Reckless Abandon

by Stuart Woods

  “Can I get you some coffee?” Stone asked.

  “Thanks, but your secretary provided that, in spite of her suspicions.”

  “What brings you to New York, Lance?”

  “I live here now, a few blocks uptown.”

  Stone’s jaw dropped. “Aren’t you a fugitive? Is that why you’re here, looking for a lawyer?”

  Lance shook his head. “I’m not a fugitive, and I don’t need a lawyer, at least for myself.”

  “For someone else?”

  “Maybe, but not just yet.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m baffled by all this. I thought you were being sought by every intelligence agency and police department in Europe, not to mention your own former people.”

  “They’re not former,” Lance said. He fished a wallet out of his pocket and handed it to Stone.

  Stone found himself staring at a CIA ID card, complete with photograph. “How long have you had this back?”

  “I always had it,” Lance said. “Let me explain. When Hedger hired you—”

  “Hedger was CIA, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, he was, but he was led to believe that I had gone rogue. That’s why he was looking for me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s complicated. I was sent over there to . . . well, ostensibly to acquire a British invention, a piece of military hardware, you will recall, and sell it to a Middle Eastern country—Iraq, as it happens.”

  “The CIA wanted you to steal British military hardware and sell it to Saddam Hussein?”

  “Yes. Well, not really. You see, Hedger wanted the hardware, too, ostensibly for our nuclear weapons program. He really wanted it to help him regain the Agency’s high regard, in which he had formerly been held.”

  “This is very confusing: The Agency had two agents trying to steal the hardware, working at cross-purposes?”

  “Now you’ve got it.”

  “And you were supposed to sell it to Saddam Hussein?”

  “Yes, and I did, but not before it had been modified to make it useless. It needed the right software, too, and he didn’t have that, but by that time, I had his money and was gone. You got a very nice slice of those funds, too. What did you do with the money?”

  “I paid the taxes on it and invested the rest, as my accountant recommended.”

  “Good,” Lance said. “Just what I would have done.”

  “Lance, it worries me to think I did what you would have done.”

  Lance laughed. “You have nothing to worry about, Stone. You’re clean as a whistle.”

  “Does your agency know that I was paid the money?”

  “Of course. I had a little trouble convincing them, but after I had repeatedly pointed out how valuable you had been to us, they agreed.”

  “But I was supposed to be helping the British.”

  “Well, yes, but you were really helping us all the time.”

  “Did the British know this?”

  Lance pursed his lips. “Not exactly, but they do now. After all, I helped rid them of a man in their midst who was willing to sell their technology to anybody. Why do you care?”

  “As it happens, I’ve spent a good deal of time in the company of one of their people, a woman called Carpenter.”

  “Felicity Devonshire?” Lance laughed aloud.

  “I didn’t even know that was her name until a few months ago.”

  “She’s a piece of work, that girl. Did you know that, at this very moment, she’s being considered to replace Sir Edward Fieldstone as head of her service? If she gets the job, she’ll be the first woman to do so. She was prominently mentioned in the last Birthday Honours List, too. She’s now Dame Felicity.”

  “I didn’t know any of that,” Stone said. “We parted on less than the best terms.”

  “Pity,” Lance said. “She’s a remarkable woman. My people are rooting for her to get the job.”

  “Good for her. Now, why did you come to see me, Lance?”

  Lance chuckled. “I thought I might send some more business your way.”

  6

  STONE’S FIRST REACTION was to send Lance on his way, but, as it happened, things had been a little slow in the way of work, and a fresh injection of business could help his cash flow. “What are we talking about?” he asked.

  “Just a little legal work,” Lance replied, studying his well-manicured nails.

  “Look at me when you lie to me, Lance.”

  Lance looked up. “Why do you think I’m lying?”

  “Because you’ve never said anything to me that was the truth. Ever.”

  Lance shrugged. “Surely you understand that that was business. I was carrying out an assignment important to the national interest, and you were helping.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know that.”

  “I wasn’t allowed to tell you, and it was important that you didn’t know. In fact, you never would have been involved at all, if I hadn’t been in a situation of, shall we say, temporarily interrupted cash flow. I needed your quarter of a million, which you very kindly supplied, and you made a very tidy profit from the arrangement. Where else could you have gotten a return of four hundred percent in less than thirty days?”

  “Everybody was lying to me, especially Hedger.”

  “Hedger is dead. Did I mention that?”

  Stone took a quick breath. “No, you didn’t. Do I want to know how and why? I assume he didn’t keel over of a coronary.”

  “No, he was expertly stabbed by somebody who worked for you.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Stone demanded.

  “Remember those two retired British cops you hired to follow me around London and bug my house?”

  Stone hadn’t known that Lance knew about that, so he said nothing.

  “You’ll remember that Hedger’s people beat up one of them very badly, so badly that he later expired.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, his mate took exception to that and held Hedger accountable. He knifed him in a mews a short walk from the Connaught, while you were still in London.”

  “I didn’t know,” Stone said.

  “Scotland Yard hushed it up, the knifer having been one of their own. Had an exemplary military record, too, killing people in the Special Air Services. That detective inspector, Throckmorton—unlikely name, isn’t it?—didn’t think a shady American spook’s life was worth a blip in the happy retirement of one of their former officers.”

  “And what did the Agency have to say about that?”

  “Almost nothing. Somebody gave Throckmorton a good lunch and received the details. They shook hands and went their separate ways. Hedger is now a star on the memorial in the lobby of the headquarters building at Langley.”

  “The more I learn about your business, the less I want to learn about it.”

  “You shouldn’t feel badly about Hedger. He was a bad apple; been using his position for years to enrich himself in various underhanded ways, and the Agency was sick of him. Good riddance and no trial or publicity. His death didn’t even make the tabloids, let alone the Times. His alumni newsletter ran a nice obit, though, most of it lies.”

  “An ignominious end,” Stone mused.

  “In Hedger’s case, deservedly so.”

  “What is this legal work you want done? It isn’t illegal work, is it?”

  “Oh, no, no, nothing like that. It’s pretty simple, really: A fellow we hired for some contract work got himself into a scrape with the local law, and—”

  ” The local law where?”

  “Right here in Gotham, actually.”

  “Go on.”

  “There’s a DUI and some other minor stuff involved. He needs a lawyer, and we feel honor bound to provide him with one. We’ll pay five hundred an hour.”

  Stone’s normal fee for that sort of thing was three hundred an hour. “That is not ungenerous.”

  “We don’t want it to go to trial, you see; could be embarrassing and might even reveal i
nformation detrimental to national security.”

  “You mean, detrimental to the Central Intelligence Agency.”

  “Same thing. Do we have a deal?” Lance held out his hand to shake.

  “Oh, all right,” Stone said, shaking the hand. He picked up a pen and pad. “What’s your client’s name?”

  “Herbert Fisher, a professional photographer by trade.”

  Stone nearly choked. “Oh, no, no, no, no,” he said, holding out his hands as if to ward off evil.

  “You know Mr. Fisher?” Lance asked, looking surprised.

  “I know him far better than I want to,” Stone said.

  “Well, come to think of it, he did ask for you. I’m glad you’ve agreed.”

  “Wait a minute, Lance. I’m not doing this. The guy is trouble from beginning to end—he won’t take legal advice, won’t do anything he’s told.”

  “Stone, Stone, it’s a simple matter, really. We just want you to negotiate something for him—get him off, if possible, sure, but we can’t let it go to trial.”

  “Lance, sometimes these things go to trial, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Stone, we can do something about it, if necessary, but we’d rather let you handle it in the normal way.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that, Lance.”

  Lance held up a placating hand. “Now don’t go reading a subtext into my words.”

  “Do you know Herbie Fisher?” Stone asked.

  “We’ve met.”

  “Well, let me tell you about him. Last year, I hired him—on the recommendation of a guy who does a lot of good work for me—to take some photographs. A domestic matter. Herbie fell through the skylight while taking the pictures, got himself arrested, then, when I got him out, jumped bail and ran for the Virgin Islands. I had to go down there and get him back to make his court appearance and get my bail money back.”

  “Well, he does sound lively, doesn’t he? He did come well recommended.”

  “Lance, you don’t want anything to do with this guy, and neither do I.”

  “Fine with me, Stone. See him through this, and we’ll both kiss him off.”

  “You’re not listening, Lance. I won’t represent him.”

  “But you’ve already agreed, old sport, and you’re a man of your word.”

  “But I didn’t know who we were talking about.”

  “Then you should have asked before we shook hands on it, not afterward.”

  “Lance . . .”

  “Tell you what: We’ll make it seven-fifty an hour, in cash, and I’ll send you over a retainer of twenty-five thousand. You can bank the unused portion, or stuff it into your mattress.”

  That stopped Stone in his tracks just long enough for Lance to place a card on his desk, get up, and walk out of his office.

  “Thanks, Stone,” Lance called over his shoulder. “Herbert will be in touch. Let’s have dinner.” He closed the door behind him.

  “Oh, God,” Stone moaned.

  7

  STONE WAS DRESSING when Holly and Daisy returned from their walk.

  “Hi there,” she said.

  Stone looked at his watch. “That was a long walk.”

  “We went all the way to the north end of the park and back; really had a workout.”

  “You’d better grab a shower, then. Dino called and said he has some information for you. We’re meeting him at Elaine’s in an hour.”

  “I’ll feed Daisy and change my socks,” Holly said, and headed upstairs.

  They settled into their table, and Elaine came over and sat down. “What’s up?”

  “This is my friend Holly Barker, who’s visiting from Florida,” Stone said.

  The two women shook hands.

  “Are you the lady cop?” Elaine asked.

  “That’s right. How did you know?”

  “I read the papers. Not that Stone would have ever mentioned you.”

  “There wasn’t a lot to mention,” Stone said. “We met only once, before this week.”

  “Once has always been enough for you,” Elaine said, rising to hop to the next table.

  “What was that supposed to mean?” Holly asked.

  “Pay no attention to Elaine,” Stone replied. “She likes to needle me.”

  “About women?”

  “About whatever she can think of.”

  Dino came in, hung up his coat, sat down, and ordered a Scotch.

  “What would you like, Holly?”

  “A three-to-one vodka gimlet, straight up, shaken, very cold,” she said to the waiter.

  “Make it two,” Stone said.

  “Sounds good. Cancel my Scotch and make it three,” Dino echoed.

  “I’m glad to be able to influence opinion,” Holly said. “What information do you have for me, Dino?”

  “You’re right. Your guy, Rodriguez, is in town. He’s been hanging out at the La Boheme coffeehouse in Little Italy.”

  “Holly’s a little ahead of you, Dino. We had lunch down there, and she spotted Trini and gave chase.”

  “No shit? What do you need me for?”

  “Well,” Holly said, “I didn’t know about the La Boheme coffeehouse.”

  “It’s a mob joint. There’s at least two bookies and a loan shark working out of there.”

  “Maybe tomorrow I’ll stop in for a cup of coffee.”

  “Not without a SWAT team to back you up,” Dino said. “They don’t cotton to the company of women in that place.”

  “Maybe it’s time I brought them up to date.”

  “Not unless you enjoy the sound of your bones breaking. They’re not friendly to outsiders of any kind, but especially women.”

  “I’m sure there’s a New York City ordinance that prohibits such behavior. Why don’t you come down there with me and enforce it?”

  “Because no law enforcement agency, local or federal, wants to disturb the action in the joint. Just between you and me, there’s probably more audio and video equipment installed in the walls there than at the Wiz.”

  “What’s the Wiz?”

  “A great big audio and video store.”

  “I get the picture. Maybe I should just go down there and park outside until Trini shows up, then take him.”

  “Holly, you’re not listening. You try to take somebody in that coffee shop, and a shooting war will break out. I wasn’t kidding about the SWAT team.”

  “Can you arrange a SWAT team for me, Dino?”

  “You got an extradition warrant?”

  “It’s in my handbag, right next to Stone’s Walther.”

  “Tell you what: If you can get the governor of Florida to call the governor of New York, and the governor to call the mayor of the city, and the mayor to call the police commissioner, and the commissioner to call the chief of detectives, and the chief to call me and order me to do it, then I’ll do it.”

  “Dino, you sound reluctant.”

  “What gave you that idea? Was it something I said?”

  Stone spoke up. “Holly, the best you’re going to get out of the NYPD, except in the circumstances Dino described, is for them to look the other way until you’re on an airplane south with Trini trussed up like a turkey.”

  “Dino, did you hear anything about what name Trini is using in the Witness Protection Program?”

  “He’s using Trini at the La Boheme. Outside, who knows?”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Holly said, digging her cell phone out of her purse.

  “That’s it,” Dino said. “Call the director of the FBI. I’m sure he’ll be helpful.”

  Holly dialed two zeros, then another digit. “Hello, may I please have the number, under the United States Government, Department of Justice, for the Federal Bureau of Investigation field office in American Samoa? S-A-M-O-A. It’s a bunch of tiny islands in the South Pacific. I’ll hold.” She turned to Stone. “Got a pen?”

  Stone handed her his.

  “Yes, that’s right.” She grabbed a cocktail napkin a
nd jotted down a long number. “And everything but the last seven digits is the dialing code? Thank you very much.” She punched off.

  “What time is it in Samoa?” Dino asked.

  “I don’t even know what day it is,” Holly said, dialing the long number. “It’s ringing. Hello, may I speak with Harry Crisp, please? Tell him it’s Holly Barker calling.” She nodded at Stone and waited.

  “Hello, Harry? Can you hear me okay?. . . Why, Harry, that’s not a very nice thing to say. And I was trying to be helpful. . . . How? Well, I’ve been feeling badly about your getting transferred to the Pacific Rim, and I thought I might be helpful in getting you back to the States. . . . Well, I don’t know for sure if I can do that, but I can certainly put in a word with Deputy Director Barron, the guy who shipped you out there. . . . Well, of course there’s a tit for tat, Harry. Did you think you’d get my help for free? Actually, it’s a very easy one for you. All I want is the name the Bureau gave Trini Rodriguez in the Witness Protection Program. . . . Yes, Harry, I’m aware that that’s highly confidential,” Holly continued, “but when you weigh a slight breach of confidentiality against a ticket home, well . . . Look, Harry, you’re the guy who put him into the Program. You don’t even have to tap a few computer keys; the name is right there, lodged in your frontal lobe. They haven’t lobotomized you, have they, Harry? . . . Now, how could this possibly get you in trouble? Nobody will know except me. I just want to look up Trini and say hello. He’s of no further use to you, not that he ever was. You were just trying to keep me from arresting and trying him in my jurisdiction.

  “Come on, Harry, cough it up. Look, I can’t specify a new assignment for you, but honestly, wouldn’t anywhere be better? . . . I didn’t even know you had an office in Alaska. Would you like me to request Nome for you? Only joking, Harry. Now give me the name and you won’t hear from me again. And if you don’t give me the name, you might never hear from anybody again.” Holly listened and jotted something on her napkin. “Thank you so much, Harry. I’ll give Deputy Director Barron a call tomorrow, first thing. No, it’s dinnertime here, Harry. Bye-bye.”