called the president last night; he was unavailable, but he did get the White House chief of staff on the line, which is almost as good. He had seen the 60 Minutes report and promised to get some sort of protest out first thing this morning.”

  “That’s wonderful, Bill. Anything else?”

  “The PR people have been on it all night; they’ll report to me at the office at nine. I’m afraid we’re going to miss a lot of morning editions, but they think we’ll make some of them.”

  “Hilary Kramer promised me she’d get us in the Times this morning.”

  “Hang on,” Eggers said, “I’ll see.” He was gone for a moment, then returned. “She made the front page, lower right-hand corner, continued inside. It’s good stuff, Stone, and she quoted you about every American sending a wire.”

  “Thank God we made that one.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be all over the morning television shows, too; you want to be interviewed over the phone?”

  “I’m going to be too busy; you do it.”

  “If they’ll talk to me.”

  “Tell them you’re Allison’s attorney, too.”

  “Okay. I’d better get on that right now; they’re already on the air.” He hung up.

  Stone switched on the television and, over the satellite dish, got the Today show. An hour later he heard Katie Couric interviewing Eggers and Eggers reading out the prime minister’s fax number.

  “Yes!” Stone screamed. He got into some clothes, jumped into Thomas’s car, and headed for Government House. The jail door was open this time, and after searching him, they let him into Allison’s cell. He held her close for a moment, then looked at her. She seemed surprisingly normal. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m nervous as a cat,” she said, “but I got some sleep last night, amazingly enough.”

  “I was here late last night, but they wouldn’t let me in.”

  “I got the things this morning,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

  From the window over the heavy wooden door outside the cell came a loud noise—a creaking of hinges, a slap of wood against wood, and another sound that made chills run up Stone’s spine.

  “What’s that?” Allison asked.

  “Who knows? I want to tell you what’s being done at home.” He sat down on the bunk with her and filled her in on what had happened overnight. “That thing on the Today show is going to have half the country up in arms,” he said. “And rightly so. By this time the St. Marks government has got to be up to its ass in faxes.”

  “Good morning,” a voice said from the corridor. The door was unlocked, and Leslie Hewitt walked in with a basket. “I brought you some fresh croissants and a thermos of coffee,” he said.

  “Oh, thank you, Leslie,” Allison replied, kissing him on the cheek. She poured herself some coffee and sipped it.

  “Have you heard anything at all?” Stone asked him.

  “Not exactly. I called the prime minister’s residence this morning and spoke to his secretary. He sounded rather odd; I gather the prime minister has been receiving a lot of telegrams, faxes, and phone calls. He’s locked himself in his study with my appeal. I hope we’ll hear something this morning.”

  “Good, good.”

  They sat with Allison until a guard came and made them leave. “You can come back at four this afternoon,” he said.

  “Allison, is there anything I can send you?” Stone asked.

  “I’m all right, I think. There are some books available here; I’ll try and read.”

  “We’ll be back at four,” Leslie said. “I hope we’ll have some news by then. I’ll call here if I hear anything before that time.”

  Allison kissed and hugged them both, then they left the cell.

  Outside the jail, Stone brought Hewitt up to date on what he had done, then asked, “Do you have any idea what’s going to happen?”

  “I hope all these calls and faxes will have an effect,” Hewitt said. “I don’t think the prime minister has ever experienced anything quite like this.”

  “Is he the sort of man who responds to pressure?”

  Hewitt shrugged. “It’s hard to say. He’s always been a stubborn fellow, ever since he was a little boy. I just hope he doesn’t dig in his heels.”

  “If we went to the residence, do you think he would see us?”

  Hewitt shook his head. “No, that would be unheard of; we’d be damaging our own case. Do you want to come back to my place and wait?”

  “I’d better go back to the marina and handle any calls that come in. Leslie, they’ve built a scaffold in the inner courtyard, and they’ve been testing it, I think.”

  “I know; I heard them.”

  “Have you ever been through anything like this with a client?”

  “Once.”

  “What happened?”

  “They hanged him.”

  “Oh.”

  “Let’s meet back here at four o’clock, and if we haven’t heard anything we can wait with Allison. We can’t give up until…”

  “Right,” Stone said. “I’ll meet you here at four.”

  Back at the marina, Stone called Eggers again. “Anything to report?”

  “We got on the Today show.”

  “I saw it. You did good.”

  “I hope we stirred up something. Oh, somebody finally got to Helms; he promised to call the secretary of state.”

  “Has the president had anything to say?”

  “Not publicly, but Woodman got a call back from the chief of staff’s secretary, saying that they were putting together a cable.”

  “Great!”

  “How’s the woman
holding up?”

  “Like a champ. I’d be a gibbering idiot in her place.”

  “So would I.”

  “I think we’re going to pull this off, Bill; I don’t see how the prime minister can stand in the wind that’s blowing now.”

  “I think you’re right, Stone.”

  “I’ll call you again later. Oh, let me give you the satellite phone number; you can dial it just like a regular phone.” He dictated the number, then hung up.

  Half an hour later, the calls started coming in—the wire services, reporters who recorded interviews, and, amazingly, the president’s secretary, who wanted a report. She told him that a cable had already been sent by the secretary of state. He thanked her profusely.

  He had some lunch at the Shipwright’s Arms and took some more phone calls. Then everything went quiet. No phone calls, no press. Just a quiet afternoon with Thomas.

  “How often does somebody get executed here, Thomas?” Stone asked.

  “We get one every two or three years, I guess. Then they knock the scaffold apart and put it together again when another one comes up.”

  “I know; I heard them working on it this morning. I don’t think Allison realized what the noise was; I hope she doesn’t, anyway.”

  “You ever lose a client like this?” Thomas asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “I hope you don’t lose this one.”

  “Me, too.”

  Chapter

  60

  At four o’clock Stone met Leslie Hewitt at the jail door. “What have you heard?” he asked the barrister. “Is there any word at all?”

  “Nothing,” Hewitt said, shaking his head. “The prime minister’s secretary won’t even talk to me now. A policeman answers the phone and says that everyone is too busy to talk.”

  “Well, at least we’ve made them busy.”

  “I had hoped to get some sort of hint from the secretary, at the very least, but there’s only silence. He didn’t return my phone call.”

  “You look more worried than I’ve seen you, Leslie,” Stone said.

  “I confess, I am worried. I really expected some sort of word by now. We have only until sundown.”

  “What time is sundown?”

  “Seven fifty—nine; I checked. And they always do these things on the minute.”

  “I’ve never been through anything like this,” Stone said.

  “Neither has Allison,” Hewitt replied.

  They went into the jail and found Hilary Kramer and Jim Forrester waiting at the desk, both looking tense.

  “Have you heard anything from the prime minister?” Hilary asked Hewitt.

  “Not yet,” he replied. “But I expect to soon.”

  “Are you going to see Allison now?”

  “Yes,” Stone replied.

  “Will you come out and let us know how she’s doing? And ask her if she’ll see me.”

  “Maybe a bit later. You, too, Jim?”

  Forrester shook his head. “No, I don’t want to see her.” He turned to Kramer. “I guess I’m not much of a reporter.”

  Stone and Hewitt were searched, then were walked down the corridor of cells. Stone looked at the stout door at the end, with the small window a good fifteen feet above it. At least the sounds from the inner courtyard had stopped; thank God for that.

  Allison was sitting on her bunk, her hair pinned up, wearing a denim prison shift that exposed her neck. Stone kissed her on the cheek. “How are you?”

  “They took away my things,” she said. “Even my underwear.” She seemed very calm.

  “You’ll get them back later,” Hewitt said. “Don’t worry.”

  “Haven’t you heard anything from the prime minister?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Sometimes it’s like this,” he said, glancing guiltily at Stone. “We might not hear anything until the last minute.”

  They all sat down—Hewitt in the single chair and Stone and Allison on the bunk. She held up a copy of David Copperfield. “The most exciting thing they had to offer,” she said. “It’s good, though. I haven’t read it since the eighth grade; I’d forgotten how good it is.”

  “I’ve had many calls from the press,” Stone said. “The prime minister’s office is under a lot of pressure.”

  Allison nodded, but said nothing. Nobody said anything. They sat quietly, each with his own thoughts, for more than an hour.

  A jailer appeared at the cell door. “Can I get anything for anybody?” he asked.

  “I’d like some water,” Allison said.

  “I’m sorry; you won’t be able to eat or drink from now on. I thought you might like some magazines.”

  “No, thank you,” Allison said, and the man left. “Why won’t they let me eat or drink?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Hewitt said, before Stone could speak. “They have their silly rules, I suppose.”

  Another long period of silence ensued, until Stone began to attempt small talk.

  “What are you going to do when you get home?” he asked Allison.

  “Get the estate wound up, I suppose. I don’t really have any plans beyond that. I find it difficult to think about the future right now.”

  “The fast motor yacht came back and is waiting for you at the marina.”

  “Good. I certainly don’t want to waste any time here when this is over.”

  He fell silent again, and so did she. Suddenly there was the scrape of a key in the cell door’s lock. They had not heard anyone approach down the corridor. A tall black man in a gray suit and a priest’s collar stood in the open door.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Manning,” he said gravely. “I am the Reverend John Wills; I thought you might like to speak with me. Are you a Christian?”

  “I’m an Episcopalian,” she replied. “Yes, do come in.”

  “Gentlemen,” the priest said, “will you excuse us for a while?”

  “Of course, Reverend,” Hewitt said, then left the cell, motioning for Stone to follow him.

  The two men went outside and sat on a bench against the stone wall. “I thought she should be alone with him,” Hewitt said.

  “Yes,” said Stone. He could not think of anything else to say. The sun was lower in the sky now. Stone looked at his watch. “Leslie, it’s nearly seven o’clock; could you call the prime minister’s residence again?”

  “Of course,” Hewitt said. He got up and went back inside the jail. As he entered, Hilary Kramer and Jim Forrester came out.

  “Stone,” she said, “have you still heard nothing?”

  “Nothing,” Stone replied. “Leslie has gone to phone the prime minister.”

  They joined Stone on the bench. “This is driving me crazy,” Forrester said.

  “It’s seven o’clock,” Kramer said, looking at her watch. “What time is sundown?”

  “Seven fifty-nine,” Stone replied. “I’m told they do these things on time.”

  “They’re not really going to hang her, Stone surely,” Forrester said, sounding distressed. “This is just some sort of torture.”

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Stone said “I’m afraid to hope.”

  Hewitt came back outside.

  “What?” Stone said.

  “It’s very odd,” Hewitt replied. “No one is answering the phone.”

  “Not even an answering machine?”

  “Nothing; it just rang and rang. I must have let it ring twenty-five times, then I called again and got the same result.”

  “Maybe they’re on the way over here,” Forrester said hopefully.

  Nobody cared to address that possibility.

  “Did they make you two leave Allison alone?” Kramer asked.

  “A priest is with her,” Stone replied. “We thought it best to leave them.”

  As if on cue, the priest came out the door. “Mr. Barrington?”

  Stone looked up.

  “Mrs. Manning would like to see you and Sir Leslie now.”

  “How di
d you leave her, Reverend?” Hewitt asked the man.

  “I think her mind is relieved,” he replied. “We had quite a good talk, although I don’t think she had met with a clergyman for quite some time. She seems resigned now.”

  Resigned, Stone thought. He wasn’t resigned. Why the hell didn’t the prime minister’s office call and at least put them out of their misery?

  The priest spoke again. “Are you Miss Kramer and Mr. Forrester?” he asked the two reporters.

  “Yes,” Kramer replied.

  “She’d like to see you both for a moment; I spoke to the jailer, and he will allow it.”

  They all got to their feet and went inside, the priest bringing up the rear. The jailer searched Kramer and Forrester, then conducted the group down the corridor.

  Forrester stopped. “I can’t do this,” he said. “I just can’t.”

  “Wait for us outside,” Stone said, and Forrester went back down the corridor.

  Allison was sitting on the bunk, reading a Bible that the priest must have given her. She looked up, saw Kramer, and smiled.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said to her, shaking her hand. “I wanted to tell you how grateful I am to you, Hilary, for the reporting you did in the Times. It meant a great deal to me.” She looked toward the door. “Where’s Jim?”

  Stone spoke up. “He wasn’t feeling well; he asked that you excuse him.”

  Allison nodded.

  “You will have to go now,” the jailer said to Kramer.

  The reporter left, leaving Stone, Hewitt, and the priest with Allison. Stone looked at his watch: seven thirty-five.

  Finally, Hewitt spoke. “A phone line at the main desk will be kept free,” he said, then he was quiet again.

  “Stone,” Allison said, “they asked me to fill out a form, giving next of kin and so forth. I gave them your name to handle any formalities.”

  “Of course,” Stone said, “but that’s not going to be necessary.”

  She smiled slightly. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” She smoothed her skirt. “I’ve also left some instructions with Leslie,” she said. “To be opened…” She let the sentence trail off.

  “Everything will be done, Allison,” Leslie said. “I feel that I have let you down, you know.”