by Stuart Woods
“Let’s get him inside,” one of the men said. Somebody grabbed his left arm and pulled, and he used the opportunity to bring the barrel around and rap the knuckles sharply, raising a cry of pain.
“Oh, shit, Manny, he’s got your shotgun,” one of them said.
“That’s right, I’ve got your shotgun,” Ed said. “You should know that it’s loaded and the safety is off, and my finger is on the trigger. Take one big step back, both of you.”
The two men obeyed. While keeping the shotgun trained on them, Ed got an elbow under his body and pushed himself upright. He swung his legs over the threshold of the trunk and pushed until he could rest his feet on the ground.
“Now,” Ed said, “you’re going to do exactly as I say, and the punishment for not doing what I say is going to be a shotgun blast to the knee. You’ll survive, if your buddy can get a tourniquet on you fast enough, but you’ll likely lose the leg when you get to a hospital. Everybody got that?”
“Yes, sir,” both men said simultaneously.
“Now, put your hands on top of your head and interlink your fingers.”
Both men complied.
Ed searched the one on the left and found a pistol, a flashlight, and a pair of handcuffs on his belt. He relieved the man of those implements and tossed them into the open trunk. “On your knees,” Ed said. The man complied, and Ed searched the other one, finding the same items, along with a spare magazine. “On your knees,” he said. The man complied.
Ed drew back the shotgun and clipped first one, then the other on the back of his head. They both fell forward onto their faces and lay very still. He searched both men’s pockets and found keys on both of them, then he cuffed them with their own handcuffs and threw both sets of keys into the woods. He tossed their wallets into the trunk, then he turned over both men and found a cell phone and a handheld radio on each of them and tossed those into the trunk.
He pulled both men away from the car, pocketed a gun, a phone, and a radio, closed the trunk, and walked around to the driver’s side. The keys were in the ignition. He looked into the backseat and saw the strong case, then he got into the car, started the engine, and got turned around. He followed the dirt road back to the pavement, then turned left and drove to the interstate. He headed south and was now reoriented. It was a thirty-minute drive back to his house.
He slowed as he approached, then saw lights on. There wouldn’t have been so many on last night, he reckoned. He was about to drive past when he saw Lance Cabot come out of the house and sit in a rocker on the front porch. He slammed on the brakes, pulled into his driveway, and got out of the car, taking the shotgun and the strong case with him. “Good evening, Lance,” he called out, and climbed the porch steps.
Lance didn’t get up. “Good evening, Ed,” he said. “You didn’t need to bring a shotgun.”
“It’s borrowed, like the car and this stuff.” He emptied the pistol, phone, and radios onto the table beside Lance’s rocker.
“What time did they take you?”
“Very late, I think. I must have fallen asleep in my chair in the study when they rousted me and injected me with something. While I was out they must have searched the place, found my safe and got it open, and taken the strong case. Their wallets are in the trunk, if you want to know who they are.”
“Do you know who they work for?” Lance asked.
“My guess is a man named Erik Macher, runs a security service in D.C.”
“And works for Christian St. Clair. I know him. He used to be with us.”
“Could you use a drink?” Ed asked.
“I could, and something to eat, if you have it. We hadn’t got around to raiding your fridge yet.”
Ed went into the house and returned with a bottle of Talisker, ice and glasses, a slab of Brie, and a box of crackers. He set the tray on a table between the two rockers, poured them both a drink, and sat down. “Your health,” he said, raising his glass.
Lance took a big swig. “Stone called me. He couldn’t raise you.”
“I came to in the trunk of the car and managed to get the shotgun out of the rear seat. They took me to the proverbial cabin in the woods, and there the tables were turned. I left them unconscious and handcuffed. If you want them I’ll give you directions.”
“Let’s let them find their own way home,” Lance said. “It’ll be a good experience for them.”
“Right.” They ate the cheese and crackers and drank much of the scotch.
“I’d better call Stone,” Lance said finally. “He’ll be worried about you.”
“You do that,” Ed said, “and give him my best. I’m going to bed. I’d be grateful if you locked the doors behind you.”
47
STONE AND DINO had finished dinner and were on cognac when Stone’s phone vibrated. Number blocked.
“Yes?”
“It’s Lance. Sometime in the wee hours of last night two men invaded Ed Rawls’s home, sedated him, opened his safe, and retrieved the strong case. They stuffed him in the trunk of a car and took him to a cabin in the country about thirty minutes from his house. While en route, Ed regained consciousness and managed to retrieve a shotgun from the rear seat. When they opened the trunk they were surprised to find their own shotgun pointed at them. Having cuffed the two men and thrown away the keys, Ed is now in his bed. The strong case is with him.”
“I’m relieved to hear all of that,” Stone said. “You sound a little drunk, Lance.”
“Funny, so do you.”
Stone laughed. “Does the fact that Ed still has the strong case indicate a disinterest on your part in possessing it?”
“Pretty much. As I told you before, I believe I know everything that’s in it.”
“Did you know that Nelson Knott fathered two children with black mothers, respectively seventeen and twelve years ago, and that the elder child and her mother are dead from an accident described as the mother falling asleep and striking a bridge abutment on the New Jersey Turnpike, and that the other mother and child have disappeared?”
Lance drew in a quick breath. “What evidence exists of this?”
“I have both the original birth certificates.”
“I did not know about this.”
“I didn’t think so. Also, the attorney who gave me the birth certificates earlier today was killed on his way back to Virginia in an accident described as his driver falling asleep and crashing into a bridge abutment on the interstate.”
“Have you called the police?”
“I’m sitting next to the police right now, and he’s just as drunk as I am.”
“Let me speak to Dino, please.”
Stone handed the phone to Dino. “Lance wants to speak to you.”
Dino took the phone. “Yes? Yes. Yes. I understand. Go fuck yourself, Lance.” He handed the phone back to Stone.
“Yes?”
“I tried to persuade Dino not to deal with this information in such a way that it might immediately become public knowledge.”
“I heard his answer to that request,” Stone said.
“Stone, when you and I, and perhaps Dino, have all sobered up, we should have a conference call on this subject. I believe I can convince you both that it is not in the interests of anyone, particularly the President, for this information to leak, unless we release it at just the right moment.”
“Okay, call us both at ten tomorrow morning. Dino and I should be sober by then. I don’t know about you.”
“Thank you, Stone, I’ll do that. Is there anything else?”
“Yes, there is. Ed Rawls has printed and bound two hundred copies of his manuscript and they are awaiting mailing now, addressed to as many ‘opinion makers,’ as Ed likes to describe them.”
“Jesus God. Where are they?”
“I am not at liberty to divulge that information, and neither
is Ed, since he doesn’t know, himself. Perhaps you would like to include that subject in our conference call tomorrow morning. Good night, Lance.” Stone hung up.
Dino smiled. “Did Lance shit a brick?”
“I think that is not an inaccurate description of his reaction. He’s going to call us tomorrow morning at ten and beg us to come to our senses.”
They paid the bill and made their way gingerly back to Dino’s SUV. When they were inside the cop in the front passenger seat sniffed the air and said, “I should issue both you gentlemen with a summons for traveling in the rear seat of a motor vehicle while under the influence.”
“There’s no such charge,” Dino said.
“Lucky for you, Commissioner,” the cop replied.
—
STONE AWOKE an hour later than usual the following morning and managed not to throw up immediately. He drank an Alka-Seltzer, ate half his breakfast, and eventually arrived at his desk.
Joan came in with the mail. “Good morning,” she said. “You look like you were hit with a baseball bat.”
“That is an approximation of the way I feel,” Stone replied. “Do you have any aspirin?”
“How many do you want?”
“Many, please.”
She brought an aspirin bottle and set it on his desk beside a glass of water. He shook four into his hand and got them down. “I’m expecting a conference call with Lance Cabot and Dino at ten, and I’d appreciate it if you’d hold all my calls until we’re finished.”
She nodded, then fetched a pitcher of ice water and placed it on his desk. “You’re going to need this, if you expect to survive until lunchtime.”
—
LANCE CALLED PROMPTLY at ten o’clock. “Are you both there?” he asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” Dino said.
“Same here,” Stone replied.
“Now listen to me carefully. I am assuming that you would both prefer to see Kate Lee reelected than have Nelson Knott replace her?”
“Yeah.”
“Right.”
“We have seven months to go before the election. If these birth certificates are published now, Christian St. Clair will have plenty of time to discredit these women or prove that they never existed.”
“One of them doesn’t exist,” Dino said.
“The other may not, either,” Stone chipped in.
“If she’s alive, then she’s in hiding somewhere,” Lance said, “and if she learns on television or in the National Inquisitor that we’re looking for her, she may vanish again, and we may never find her.”
“A good point.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Dino, if you start looking into the New Jersey car crash or treat the disappearance of the second woman as a crime, that information will make its way to St. Clair and put us at a disadvantage.”
“Oh, all right,” Dino said, “I can take the position that there’s no evidence of a crime. I’ll sit on it until there is.”
“Stone, if Ed Rawls’s book is published, the same thing will happen.”
“Oh, all right, I’ll see if I can delay the mailing.”
“Good. Now, in anticipation of your acceptance of my advice, I have gratefully dispatched to each of you a bottle of the CIA’s secret hangover remedy, which has saved the life of many an agent in difficult circumstances. One swallow every four hours, and you will regain your health by dinnertime.” Lance hung up.
Joan came in and set a medicine bottle on Stone’s desk. “This came, hand-delivered, from Lance, while you were on the phone.”
Stone picked it up, unscrewed the cap, and took a big swallow.
48
STONE, FORTIFIED BY PERIODIC DOSES of the magic CIA remedy, had regained his health by midafternoon, so he was healed when Ed Rawls’s call came in.
“Hello, Ed. How are you feeling after your ordeal?”
“Just fine, thank you. Lance sent over some stuff that cured my hangover.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Where the fuck are my books? My pack-and-ship place told me they took them to New York on your orders.”
“To my house, yes,” Stone said. “Now they are in a different place, a very safe one.”
“I was afraid that when I disappeared, you’d ship them.”
“Those were your instructions, but you turned up just in time to stop me.”
“I want them back.”
“No. They cannot be released until exactly the right moment. If they were sent now, St. Clair would have time before the election to discredit your work.”
Ed was quiet for a moment. “You have a point,” he said finally.
“I have some questions,” Stone said.
“Shoot.”
“Where is the mother and her twelve-year-old?”
“In a safe place,” Ed said. “They moved to a new house a few weeks ago.”
“Are you in constant touch with her?”
“I know how to find her. My place in Maine is being framed as we speak, or I’d send them there.”
Stone thought about that. “Perhaps they might be safe in my house in Dark Harbor, with security people to help.”
“I like the sound of your house for them, but security people would be noticed on arrival, and there would be talk in the village.”
“How about after Labor Day, when the summer folk go home?”
“Better, but the lack of people would make the security types even more noticeable.”
“How about this—we get Mike Freeman at Strategic Services to come up with an operative, and the three of them openly move in as a family.”
“I like it,” Ed said. “Maybe there could be a woman, too—her sister, say.”
“I expect that could be arranged.”
“Who pays for all this?”
“I do. Mike will give me the in-house rate. Maybe we could station somebody there to keep an eye on who arrives on the ferry.”
“Not on the island. Station somebody at the other end, in Lincolnville. He’d be less noticeable and nobody gets off on Islesboro who didn’t get on in Lincolnville.”
“Good.”
“Of course, there’s still a little pond called Penobscot Bay. Lots of boats out there, lots of places to come ashore on Islesboro.”
“There is that,” Stone said.
“Think of something else.”
“How about another country?”
“Which one do you have in mind?”
“France or England. I have houses in both.”
“I like that better.”
“And there’s a private airstrip on my English property.”
“Can it take a jet?”
“Yes. Perhaps you should get ahold of the lady and ask her to obtain passports for her and her son. I’m not going to smuggle them across any borders.”
“I’ll do that right away. I know a passport service that can get it done in a couple of days. How will you get them to England?”
“Strategic Services has a Gulfstream that’s back and forth all the time. They can hitch a ride.”
“Let me make a call, and I’ll get back to you. I’ll have to go buy another throwaway phone. I’ve run out.”
“I’ll wait to hear from you.”
“Did you get your phones and your house swept?”
“They were due today but haven’t arrived yet.”
“Good. See you later.” Rawls hung up.
Joan came into his office. “How are you feeling?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“You know, if we could get that stuff analyzed we could bottle it, sell it, and make a fortune.”
“I suspect that it may contain ingredients that can’t be bought over the counter.”
“Oh. By the wa
y, the Strategic Services people are here. I started them upstairs, and Fred is with them.”
“Good.”
—
A COUPLE OF hours later the team leader from Strategic Services came into Stone’s office. “You’re clean,” he said, “house and phones. We’re going to have a look next door, too, if that’s okay.”
“Go right ahead,” Stone said.
Ed Rawls called. “I have news.”
“Go ahead, my house and phones are clean.”
“The lady got married eighteen months ago, to a retired army master sergeant, so they have a new last name. More good news—they took a Mediterranean cruise last year and got passports, so they can leave whenever you like.”
“Wonderful. Let me look into transportation. I’ll get back to you.” He hung up and called Mike Freeman at Strategic Services.
“Hi, Stone, are my people finished?”
“Yes, and we’re clean here, thanks very much.”
“Everything else all right?”
“I need to get three people to my place in England on the quiet.”
“Are they legal?”
“They are, and they have passports—father, mother, and a twelve-year-old son.”
“I’m going to Brussels early on the day after tomorrow, eight AM departure. I could drop them at your place.”
“Ideal.”
“I’ll need their names and addresses and copies of their passports first thing tomorrow morning. We have to file a passenger list with the FAA.”
“I’ll get them to you. Mike, once they’re there, they’re going to need armed security to watch over them.”
“How many?”
“Two should do it.”
“I’ll get them down from London.”
Stone hung up and called Rawls. “We’re set for an eight AM the day after tomorrow. Where are they located?”
“In southern New Jersey.”
“Good. I’ll arrange for a car to pick them up and take them to Teterboro.”
“Great.”
“Mike will need their names, address, and dates of birth, and copies of their passports tomorrow morning.” Stone gave him a fax number for Freeman.
