Unintended Consequences

by Stuart Woods

  “Well, Mike comes out of the world of intelligence, and he insists on client confidentiality.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Marcel said, “since he will invariably learn much about my business.”

  They ordered drinks, and to Stone’s surprise, Marcel asked for a Knob Creek.

  “Do you have a principal business, Marcel?” Dino asked.

  “My father was a hotelier, and I worked in that business in my extreme youth. When he died I took over the hotels he owned and grew from there. I was helped by the fact that my father had established a chain of hairdressers in the hotels, and the cash flow from them was very useful to me. After that, I learned to invest well, in all sorts of businesses. My latest venture is my new car, the Blaise, named for my son, who was killed some years ago in a motor racing accident.”

  “What sort of car is it?” Dino asked.

  “There’s one in Stone’s garage,” Marcel replied. “I won’t blunt the impact by telling you about it ahead of time.” He turned toward Stone. “By the way, would you allow me to display your car at the New York Auto Show next week? I would need it from Monday afternoon.”

  “Of course. Have someone pick it up, and Joan will give them the keys.”

  “Don’t worry, it won’t be driven, it will be flat-bedded.”

  “That’s fine. By the way, some rather noisy work is going to be done on my house over the weekend, and I thought you might enjoy seeing a little of New England. I have a house in a small village called Washington, and Helga will be here, as well. Would you like to drive up in the Blaise? I haven’t driven it yet.”

  “That sounds delightful,” Marcel said.

  “Dino, would you and Viv like to come?”

  “Sorry, pal, we’ve got plans.”

  “I saw your new car outside. How’s the job going?”

  “Yes, please tell me about your job,” Marcel said.

  “Oh, it’s nothing to write home about,” Dino replied.

  “That’s an outright lie,” Stone said. “Perhaps I should tell you that Dino is the new chief of all detectives, in all five boroughs of New York City.”

  “Does that mean you have to be a politician as well as a detective?” Marcel asked.

  “It better not mean that, because I’d be lousy at it.”

  “That’s a somewhat smaller lie,” Stone said, “but a lie, nevertheless. Dino has always worked the system very well, something I was never good at.”

  Their drinks arrived, and they looked at the menu.

  “What do you recommend?” Marcel asked.

  “Start with the Caesar salad, then choose whatever entrée sounds good,” Stone replied. “The cooking is very good.”

  “Have any interesting cases crossed your desk, Dino?” Stone asked.

  “Well, we have a Russian gangster somewhere in the city,” Dino replied. “The feds had a stop order on him, but he got in before it hit the computers. Name of Majorov.”

  Stone gulped, but Marcel didn’t know the name. “I’m sure you’ll bag him,” he said.

  “I’ll let the feds worry about him,” Dino said.

  “I have had my problems with Russian gangsters,” Marcel said. “Stone, do you think this man Majorov has anything to do with that?”

  “I’m afraid he does,” Stone admitted. “I didn’t want to worry you with it, but I spoke to Lance Cabot today, and he told me about it. Mike Freeman is taking all necessary precautions.”

  “Ah, good,” Marcel said. “But I would be grateful if you would not keep information from me. I would rather be worried, but aware.”

  “I apologize,” Stone said. “In fact, Lance believes that Majorov was in the car that attacked us on the way to Le Bourget.”

  Dino’s face showed interest. “You were attacked?”

  Stone told him about the incident with the Mercedes. “One man died in the Seine, the other, Majorov, survived.”

  “I’m extremely sorry to hear that,” Marcel said.

  “By the way,” Stone said, “Lance asked me to pass along some information to you. He says that a German businessman of your acquaintance, one Horst Schnell, has had sixty million euros stolen from him in a computer scam perpetrated by the same people who have tried to do you harm.”

  “Well, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer fellow,” Marcel replied, laughing. “The man is a snake in the weeds—is that how you say it?”

  “In the grass,” Stone said. “Lance has recommended that you ask Mike Freeman to audit your computers and make security recommendations.”

  “I will ask Mike to do that tomorrow,” Marcel replied. “And thank Lance for me when you speak to him again.”

  They ordered steaks, then the headwaiter appeared with a cart and a large wooden salad bowl and began to create a Caesar salad from fresh ingredients.

  • • •

  During dinner Stone got a text from Helga, saying that she would take the airplane from Stockholm as he had scheduled. He went to bed that night with fond memories of her lush body in his arms.

  37

  Two days later, Marcel had an early meeting with auto show officials about his display, and Stone was at his desk when three men arrived, carrying valises, boxes, and tools.

  “I’m Joe,” their leader said, offering his hand.

  “Good morning, Joe. You want to tell me exactly what you’re putting in?”

  “The best security system in a private house in New York City,” Joe replied. “If you can dream up a function, it can do it.”

  “All right, but stop by and explain it to me when you’re done.”

  “Give me an eight-digit code,” Joe said.

  Stone gave him a familiar mix of letters and numbers, and Joe and his colleagues went to work, starting at the top of the house.

  Stone asked Joan to phone his Connecticut housekeeper and have her lay in groceries for the weekend, then Mike Freeman called.

  “Lance Cabot called yesterday. A guy named Majorov from Paris has made it past immigration. I think Lance was ashamed to tell you.”

  “And well he should be,” Stone said. “By the way, Marcel is going to call you about auditing his computer systems and making security recommendations. An acquaintance of his in Germany just got stung for sixty million euros.”

  “He has already done so. We’re on it.”

  “I’m getting Marcel out of town for the weekend. Lance is having my windows replaced with more substantial ones, and I’m nervous about the presence of Majorov in New York.”

  “Good idea. I’ll let my people know.”

  “We’re going to drive the Blaise, leaving after lunch tomorrow, and I’d like your people to follow in the Bentley, in case something alarms us and we need shelter for Marcel.”

  “Good idea.” They hung up.

  It occurred to Stone that he was nervous for Helga’s safety, as well as Marcel’s, since it was she who had taken out the Russians’ man Aldo.

  Joe suddenly appeared at his office door. “Mr. Barrington,” he said, holding up something electronic-looking. “We’ve already found two bugs in your house. I take it you have enemies?”

  Stone followed Joe upstairs and looked at the telephone panel he had opened.

  “Right there,” Joe said, pointing. “Your office line and your line one.”

  “Any idea how long?” Stone asked.

  “It’s not the latest stuff,” Joe replied. “It could have been there for a couple of years.”

  Stone sighed. It seemed to him that anyone could bug his phones or his house whenever they felt like it. “Joe, I hope when you’re done here it won’t be as easy to bust into my system.”

  “Fear not,” Joe said. “Only I could do it.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” Stone said.

  “Another thing, though,” Joe said,
holding up the bugs. “This equipment broadcasts a signal from your house that’s not good for more than a block or two. Whoever was listening in was probably doing so within sight of your house.”

  “Where was the equipment made?” Stone asked.

  “Well, it doesn’t have ‘Made in USA’ stamped on it, or anywhere else, but it could as easily be European, Japanese, Chinese, or homegrown.”

  “I’ll feel better when you’re done and the windows are in,” Stone said. “My guest and I are getting out of here Friday, and we’ll be gone until Monday morning, so we’ll be out of your way.”

  “I’ll be all done when you get back,” Joe said. “I’ll brief you and your secretary on the system on Monday.”

  “Good,” Stone said, then went back to his office. His cell phone buzzed, and he checked it. A text from Helga: We are departing on time, ETA Teterboro 6 PM local. Marcel’s lawyers will give me a lift into NYC. I have your address. Expect me in time for dinner and hungry.

  He texted back: Received, understood and looking forward.

  • • •

  In the late afternoon Marcel returned from his meeting.

  “I think we’ll dine at home this evening,” Stone said to him. “Helga will be in around seven.”

  “I’ll have a nap, then,” Marcel said. “Wake me in time for drinks.”

  Stone went back to work.

  • • •

  It was nearly seven-thirty when Philip answered the door. Stone was right there and Helga rushed into his arms. A heavily laden driver was right behind her, and Stone asked Philip to put everything on the elevator and take it to the master suite.

  “I expect you’d like a bath,” Stone said, “but you don’t look as though you need one.”

  “I had a shower on the airplane,” Helga said, “and it was very comfortable, so I’m well rested. I’m also starved and dying for a drink.”

  Stone took her to his study and rang Marcel to join them.

  “You have a very handsome house,” Helga said. “I’m impressed.”

  “I hope you’ll be very comfortable here,” Stone replied.

  Marcel walked into the study and embraced Helga. “I was worried about you,” he said.

  “Well, now we are both out of Europe and entirely safe.”

  Stone sat them down, poured a martini for Helga and a Knob Creek for himself and Marcel. “Welcome to New York,” he said, and they raised their glasses.

  “This is my first trip to New York,” Helga said, “and I’m so excited.”

  “I will be sure to show you the city,” Stone said, “but I have to tell you that none of us may be as safe here as you had hoped. Majorov is already in the city.”

  Helga seemed unfazed. “Then I will be armed and glad to see him,” she said.

  Marcel burst out laughing. “Then I will be very well protected!”

  “Helga,” Stone said, “I’m afraid that you can’t go packing in New York City. There are very strict laws against that. You must have a permit, and they are nearly impossible to obtain.”

  Helga dug into her handbag. “Oh, do you mean this?” she said, handing him a New York City carry permit.

  “How the hell did you get this?” Stone demanded. “Is it a forgery? Because if it is . . .”

  “Calm yourself, Stone,” Helga said. “It’s from Lance. The helicopter pilot handed it to me when he arrived at my house this morning. And my passport has a diplomatic visa stamped inside.”

  “Then Marcel is very well protected indeed,” Stone said.

  Philip came into the room. “Dinner is served in the kitchen,” he announced, and they followed him downstairs.

  38

  Stone was at his desk just before noon when Joan buzzed. “Dino on one.”

  “Good morning, Dino.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You sound a little pissed off,” Stone observed.

  “Our plans for the weekend have been canceled. Viv has to work.”

  “The pains of employment in the private sector,” Stone said.

  “It’s not all bad, she’s been assigned to Marcel’s security detail, so count on having both of us in Connecticut.”

  “Good news!” Stone said.

  “If you say so.”

  “Don’t worry, Dino, it’s a strongly built house with thick walls. Nobody will be able to hear your pitiful cries.”

  “What time?”

  “We’re leaving at one. Don’t be late. And, Dino?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Pack—we can use the extra security.”

  “Will do.” Dino hung up.

  Stone buzzed Joan and asked her to warn the housekeeper that she would have a full house for the weekend and to lay in Dino’s scotch.

  • • •

  At a quarter to one, Stone, Dino, and Viv stood in front of his garage door. While Viv turned her back to them and surveyed the street, Stone pressed his remote control, and sunlight flooded the garage.

  “Good God!” Dino said. “What is that thing?”

  Stone pressed a button on his key, and both gull-wing doors opened silently, exposing the interior of the car. He and Dino walked into the garage.

  “How many cows died to make this happen?” Dino asked, fingering the leather.

  “A herd,” Stone replied. Stone started the car and backed up, double-parking in the best New York fashion. He got out and handed the Bentley keys to Viv. “Dino tells me you finished at the top of your tactical driving course,” he said.

  Viv accepted the keys with a grin. “Did he also tell you that I finished at the top of my extreme driving class at Lime Rock?”

  “He didn’t mention that, and I’m sorry you did,” Stone replied. “Just remember that the slightest ding on that car costs a fortune to repair—twenty-three coats of paint.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind until I forget it,” she said, and went to back the car out of the garage.

  Philip loaded their luggage into both vehicles; Viv and her two colleagues got into the Bentley, and after introducing Helga to the Bacchettis, Stone, Dino, Marcel, and Helga got into the Blaise.

  “Astonishingly comfortable for four people,” Helga said.

  “I insisted on that,” Marcel said. “I prefer riding in the backseat.”

  Stone pressed the button lowering the gull wings, started the car, and drove to the West Side Highway. Traffic was light, and soon they were on the beautiful Sawmill River Parkway, built in the 1930s, winding north under a series of handsome stone bridges. They blew past the other traffic.

  “You know,” Dino said, “Rolls-Royce used to say that at sixty miles an hour, the loudest noise was the ticking of the clock. Why do I hear wind noise?”

  “We’re doing a hundred and ten,” Stone replied.

  “Holy shit,” Dino muttered. “I guess you’re counting on me to use my badge when we get arrested.”

  “Absolutely,” Stone said. After an hour and thirty minutes, Stone turned into his driveway in Washington, Connecticut. As they got out of the car, he reflected that he had never before made the trip in less than an hour and three-quarters.

  Viv drove the Bentley in behind them and she and her crew got out. “That was one wild ride,” she said. “Why do I feel like we just robbed a bank?”

  “Sorry, it was the first time I’ve driven the Blaise, and I just had to throw it around a little.”

  “Has my hair turned white?” Dino asked.

  “Not yet,” Viv replied, “but you’re working on it. Stone, we had a van behind us for a while, but by the time we left the Sawmill, he was so far back that he couldn’t possibly know where we went.”

  “Describe the van,” Stone said.

  “Black on black with very dark windows. I don’t think it was delivering anything.”

  “Let�
�s put both cars in the garage, in case anybody drives by,” he said, and they did.

  Stone’s housekeeper, Nellie, opened the front door and beamed at them. “We’re all ready for you, Mr. Barrington,” she said. “My daughter, Martha, is helping out.”

  Stone handed out room assignments, and everyone went inside to get settled in.

  • • •

  That evening, they dined at the Mayflower Inn, widely heralded as the best country hotel in the United States, and as they left the inn after dinner to get into their cars, Viv tugged at Stone’s sleeve and nodded toward the other end of the parking lot. A black-on-black van sat there. Stone couldn’t tell if anyone was inside.

  “You leave first,” Viv said. “We’ll block anyone from following you.”

  Stone did as he was instructed, and five minutes after the Blaise was in his garage, Viv and her colleagues pulled into the driveway and got out.

  “Any problems?” Stone asked.

  Viv shook her head. “We checked out the van. It was empty, but locked, so I expect the passengers are either staying at the inn, dining there, or both. I didn’t see anyone suspicious in the dining room or bar, and believe me, I checked. They must be ordering room service.”

  “Did you run the plates?” Stone asked.

  “No cell service around here. I’ll call on your landline.”

  “Please do.”

  They went into the little library, where Nellie had a nice fire going, and settled in with a brandy.

  Viv walked in a couple of minutes later. “The plates on the van belong to a 1989 Buick,” she said. “I’ve called it in to the Connecticut State Police, so their sleep will be disturbed soon.”

  “Have a brandy,” Stone said. “You’re officially off duty now.”

  “You talked me into it,” she said, taking a seat.

  “Stone,” Marcel said, “this is a lovely house. You choose your residences well.”

  “Thank you, Marcel.”

  Five minutes later, Nellie came into the room. “Mrs. Bacchetti, telephone for you.”

  Viv left the room and came back a couple of minutes later.