by Stuart Woods
“Lance, it’s Stone.”
“Nice to hear from you,” Lance said smoothly. “I’ve been hearing about you on the news. Are you okay?”
“Just fine, thanks.”
“What’s that noise in the background?” Lance asked.
“Just road noise,” Stone replied. “I’m in the car.”
“Where you headed?”
“Out of town.”
“Where?”
“If I wanted to get Holly and myself killed, I’d tell you.”
There was a long silence before Lance spoke again. “That’s an odd thing to say,” he said finally.
“I suppose it is,” Stone replied, “but you’re the only person in all this who has the resources to make what’s been happening happen.”
Another long silence. “That’s not an outrageous conclusion to come to, but why do you think I would want you dead?”
“I’m still thinking about that,” Stone said. He pressed the end button on the phone and put it back into its cradle. It was dark now, and the lights of the cities and towns of the Atlantic seaboard stretched out before them. He was glad to be leaving them behind.
32
STONE WOKE, DISORIENTED, with the sun streaming through the windows. He was alone in bed, and he couldn’t hear anyone downstairs.
He found a robe in a closet, put his cell phone in a pocket, and walked downstairs. Nice place, he thought, looking around the living room and the kitchen. He opened the sliding glass doors and stepped outside. Dunes stretched away to his left and right, and the Atlantic Ocean was only yards away. The air was warm and soft, and the small surf made a pleasant noise.
He looked up and down the beach and found himself alone, so he shucked off the robe and ran naked into the sea, running as far as he could, then diving in and swimming away from the shore. Fifty yards out, he turned and swam back in, found his robe, and went back into the house. He found juice, cereal, and milk in the kitchen and made himself some breakfast. He was having coffee when the telephone rang. He let the machine get it.
“Stone, it’s Holly,” she said. “If you’re awake, pick up.”
Stone picked up the phone on the kitchen counter. “Hi.”
“What time did you get up?”
“Just a few minutes ago. I had a swim and some breakfast.”
“Great. Make yourself at home. Daisy and I are at work, and I’ve got a lot of mail to clear up. Did you bring a gun with you?”
“Yep, I brought the Walther.”
“Good. I don’t like to think of you being unarmed, what with all that’s happened.”
“Neither do I. Can I carry in this state?”
“Not with the word ‘retired’ on your police ID. When you get dressed, come to the station and ask for my secretary. She’ll fix you up with something.” She gave him directions. “Use my car. The keys are in a bowl on the kitchen counter.”
“Sounds good.”
“I won’t be here when you come, and I won’t be home until around seven. Can you amuse yourself?”
“I’ll try.”
“See you then.” She hung up.
Stone took a shower and dressed in light clothes, then drove into town and, following Holly’s directions, found the station and asked for her secretary.
A middle-aged woman came to the front desk to get him. “Morning, Mr. Barrington. Would you come this way, please? We’re all ready for you.”
He followed her through the squad room to the rear of the building, where she stood him before a wall and took a photograph of him with a Polaroid passport camera.
She handed him a form and a pen. “Please sign at the bottom.”
Stone signed. She went away and came back with a laminated ID card and a badge in their own wallet.
“Congratulations, you are now a consultant lieutenant with the Orchid Beach Police Department, without pay.”
“Thank you.”
He went back to the car, opened the glove compartment, and took out the Walther in a Galco Executive shoulder holster. He got into the light harness and put his windbreaker on over it. “Now I’m armed and dangerous,” he said aloud to himself.
That evening Stone, Holly, Ham, and his girlfriend, Ginny, a lovely redhead, were at a table at the Ocean Grill, in nearby Vero Beach, sipping vodka gimlets.
“Stone,” Holly said, “do you think Lance could have had anything to do with the people who’ve been trying to kill you and me?”
“It crossed my mind,” Stone said. “Certainly, he has the resources to do it.”
“I can’t think of a motive, can you?”
“Not so far. I can’t think of anything we know that we shouldn’t know. I think it’s a better guess that somebody in the FBI is talking to Trini about us, but I can’t see the FBI sanctioning the killing of two citizens. The whole thing is baffling.”
Ham spoke up. “I think it’s Trini, one way or another, and I don’t think he needs the FBI to help him. From what Holly has told me, he could have followed her to your house, so he would know about you. And just because the Feds are following you, that doesn’t mean that Trini’s people can’t follow you, as well. Lance doesn’t have any reason to kill two people who are supposed to be working for him.”
“Apart from that,” Holly said, “Lance just doesn’t strike me as the killer type.”
“There are all sorts of killer types,” Stone said.
“Too true,” Ham echoed.
Their dinner arrived and they turned the conversation to other things.
They had just arrived back at Holly’s house when Stone’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Lance.”
“Good evening.”
“Our last conversation set me to thinking. I ordered a DNA check of our three anonymous assassins, and I just got a call from my people with the results.”
“You have a database to check the results against?”
“Yes, but they’re not in our database, or the FBI’s.”
“So the tests were useless?”
“As far as identification goes, yes; but the tests turned up some other useful information.”
“What kind of information?”
“It was possible to conclude that all three men were Arab—very likely Lebanese or Syrian.”
“You can tell that from DNA?”
“Yes. Also, they were related—not brothers, but certainly cousins.”
Stone looked at Holly. “So you’re saying that the people who are trying to kill Holly and me are a family of Lebanese or Syrian assassins?”
“You make it sound like something out of The Arabian Nights. More likely, the three cousins are members of the same terrorist cell, that’s all.”
“What do you mean, that’s all? That’s more than enough. Why would a terrorist cell have an interest in Holly and me?”
“I think it’s fairly obvious,” Lance said.
“Well, you’re going to have to make it even more obvious if I’m going to get it.”
“Think about it: Trini Rodriguez is dealing with an Arab group on this money-laundering thing, right?”
“Right.”
“So he tells his contacts that you and Holly are a threat to their transaction.”
“Okay, now it’s obvious.”
“What is also obvious is that by killing three of them, you’ve probably annoyed the other members of the group, so I think you and Holly should stay in Orchid Beach until the FBI has thrown a net over these people.”
“Wait a minute. Why do you think we’re in Orchid Beach?”
“Because you filed a flight plan for Vero Beach, which is the airport serving Holly’s hometown.”
“You figured that out, huh?”
“Yes, but I doubt if your Lebanese friends did. Anyway, I thought you’d like to know that I’m not trying to kill you.”
“And do I know that? You could be making all this up.”
“Stone, use your head. The reason you should
know I’m not trying to kill you is that you’re still alive.” He hung up.
Stone turned to Holly. “You’d better sit down,” he said.
33
HOLLY LISTENED TO Stone’s report of his conversation with Lance. When he had finished she shook her head. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
“Neither do I.”
“I mean, the part about the Arab assassins would be funny if you and I hadn’t already killed three of them. I wouldn’t believe it, otherwise.”
“Neither would I.”
“And he said they wouldn’t know we’re in Orchid Beach?”
“He said that he figured it out, but they wouldn’t.”
“I hope to God he’s right.”
“So do I.”
“Still, I’m sleeping with a gun.”
“Good idea.”
“Speaking of sleeping . . .”
“I’m right behind you.” Holly let Daisy in from her nightly run in the dunes, then led Stone upstairs. “Daisy, get in your bed,” she said, and the dog curled up where she had been told.
“Good,” Stone said, stroking her hair, “I don’t want anybody between us tonight, and I’m glad Ham’s out of the house, too.”
“I’m glad, if you’re glad,” she said, helping him shuck his shirt over his head.
Stone worked on her buttons and unhooked her bra. “Alone is good,” he said, kissing her breasts.
She pulled him to her and pushed down on his shoulders until he was on his knees, pulling off her clothing. “Ooooh, that’s the place,” she said, running her fingers through his hair.
He pushed her onto the bed, and she opened her legs. For the next few minutes he concentrated on making her happy, and the noises she was making confirmed her feelings.
She came with a series of cries and little convulsions, then she pulled Stone on top of her. “I want everything tonight,” she said.
Stone slipped inside her. “The works,” he said, kissing her ear as he moved slowly in and out.
“The works!” she cried and moved with him.
For the better part of an hour they explored each other with fingers and tongues. They changed positions and laughed at the intensity of their pleasure. Then they took turns coming and collapsed in each other’s arms.
“It occurs to me,” Stone panted, “that my heart must be in pretty good shape, because if it weren’t, I’d be dead right now. That’s the best stress test in the world.”
Holly rested her head on his shoulder and threw a leg over his. “Okay, the Arab assassins can shoot me now.”
“I hope not.”
“If they showed up right now, I wouldn’t be able to hold a gun. I can’t make a fist.”
“Then we’re both helpless.”
“We could rely on Daisy.”
“We’d have to.”
Stone suddenly thought of something. “I just had a troubling thought.”
“Not now, please.”
“If they don’t know we’re here, who ransacked your house a few days ago?”
“Don’t make me think about it now.” Her voice trailed off. “I’m going to sleep.”
“Oh, no. You have to answer that question. You’re not sleeping until I’m sleeping, and I can’t sleep thinking about that.”
“What was the question again?”
“Who broke into your house?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Didn’t your police force investigate?”
“Yes, but they didn’t leave any prints.”
“Who do you think it was?”
“Are you saying it was Arab assassins?”
“It would certainly seem to be Trini-connected, wouldn’t it?”
“Trini’s a Florida boy. If he wanted my house broken into, he wouldn’t need Arab assassins, he’d just make a call to some of his homeboys.”
“Well, I’m relieved that it wasn’t Arab assassins.”
“I’m so glad.”
“Is the burglar alarm on?”
“No, but there’s a keypad right here by the bed.”
“Would you turn it on, please?”
With a groan, Holly rolled over and tapped in the code, then rolled back. “There you go.”
“Good. I think I can sleep now.”
“But I’m wide awake.”
“I’m sleepy.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” she said, taking his testicles in her hand and squeezing.
“Hey, I can’t sleep with you doing that.”
“That’s the idea.” She stopped squeezing and began lightly kneading instead.
“You don’t really think I can . . .”
“Sure you can.”
“It’s impossible after what we’ve just done.” “Then why is this working?” she asked, continuing. “Oh, God.”
Holly rolled on top of him and put him inside her. “In fact, it’s working very well indeed.”
“I can’t argue,” Stone said, arching his back. “But I’ll never be able to come again.”
“Wanna bet?” she asked.
34
WHEN STONE WOKE up he was lying on his side, and Holly was curled up with him, in the spoon position. Stone had a notion of starting something, but Daisy was staring at him intently from across the bed. She was difficult to ignore.
“You want to go out, girl?” he asked.
“No,” Holly replied sleepily.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
He got out of bed and walked downstairs naked with Daisy. He opened the sliding door to the beach and left it open so that she could come back in.
Holly came down the stairs, getting into a robe. “I like you naked in my house,” she said.
“Why are you up?”
“It’s after eight, and I really ought to at least check in at the station before I come back and fuck your brains out.” She pinched him on the ass as she passed.
“So I have to wait?”
She made coffee and switched on the TV to CNN.
“In New York City last night,” a reporter was saying, “the FBI pulled off a major sting against a large terrorist organization. After setting up a bogus money-laundering apparatus, they lured the terrorists’ financial people to an address in Little Italy and, posing as members of the Mafia, videotaped their transaction, then arrested everybody. No names have been announced yet, but sources say that seven members of the as yet unnamed terrorist organization were arrested and more than ten million dollars in Euros and Swiss francs was confiscated.”
The scene switched to a group of smiling men at a microphone. “We’re very pleased about this,” a man was saying.
“Look, there’s Grant Early Harrison in the back row,” Holly said. “They’ve done it. I can go after Trini now.”
“I guess so,” Stone said. “Lance didn’t mention this last night.”
“I guess the FBI didn’t let him in on the timing. You ready to go back to New York?”
Stone shrugged. “Sure. I don’t know how much more of this sunshine and sea and clean air I can take, anyway. Can I have breakfast first?”
“Sure.” She went to work in the kitchen.
An hour later, Holly left the house in uniform. “I’ve got a couple of hours’ work at the station. You go ahead and file your flight plan. I’ll bring sandwiches for lunch on the airplane.”
“Are you going to call Ham?”
“I’m going to leave Daisy with him. I’ll tell him then.”
“Whatever you say.”
She left, and Stone phoned for a weather forecast, which was favorable, and filed a flight plan, then he called the airport and asked for the airplane to be refueled. Holly dropped Daisy off with Ham, who didn’t like her going back to New York without him.
“You call me if you need me,” he said.
“I will,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek.
With Holly in the copilot’s seat they climbed out of Vero Beach airport and headed north, by way of Ormond
Beach and Charleston, South Carolina. Stone noted a nice, thirty-knot tailwind, so they made good time along the route.
They had just passed Charleston when the AirCell phone rang, and Stone answered it. “Hello?”
“Stone?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Eduardo. I hope you don’t mind my phoning you on the airplane. Your secretary gave me the number.”
“Not at all. It’s good to hear from you, Eduardo.”
“Where are you?”
“I’ve been in Florida for a couple of days, and I’m headed home now. I should land at Teterboro in about two and a half hours.”
“I have some information for you.”
“Go ahead.”
“The business you and I discussed apparently took place last night.”
“Yes, I saw something about it on television this morning.”
“Your Mr. Rodriguez took part in the process, and when the arrests had been made, he left the scene in an FBI car. My, ah, acquaintances do not now know where he is. They haven’t heard from him at all.”
“Do they expect to hear from him?”
“Apparently so, but they didn’t expect him to leave with the FBI. They’re assuming he has either been arrested or is being questioned about some other matter.”
“I see. Thank you very much, Eduardo. I’m grateful for your assistance.”
“I’m glad I could be of service, and I hope the information I gave you is of some use.”
“I hope so, too.”
“Please come and have lunch again soon.”
“I will, and thank you again. Goodbye.” Stone punched off. “You heard that on your headset?” he asked Holly.
“Yes,” she said. “Maybe they’re holding him for me.”
“You think?”
“Can I use the phone?”
“Sure.” He handed it to her.
“How do I get information?”
“Dial four-one-one, just like on the ground.”
She did that and got the number of the FBI office in New York and was connected. “Special Agent Grant Harrison,” she said to the operator.
