by Stuart Woods
“Damn,” Holly said, looking out the window, “he’s one of ours, all right. I asked Lance to pull off the team while you’re here, but I guess he didn’t.”
“Why do you think Teddy would be interested in you?” Ham said.
“I don’t know that he would, but he’s obviously figured out that I’m Agency or Bureau, and he has the advantage of recognizing me when I can’t recognize him.”
Ham sat quietly for a moment.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m trying to think of a way to make you better bait.”
“Thanks a lot, Ham. Should I go naked in the street?”
“That might do it, but you’d freeze to death in these temperatures.”
ACROSS THE RESTAURANT, Teddy sat with Irene. He was against the wall, while her back was to the room, so he could see Holly clearly. He was wearing his nose and mustache disguise, and Irene was good cover, too. They wouldn’t expect him to be with a woman.
“I’m nervous about being in a restaurant with you, Teddy,” Irene whispered.
“Just don’t use my name; call me Carl,” he whispered back.
“Who is it you’re looking at across the room?” she asked.
“One of yours,” he said “Holly Barker.”
“She’s right here in the restaurant?”
“Yep. We followed her here.”
Irene sat up straight, so she could see the reflection of the room in the mirror behind their banquette. “Where?”
“She’s sitting next to a redhead, and there’s a man with them with his back to us. He looks ex-military to me; could be her father.”
“You’ve got more guts than is good for you,” Irene said.
“You’re probably right. Have you thought of retiring from the Agency?”
“I would, if I had something to do with myself,” she said.
“How much have you got in savings?”
“About three hundred thousand in stock accounts, and I’d have my pension, of course.”
“How’d you like to live in the islands?”
“Which islands?”
“Caribbean.”
“Now that would make an attractive alternative to working.”
“It’s about time for me to get out of here,” Teddy said. “I just want this one more good score, then I want to disappear for good. You want to disappear with me?”
She smiled. “I think I’d like that.”
“We’d have to do this carefully,” Teddy said.
“Tell me how, and I’ll do it.”
“I think St. Barts would be nice; I was there for a weekend about fifteen years ago, and I was impressed.”
“I’ve heard good things about it.”
“You retire, go down there and look for a house. Use your savings for a down payment; I’ll give you a bank name in the Caymans, and you’ll apply for a mortgage there. The payments will be made from my funds, and in time, when we’re sure they’re not interested in you anymore, I’ll replenish your savings. It’s important that the Agency can see that you’re doing this on your own hook, with no help.”
“That’s true. You’re sure this is what you want to do, uh, Carl?”
“I’m sure; how about you?”
“I’m in.”
“When you get back, go see Hugh English and tell him you want to retire in, say, a month. Tell him you’re thinking about a place in the sun somewhere and ask him for recommendations, then put your place on the market. Is it paid for?”
“Yes, and it’s probably worth three-fifty, three-seventy-five.”
“Good. With that, an Agency investigator would see that you can afford the place in the islands.”
“This is exciting,” she said, putting her hand on his.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Teddy replied. “I just want to tie up some loose ends here.” He looked across the room at Holly again. He would be sorry to say goodbye to her.
FORTY-NINE
IRENE FOSTER WALKED into the Barn’s front desk and asked for Lance Cabot. “Ma’am, may I see some I.D.?” the man at the desk asked.
She noted that, as he spoke, one hand went below the desktop. Security was pretty good here. It was her first visit to the Barn since it had opened, and she was looking forward to seeing the place. She handed him her Agency I.D.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the man said, picking up a phone. “Ms. Irene Foster to see you, Mr. Cabot. Yes, sir.” He hung up the phone and turned back to Irene. “Please take the elevator to the twelfth floor; you’ll be met there.”
“Thank you.” Irene rode up in the elevator and was met by an attractive, fortyish woman.
“Ms. Foster? I’m Holly Barker,” the woman said. “Please come with me to Lance’s office.”
So this was the girl Teddy was so interested in, Irene thought, following her down the hallway. She was more attractive than she had imagined, and she felt a pang of jealousy.
Lance stood up to greet her as she came into his office. “Irene, it’s good to see you somewhere other than on a teleconference,” he said, shaking her hand. “You’ve met my assistant, Holly Barker?”
“Yes, but I didn’t even know you had an assistant,” Irene replied.
“I wanted to give her a chance at some supervisory work,” Lance said. “How’s Hugh English?”
“Oh, about the same, I think. He asked me to look in on you and see how things were going in the hunt for Teddy Fay.”
Lance sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to report,” he said. “We keep trying new things, but so far, he’s been very slippery.”
“That’s not going to sound very good to Hugh, Lance, or to the director.”
“Irene, you can tell Hugh for me-and the director, too-that if anybody at Langley thinks they can do a better job up here, I’ll step aside in a flash. Quite frankly, I’m getting tired of being Langley’s cop, and as nice a guy as Kerry Smith is, I’m tired of having to deal with the FBI on everything I do.”
“Now, Lance,” Irene said placatingly, “everybody at Langley, including the director, knows how good you are, and we all know we don’t have anybody better. You just keep plugging away at this, and, eventually, you’ll get a break and capitalize on it.”
“I hope to God you’re right,” Lance said.
“I read your report on the extra surveillance you’re putting on likely targets; I think that’s a very good idea.”
“Well, we were a little late coming up with it,” Lance said. “You’ll recall we lost the first name on the list before we could act.”
“It happens,” she said. “Don’t be discouraged. By the way, you got my e-mail about Ali ben Saud, I hope.”
“Yes, but I don’t understand why we’ve had to pull surveillance on him. I should think he’d be a prime target for Teddy.”
“Things are pretty tense with the Saudis right now,” Irene said, “and Hugh felt it could hurt the political situation with them if ben Saud or his people made your people.”
“I understand,” Lance said. “Is this something the president has asked for?”
“No, it was Hugh’s decision, on his own authority.”
“How are Hugh and the director getting along these days?”
“As well as can be expected.”
“Is he ever going to retire?”
“Not until he has to.” She paused. “I’m thinking of putting in for it myself, though.”
“Really? I thought you’d outlast Hugh.”
“Even if I did, I’d never get his job, and I’m a little weary, Lance. I think I’d like to live in a sunnier climate, bake my bones a bit.”
“Have you said anything to Hugh about this?”
“Not yet, but I’ve pretty much decided to go and see him on Monday morning.”
“You don’t want to see the Teddy Fay thing through?”
“Look, it’s just another operation; there’ve been hundreds before it, and there’ll be hundreds after it. Anyway, I feel helpless on this o
ne. You’re at the pointed end of this effort; all I’m doing is shuffling papers.”
“Well, I’ll be sorry to see you go Irene. Where’d you have to mind?”
“I don’t know, someplace in the islands, I guess. Have you spent any time down there?”
“Ten years ago I was acting station chief, working out of St Thomas.”
“Did you like it there?”
“It was all right; I liked the islands farther south-St. Kitts, St. Barts-better. Those were really nice.”
“I’ve read good things about St. Barts,” she said. “Maybe I'll get on the Internet and have a closer look at it, check out the property prices.” This was working out well, getting a recommendation from Lance.
“What else can I do for you while you’re here?” Lance asked.
“I’d love to take a look at your facility,” Irene replied. “Could Holly show me around?”
“Sure.” He buzzed Holly and instructed her.
THEIR TOUR FINISHED, Holly escorted Irene back to the front lobby.
“Thank you so much, Holly,” Irene said, taking her hand. “It was very kind of you to take the time to show me the building.”
Holly shook her hand. “I was very pleased to do so.”
“By the way,” Irene said, “we hear good things about you from time to time. Keep up the good work.”
“I’ll do my best,” Holly said.
Irene went out into the cold streets, the jealousy burning in her breast. She needed to get Teddy out of New York fast. She knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t going to leave Holly Barker alone.
FIFTY
TEDDY WALKED SLOWLY DOWN Fifth Avenue, wearing what appeared to be a broken nose, a brown Vandyke beard and a reversible topcoat with the tweed side out. He wore a soft felt hat and carried a shopping bag with a few wrapped empty boxes peeking out, and he could still see Holly, who had obligingly worn a bright red woolen tarn. The tall, thin man, whom Teddy had now identified as her father, Hamilton Barker, from has military records, was with her. He didn’t know, yet, who the redhead on his arm was, and he suspected that she was an Agency or Bureau colleague of Holly’s.
The three of them passed St. Patrick’s Cathedral, paused in front of Saks Fifth Avenue and gazed at the giant Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. Then they crossed the street and walked into the arcade that led to the skating rink.
Teddy dallied in front of Saks for a minute or two, since he didn’t have to worry about losing the three while they looked at the skaters and the tree. He used the pause to try and identify Holly’s tailing team.
There would be four of them, he knew, and they would dress against type, as he had. He had his doubts about a woman pushing a baby carriage, who was ignoring the Saks windows and looking at the crowd instead. Chances were, a doll occupied the carriage. He liked a man, too, wearing a fat down jacket and a lumberjack’s cap with earflaps. The man should have been smart enough not to wear suit trousers and wingtips with that outfit. The other two team members, he reckoned, would be working closer to Holly.
He crossed the street when the pedestrian stoplight changed, and he had just reached the other side and was entering the arcade when he heard three gunshots. A.45, he thought immediately, and the sound came from near the skating rink.
Suddenly, the thick crowd in the arcade became a tidal wave of people, all running away from the gunfire. Teddy flattened himself against a shop front and his hand closed on the little Keltec.380 in his coat pocket. He looked back toward Saks and saw that the mother with the baby carriage had abandoned her young and was crossing Fifth Avenue as best she could through the traffic and against the running crowd. So much for the safety of her “child.”
As the crowd quickly drained from the arcade, Teddy looked toward the skating rink and saw a man carrying a semiautomatic pistol in each hand, spinning like a dervish and firing random shots at people and through shop windows. Two shoppers were down, and there was broken glass everywhere. Then Teddy saw the man with Holly, one hand behind his back, walking quickly toward the shooter. Teddy began edging up the arcade toward Fifth Avenue, keeping his back to the buildings and his hand on the gun.
Then, for no apparent reason, the shooter stopped spinning and started walking backward, directly toward Teddy. His attention seemed occupied with something further down the arcade, and Teddy saw that it must be Ham Barker, who was walking calmly toward the man. He knew that Barker held a gun behind him, and that, as soon as he was a little closer to the shooter, he was going to start firing himself. Teddy was behind the shooter, in a direct line. If a slug from Barker missed or overpenetrated the shooter, Teddy was in line to catch it, and he didn’t want that.
He backed into a doorway, took the Keltec from his pocket and held it at waist level, keeping it close to his body. The shooter was maybe eight feet away now, and that was close enough. Teddy fired two rounds at the man’s spine; almost simultaneously, he heard two other shots, probably from a 9mm. He left the doorway and walked quickly toward Fifth.
Teddy didn’t look back to see what was happening. He put his gun hand back into his pocket, turned left and headed for the corner of 50th Street. A sea of people were rushing across Fifth Avenue through the stalled traffic, and he joined them and headed down 50th toward Madison. As he reached the other side of Fifth he checked the reflection in Saks window and saw in the crowd the man in the down coat and lumberjack’s cap coming toward him. He seemed to be speaking into his left fist.
Teddy continued down 50th Street, then, as he approached the side entrance to Saks, he ducked down in the crowd and pushed his way toward the revolving door. He was inside the store in a second, and he didn’t wait to see if his pursuer was behind him. He turned left and walked as quickly as he could toward the long bank of elevators. The white dial over one turned red, and Teddy ran for it, pushing his way inside just as the doors began closing. Looking back the way he had come, he saw the man in fee lumberjack cap come in through the revolving doors. The elevator doors closed, and the crowded car started up. Teddy thought the man saw him at the last possible moment.
BACK IN THE ROCKEFELLER CENTER arcade Holly was running toward Ham, her 9mm in one hand and her I.D. wallet in the other.
She held the I.D. in the air, with the wallet open, and the gun out in front of her, the safety off and her finger alongside the trigger guard. She heard four shots, spaced very close together and saw the shooter go down. It was unlike Ham to fire more than twice, since he always hit what he was shooting at.
The shooter was on the ground, but he was moving, and there was still a gun in each hand. Ham was approaching him, his gun in both hands, and Holly ran up beside him. “I’ll get one hand,” she said.
“Right,” Ham said, but his eyes never left the shooter.
Holly saw a woman from the Barn approaching from Fifth Avenue, holding a gun. There seemed to be guns everywhere. Holly walked up to the shooter and put her foot on his right wrist, while Ham did the same to his left. She put her weight on his wrist, and his hand opened. She bent and picked up his gun, while Ham took the other one, but she did not let her attention stray from the shooter.
“Ham,” she said, “do you still have that Orchid Beach P.D. badge I gave you?”
“Yep,” Ham said.
“Get it out and wave it when the cops come. We don’t want them shooting at us.”
“Right.” Ham was digging in his pocket.
Then cops came from everywhere.
TEDDY GOT OFF the elevator on the sixth-floor men’s department, turned right and walked into the men’s room. He went into a stall, reversed his coat so that the raincoat side was now out, folded his felt hat and put it into the coat pocket, took a tweed cap from the other pocket and put that on, then pulled off the Vandyke and nose and put those in his pockets.
He left his shopping bag on the toilet seat, went to a sink and turned on the water, then checked his reflection. There were bits of spirit gum clinging to his face and he wiped it clean
with a damp towel. He left a dollar for the attendant, then walked out of the men’s room, past the elevators to the escalator, donning a pair of heavy, black-rimmed glasses as he walked. As he started down he saw two men walking very quickly away from him through the men’s department, gun hands in their pockets, talking into their fists. He began walking down the escalator to make his descent faster.
HOLLY FRISKED THE DOWNED SHOOTER for more weapons and found none, just the two.45s, but he had half a dozen full magazines in his overcoat pockets. He had stopped moving, now, and she thought he must be dead. “Ham, how many rounds did you fire?”
“Two,” Ham replied.
Two holes in the man’s chest were oozing blood.
“I heard two more,” Holly said.
“So did I, but it wasn’t me. The gun noise was a little light, maybe a.380.”
Holly looked at the woman from the team, “Did you fire your weapon?”
“No,” the woman said.
“Who did?” Holly asked.
“I think it was Teddy Fay,” she replied.
Then the police were in charge. Holly identified herself and Ham, and they talked to a detective for half an hour as he covered the scene.
“He’s got two holes in his chest and two in his back,” the detective said. “Who was the other shooter?”
“I’ve no idea,” Holly replied.
FIFTY-ONE
LANCE WAS SITTING AT HIS DESK, disconsolately working his way through some administrative paperwork, when his cell phone vibrated on his belt.
“Yes?”
A man’s excited voice riveted his attention. “He’s in Saks!” he panted.
“Who?”
“Teddy Fay. There was some sort of commotion and gunfire over at Rockefeller Plaza, and I spotted a man who fits the description crossing the street and ducking into the store. Request maximum backup!”
“Easy now,” Lance said. “Did anybody else make him?”
“Martin did; she radioed me, and I was on my way when I saw the guy. He matched the description.”
