by Stuart Woods
If you need to reach me, call the White House switchboard and ask for extension 2002. They won’t ask any questions. You’ll hear a beep and leave a message.
Will
Stone shook the envelope and a small key fell into his hand. He inserted it into the cuff, and it opened. Relief washed over him. He got up, retrieved his trousers, and went into his bath and dressing room; he hung up his suit, threw the shirt and his underwear into a hamper, brushed his teeth, shaved and showered, then he found a robe and his slippers and went to check on Holly. She still slept soundly. He handcuffed her left wrist to the strong case and put the key into his robe pocket.
He went into the kitchen and checked the refrigerator. He took out eggs, bacon, cheese, and a packet of Wolferman’s sourdough English muffins. Gala had remembered his favorites.
He made coffee, and while it brewed, he microwaved the bacon, put the sliced muffin into the toaster oven, and turned to the eggs. He melted a chunk of butter and grated some cheese into it as it melted in a small pan, then he whipped the eggs and scrambled them continuously on a low temperature. When they were soft but not runny, he put everything on two small plates, poured the coffee into a thermos carafe, and took everything on a tray into the bedroom.
Holly was awake, but barely. “Who are you and what are you doing in my bedroom?” she asked.
He set the tray on the bed. “Have some breakfast, and it will all come back to you.”
Not until she reached for the plate did she notice the handcuff on her wrist. “Ah, I see you found Will’s note.”
“I did. A pity it wasn’t there last night. I might have slept better.”
“I somehow forgot to give it to you, and then I didn’t want to wake you.” She finished breakfast without mentioning the strong case at her side, then accepted a cup of coffee and drank it. “Okay,” she said finally, “where’s the key?”
“What key?”
“The one in Will’s note, the one you used to unlock this.” She held up her cuffed hand.
“Oh, that key.”
“Yes.”
“I ate it.”
“What?”
“Well, not exactly ate, just swallowed. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a few hours until . . . well, you know.”
“I have to pee,” she said, standing up and realizing the case would have to go with her. “When I come back I’m going to have a Glock in my free hand.”
Stone removed the tray, stretched out on the bed, and switched on the TV, looking for Morning Joe. Then he realized that the program would have aired at four AM, local time. He went through the schedule and marked his usual morning programs for recording on the DVR, then switched to CNN.
Holly came back. “I forgot my gun,” she said.
“You’d get better results with a laxative.”
She got into bed with the case. “Let me put this as plainly as I can. If you don’t unlock this handcuff immediately, I’m going to make it my business to see that your life is entirely miserable for the next two weeks. Oops, make that three—Kate extended my little holiday for a week last night, and she took some pleasure in doing it, so I’m not in the best of moods. You might keep that in mind.”
Stone felt his belly. “Excuse me,” he said. He went into his bathroom, took the key from his robe pocket, flushed the toilet, and went back into the bedroom. “Success!” he cried, holding up the key.
She held out her hand. “Give.”
Instead, he unlocked it for her. “There,” he said. “I’m glad you got to see how that felt.”
“All right, what happened last night?”
“Rock slide, collision with rocks, two ruined tires. After midnight a forest ranger came along in a truck and took me to the opera house. No one there, of course, and my phone was dead, so I had to walk home.” He got up and plugged in his phone to recharge.
“Poor baby,” she said, patting his hand.
“You could have given me the key last night.”
“I didn’t have the key, just an envelope, which was always where you found it this morning.”
“You might have mentioned it.”
“I didn’t know what was inside.”
“You could have guessed.”
“I was too cold to guess, after spending two hours huddled on your doormat.”
“I hope you understand that I am innocent of all blame.”
“You could have given me the house key.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t foresee that you would need it. Anyway, you could have asked.”
“All right, enough of this,” she said. “What are we going to do today?”
“First, I’m going to secure this,” he said, picking up the strong case. “Then we’ll see.” He took the case into the study, where he knew Gala had a safe, and he thought he knew the code. It worked, but the case was too large to fit into it. He went back into the bedroom.
“It wouldn’t fit in the safe, right?”
“Right.” He tried to get it under the bed, but the base that held the mechanism prevented that.
“Under the bed? That’s the best you’ve got?”
“I’m open to suggestions,” he said.
“Freezer?”
“Too obvious and the case is too big.”
“Oven?”
“The same.”
“Put it in the pool or the hot tub.”
“Is it waterproof?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re an intelligence officer, you’re supposed to be more devious than that.”
“I really don’t know if it’s waterproof.”
“I mean, devious about where to hide it.”
“Oh, why don’t we just lock it in the trunk of the car and take it with us until we can buy a bigger safe?”
“That’s a thought, except we don’t have a car. Will had the Secret Service return it, I suppose.”
“Okay, what are we going to do today?”
“We’re going to buy a car and a safe.” Stone called the American Express concierge and ordered up a car and a driver. He hung up and checked his watch. “You’ve got forty-five minutes to get beautiful.”
6
THEY PUT THE STRONG CASE into the trunk and got into the large SUV.
“Good morning,” said the driver. “I’m Dan Rivers. I see you’ve got me booked for four hours.”
“That is correct, Dan,” Stone said. “We have some shopping to do. Can you take us to the Porsche dealer?”
“In Albuquerque? Sure, it’s an hour’s drive.”
“No Porsche dealer here?”
“Nope.”
“Bentley?”
“Nope.”
“Mercedes?”
“That we have.”
Fifteen minutes later they pulled up to the showroom. Stone and Holly got out and peered through the glass. Three cars, one C class and two E classes. They walked inside.
A salesman ambled over. “Good morning. Can I show you something?”
“Do you have anything larger that this?” Stone asked.
“Not in stock, but I can get you just about anything in a matter of days.”
“We need something immediately,” Stone said. Then he saw something interesting parked outside. “Is that for sale?”
“The Porsche Cayenne Turbo? It certainly is.”
“Let’s have a look at it.” Stone walked outside and around the car; it needed washing.
“This,” the salesman said, “is a deal. I took it in trade yesterday for an S550. The guy’s wife didn’t want an SUV. It’s less than a year old and has under three thousand miles on it.”
“Let’s drive it,” Stone said.
“I’ll go get the key.”
“I’ve got one of these,” Holly said. “It’s a sensa
tional car. Zero to sixty in four-point-three seconds—nearly as fast as the 911 sports car.”
The salesman returned with the key. “Just put this in your pocket—you don’t need the key to start it. Ignition switch is on the left, foot on the brake and turn it.”
Stone got in, followed instructions, and the engine leaped to life. Five minutes later they were tearing down a back road, taking corners fast. They returned to the dealership. “I had my heart set on an S550,” he said.
“Let’s go pick some options, then give me a week or ten days.”
“How much for the Cayenne?”
The man mentioned a number.
Stone mentioned a lower one.
“Is this cash or financed?”
“Cash.”
The salesman mentioned another number.
“Done. How long to get it cleaned up?”
“Give me an hour,” the salesman said.
Stone went into the dealership, was introduced to an accountant, signed the papers, and wrote them a check.
“We’ll have to clear this,” the man said.
“I’ll be back in an hour. Get it cleared.”
They went back to their car and driver. “Give me a second,” Stone said. He got out his iPhone and Googled safes in Santa Fe, then gave the driver an address.
“Something I should mention,” the driver said as he pulled out of the dealership.
“What’s that?”
“Do you have some personal security or something?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because we’re being followed—two cars, changing places every block or two.”
“What kind of cars?”
“A black one and a silver one, both Japanese, I think. I can’t tell the brands apart.”
“Have you had any experience at being followed?”
“I’m a retired police detective, I’ve had more experience following than being followed.”
Stone didn’t look back. “Is there a mirror on the passenger sun visor?”
The driver turned it down; the mirror was there.
Stone swapped places with Holly and kept his eyes on the mirror. “They’re both Toyotas,” he said after a couple of minutes.
“If you say so.”
“Think you can lose them before we reach our destination?”
“I believe I might be able to do that.” He turned into a parking lot, then into an alley behind a row of stores, then into the next street over. “They caught a light,” he said, making another turn, “and we’re a block from your destination.”
“Drop us there, then drive around for a while, until they figure out we’re no longer with you. We’ll get a cab.”
The driver let them out in an alley next to the safe store. Stone tipped the driver generously and they went in the back way.
“Oh, shit, the strong case!” Holly said, and ran out the door. She came back a moment later with the case. “He remembered.”
A salesman approached and started showing them safes. “I like the tall, skinny one,” Stone said.
“Good choice. It will take up less than half a closet.”
“Stone set the strong case inside it, and it fit, with room to spare. “Can you deliver it to Tesuque this afternoon?”
“We close at five—say, five-thirty, six o’clock?”
Stone gave him the address, directions, and a credit card. “Oh,” he said, “can you call a cab for us? Going to the Mercedes dealership.”
“Certainly.”
—
THE CAYENNE SAT out front, gleaming, and the salesman came outside. “Here’s your paperwork and spare key,” he said, “including the original window sticker with the options list. It’s loaded to the gills.”
Stone went over the list. Umber, with cognac and espresso leather; and, seemingly, every possible option.
“We’re giving you a year’s subscription to the satellite radio and a tank of gas.”
Stone shook the man’s hand, then he put the case into the trunk and pulled the cover over it, got into the car and drove away.
“You’re going to love it,” Holly said.
“Let’s get some lunch. Santacafé okay?”
“You’re my guide, I’ll trust you.”
They drove to the restaurant and were given a table in the garden, where Stone could keep an eye on his new car and its contents. They ordered margaritas and some lunch.
“Who do you think was following you?”
“I don’t know,” Stone said, “but nobody was following me yesterday or the day before or last week, and the only thing that’s changed since then is the presence of that strong case.”
“Uh-oh,” Holly replied.
7
THEY WERE ABOUT TO have a drink when the doorbell rang, and Stone found a van backed up to his front door. The salesman and another man got the safe onto a dolly and wheeled it down to where Stone stood before a double-doored hall closet.
“Right here,” Stone said.
“Looks good,” the salesman said. The two men rolled the safe into the closet. “Right about here?” The tall, thin safe took up only a quarter of the closet.
“That’s fine.”
They muscled it off the dolly, and the man tapped in a code and opened the door. “We should fix it to the floor with lug bolts,” he said.
Stone left them to drill from inside the safe, then wrench the lug bolts through the flagstone floor and into the concrete pad.
“There you go,” the salesman said. “Let me set up the lock for a code.” He tapped a long number into the keypad and closed the door. “Here’s how it goes,” he said. “You tap in a six-digit code, then press pound, then tap in the code again. If you make a mistake you’ll get a red light, so you’ll have to start over. If you don’t make a mistake, you’ll get a green light, then just turn the wheel to the left to lock the safe. After that, your code will open it.”
Stone followed the man’s instructions, then locked the safe, then reopened it with his code. He thanked the men, handed them a fifty for a beer on him, and saw them to the door. He came back, opened the safe, stowed the strong case inside it, closed the door, and turned the wheel. “Safe at last,” he said. “Let’s have a drink.” Holly was nowhere to be seen. He heard a whining noise from the kitchen; he went there and found her mincing something in a Cuisinart.
“What’s that?”
“Ginger.”
“What for?”
“I’m going to make you a Southern Baptist.”
“Too late, I’m already an Episcopalian, nominally.”
“A Southern Baptist is also a cocktail—ginger juice, sugar, and rye whiskey.”
“Sounds awful.”
She poured the ingredients into a cocktail shaker, shook it until it was too cold to hold, then filled two martini glasses and handed one to Stone. “Taste it.”
Stone did. “That’s wonderful,” he said.
Holly brought her own glass to a sofa in front of the fireplace, and Stone lit the fire.
“Why are you an Episcopalian?” Holly asked.
“Two reasons. First, my mother was, and she took me to church. My father, in addition to being a communist, was a confirmed atheist.”
“What’s the other reason?”
“The Episcopalian motto—‘Almost everything in moderation.’”
She laughed. “It’s good to have an out, huh?”
“It’s absolutely essential. Do you have a religion?”
“I’m a Southern Baptist.”
“The cocktail or the church?”
“I’m an army brat. Everybody was a Southern Baptist. There are no outs in the faith, you just have to make your own.”
“This is a little on the spicy side,” he said, holding up the golden li
quid and inspecting it.
“It’s the fresh ginger.”
“Ah. I’ve never had a drink with ginger in it.”
“I’ve never seen you drink anything but Knob Creek and vodka gimlets.”
“They have sufficed for lo, these many years,” Stone said. “Until now. I think I’ll have to add the Southern Baptist to my repertoire.”
Stone’s cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“I expect you can tell who this is without mentioning any names,” Will Lee said.
“I believe I can do that. Sorry about disappearing.”
“We understood when they found your car. It’s safely back with the rental people. Well, maybe not safely.”
“That’s the thing about large rocks in the road. I found what’s-her-name freezing on my doorstep.”
“I’m sorry about that. The agent must have thought she’d have a key.”
“She took a while to forgive me, but eventually . . .”
“I’m glad. Listen, I’ve had some troubling news. This morning, our friend up the mountain was left alone in his back garden for a few minutes, and while he was there, a man approached and the two of them had a conversation. They were spotted by an agent from upstairs, but by the time the man reached our friend, the visitor had departed, and since there were only two men on duty, they didn’t have the manpower to organize a search.”
“Our friend wasn’t harmed, I hope.”
“No, not at all. What is troubling is that our friend apparently believed he had been conversing with you.”
“I haven’t been back up there.”
“I figured.”
“Does anyone have any idea who the visitor was?”
“No, none at all.”
“What did he and our friend discuss?”
“According to him, they discussed your visit last night and what transpired at that time. Where is the item?”
“I bought a large safe, and it’s safely locked inside. The safe is bolted to the concrete and stone floor.”
“That’s good. Have you had any unexpected attention from anyone?”
“This morning we left the house to go into town to buy a car and the safe. Our driver, who was a former cop, picked up on two cars, probably rental Toyotas, following us.”
