by Stuart Woods
“I overheard a conversation among the bosses, and your name came up. Why are they trying to kill you?”
“Probably because they think I know more about them than I do.”
“I know a lot about them,” Elise said. “They speak all the time in Sicilian and my mother is Sicilian. I grew up speaking it at home with her and my grandmother.”
“You should get out of there,” Sherry said.
“I’m afraid to. They could come looking for me, like you.”
“You have a point. Listen, Elise,” Sherry said, lowering her voice. “Would you speak to someone I know and tell him about this?”
“Who? I don’t want to get caught at it.”
“He lives over in Turtle Bay, you know it?”
“Yes. Katharine Hepburn lived there, didn’t she?”
“That’s the one. He has ways of getting in and out of his house without being seen.”
“Who is he?”
“A lawyer named Stone Barrington. My boyfriend is living there at the moment. His name is Bob Cantor.”
“I’ve heard them mention both of those names, but I couldn’t figure out who they were.”
“Well,” Sherry said, looking toward the door, “here’s Bob now.” She made the introduction.
* * *
• • •
Elise got out of a cab at a corner of Third Avenue, then she stood in front of a flower shop and waited, as she had been instructed. A moment later, Bob Cantor appeared and took her through a door, and after a walk down a tunnel, into a garage. They went up a floor and into a living room, where Bob took her coat.
“I can hear him on the phone,” Bob said. “Have a seat, and I’ll come get you when he’s finished with the call.”
Elise sat down and looked around her. It was a handsome room, she thought, with a lot of nice pictures. For just a moment, she had to fight off panic. What if, in spite of all the precautions, some of the Thomases’ people had seen her come here? Maybe they had followed her from the hospital.
Bob came back. “This way,” he said, and he showed her into a smaller room with a lot of books. Two men sat in chairs before the fireplace, and they stood up as she entered.
“Elise,” Bob said, “this is Stone Barrington.” He indicated the taller of the two men. “And this is Dino Bacchetti, who is the police commissioner of New York.”
Elise heaved a sigh of relief. “May I use your bathroom, please?”
37
While Elise was in the bathroom, Stone called Jamie Cox.
“Hello?”
“Hi, do you have a few free minutes to listen to somebody?”
“Sure. Who is it?”
“I’ll leave the phone on speaker, so you can hear our conversation. Later, you may want to ask her some questions. Take notes.”
“All right.”
Elise returned from the bathroom and sat down.
“Would you like something to drink, Elise?” Stone asked.
“Thank you, I’d like a bourbon and Diet Coke.”
Stone winced, but made the drink and handed it to her. “A friend of mine, Jamie Cox, is on the phone. I’d like her to hear our conversation, if that’s all right.”
“The woman who wrote that big piece in the Times?”
“That’s the one.”
“It’s fine.” She took a swig of her bourbon and Diet Coke.
“Now,” Stone said, “for Jamie’s benefit, your name is Elise Grant, is that correct?”
“Yes.” She spelled it for them.
“May I ask your age, Elise?”
“Twenty-four.”
“And you work for H. Thomas & Son?”
“I do.”
“How long have you worked there?”
“Almost two years. I started downstairs in accounting, then I got a promotion to legal, then I got moved upstairs to the executive offices about eight months ago.”
“Who do you work for there?”
“There are five of us on the floor, and we all work for whoever needs us: Mr. Henry Thomas—he’s the old one; his grandson, Hank Thomas, who used to be a congressman; and a relative—I’m not exactly sure how they’re related, but he’s family—Lawrance Damien. They call him Rance. Old Mr. Thomas’s son, Jack, shot himself in the office, though I’ve always thought Rance had something to do with it.”
“That’s very interesting,” Stone said. “We’ll come back to that. Do you often overhear conversations among these three men?”
“All the time. You see, my grandparents came to this country when my mother was three years old. Grandpapa died when I was six, so I was raised by my mother and grandmother, and they always spoke Sicilian around the house. I didn’t put the language on my employment application because I thought nobody spoke it, except in my family.”
“Do the Thomases often speak in Sicilian?”
“Yes, whenever they don’t want anyone to know what they’re talking about, like earlier today.”
“And you were there?”
“Yes. Old Mr. Thomas asked me to take a letter after they were done and to sit down and wait, so I heard their entire conversation.”
“What did they talk about?” Stone asked.
“About killing you and Bob and Sherry. Oh, and about trying to kill Ms. Cox, in the ladies’ room.”
“Holy shit,” Dino muttered, the first time he had spoken.
“Yes, that’s pretty much what I thought, too,” Elise said, “but I managed to keep a straight face. It was the first time I heard that Sherry was still alive. She took some time off, and they sent her someplace in Maine, and none of us heard from her again. I thought they had done her in.”
“Is that how you learned that she was in the hospital?”
“That’s exactly how.”
Dino spoke up again, but in Sicilian. “Can you tell me what they said in Sicilian?”
Elise laid out their conversation.
“Thank you, that’s good,” Dino said. “She speaks very good Sicilian, so she won’t have got it wrong. Elise, please repeat what you just said, in English, for the benefit of the uneducated present.”
Elise laughed, then recounted the conversation in English.
“Holy shit,” Jamie said over the phone.
* * *
• • •
For two hours, they questioned Elise, and she happily told them everything she knew. They broke for dinner, and Dino sat next to her.
“Elise,” he said, “would you keep doing what you’re doing? And report it back to us?”
“You mean, like a spy?” she asked.
“We call it a confidential informant, and you’ll be paid for your efforts.”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Dino,” Bob Cantor interjected, “I think it’s better if Elise plants some bugs for us and we record everything. It’s safer for her, and we’ll have a record that she can confirm.”
“I didn’t hear that,” Dino said, “and I don’t hear things like that, unless I have a warrant in my hands.” He stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get home.”
Stone stood also. “I’ll see Dino out,” he said, and they both left the room.
“I have some equipment that will work,” Bob said, undeterred.
“Bob,” Elise said, “they have some experts come in about once a week to sweep the place. Won’t they find your equipment?”
“I’ll set it up so that you can turn the bugs on and off with an app on your iPhone. That way, when you know the sweepers are coming, you can switch them off. They won’t be detected because the equipment is not broadcasting.”
“That sounds good,” she said.
“Also, the bugs will have to be replaced every three days, since that’s as long as the batteries last.”
“Okay,�
� she said.
“You’ll want to be very sure that you aren’t seen replacing them.”
“I’ll do it at lunch. Almost everybody goes out, but I usually have a sandwich at my desk.”
“Good.”
Stone came back. “I trust that part of the conversation is over,” he said.
“Can I go to see Sherry again?” Elise asked.
“That’s not a good idea,” Stone said. “Every time you go into the hospital, it increases the risk that you’ll be seen there. In a few days, Sherry will be discharged from the hospital, then you can come see her here, getting in the way you did today. That will also give us a chance to debrief you.”
“I understand, and that’s fine,” Elise replied. “Tell me, will I have to testify in court against the Thomases?”
“Eventually,” Stone said. “When that happens, though, they’ll be in jail and won’t be able to hurt you.”
“I don’t think you understand how much reach the Thomases have,” Elise said. “They can get at anybody. I’ll never be safe again.”
“I understand your feelings, Elise, but I’ll see that Dino makes it his personal mission to keep you safe. Where does your family live?”
“There’s only my mother now, and she lives in Little Italy.”
“Elise,” Stone said, “it’s important that you not visit her in Little Italy.”
“But that’s where she lives.”
“You can invite her to lunch uptown as often as you like, but when you do that, don’t either of you speak in Sicilian.”
“I get your point,” she said. “Can I tell my mother what I’m doing?”
“It’s better that she doesn’t know until this is all over.”
“When will that be?” Elise asked.
“Maybe several months,” Stone replied.
“I’ll also give you a special cell phone, so you can contact us, if you need to,” Bob said.
Elise nodded, and went back to her dessert.
38
After dinner, Bob took Elise downstairs and explained the bugging equipment to her. Then he took her out of the building, where she could get a cab home.
Stone went upstairs, undressed for bed, and called Jamie.
“Hello?”
“How’d your talk go?” Stone asked.
“Very well. I’ve discovered that they all usually ask the same questions, so I can polish my answers.”
“What did you think of Elise?”
“I can’t believe it. Is she for real?”
“She certainly is.”
“I’ll file a new story tomorrow.”
“Wait a minute. You can’t use anything she told us tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll blow her and get her killed. You’re going to have to be patient. Don’t even tell anybody at the Times about this.”
“I’ve already told Scott Berger,” she said, “but I didn’t tell him who she is.”
“Then call him back right now, tell him you can’t publish yet and why, and swear him to secrecy. Stress that she’s already a police informant, and you can’t blow her.”
“All right.”
“Good night, then.”
“What, no phone sex?” she asked.
“You’ve just frightened me and made me incapable.”
“I’ll try to be gentler next time.”
They both hung up.
* * *
• • •
Shortly after eight AM the following morning, in Atlanta, a florist’s delivery van pulled up to a trade entrance at the St. Regis Hotel, and the driver removed a box from the rear of the van and walked it inside to the front desk.
“May I help you?” a clerk asked.
The man set the box on the front desk. “Flower delivery for a Miss Jamie Cox,” he said, giving the clerk a clipboard so that he could sign for the flowers.
“It will go up with her breakfast,” the clerk said.
“What time will she have it in hand?” the driver asked.
The clerk checked a room service schedule. “She ordered breakfast for eight-thirty,” he replied.
“Thank you.” The driver returned to his van and made a phone call. “They’re going up with her breakfast at eight-thirty,” he said and then hung up.
Back at the front desk, the desk clerk supervisor came back from the men’s room and found the flower box. “Who are these for?” he asked.
“Jamie Cox,” the man replied. “Room service will pick them up and deliver them with her breakfast.”
“Too late,” the supervisor said. “Miss Cox checked out half an hour ago. She had a flight to make. Who delivered them?”
“I don’t know which shop,” the clerk said, “and I didn’t recognize the driver. What should I do with them?”
“Put them with the other flowers that are collected every morning. They’ll go to a hospital later today.”
The clerk opened a closet door and placed the box on a shelf.
* * *
• • •
Jamie boarded the Citation at PDK Airport, buckled herself in, and opened a fresh copy of the New York Times. The pilot closed and locked the cabin door, then went to the cockpit and started the engines. Fifteen minutes later, the airplane took off for Palm Beach.
* * *
• • •
At the St. Regis the desk clerk left his post for a moment and went into a back room. As he closed the door behind him, he heard a loud noise from the front desk. He opened the door to find a cloud of smoke and a closet door lying atop the desk. He looked around and found no corpses, then he picked up a phone from the floor and called security.
* * *
• • •
Elise followed Bob’s instructions: she turned up for work exactly when she did every day and did the things she always did. She distributed the mail, newspapers, and magazines, then went back to her desk and waited to be called in. She was not called in.
At lunchtime she ate half her sandwich and watched the Thomases and Damien leave, then she went into each office, starting with Henry’s. She peeled off the tape on the bottom of the bug and placed it under the center drawer of each desk, then followed suit in Hank’s and Damien’s offices.
She had one more device to plant: the master unit, which controlled the bugs, received their transmissions, and sent them to a secret website on the Internet. She placed it under a colleague’s desk, two desks away; then she went back, switched on her iPhone, and opened the new app Bob had installed. It was disguised as a calorie counter. She switched on the master and the three devices, and the app ran a check on each, confirming that they were operational.
Then she finished her sandwich.
* * *
• • •
Just after three PM Elise was called into Rance Damien’s office.
“Yes, sir?” she said.
“Why didn’t I get a Times this morning?” he asked.
Before she could answer, there was a knock on the door.
“Come in!” Damien shouted.
A man in coveralls, carrying a toolbox, walked in. “May I sweep now, Mr. Damien?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“I’ll get you a Times,” Elise said and fled the office. She went to her desk, opened her handbag, found her iPhone and went to the calorie app. As quickly as possible, she switched off the base unit and all three bugs, then she grabbed a Times and hurried back into Damien’s office. “Here you are, sir.”
But he was already reading a Times. “That’s all right, I found it on the floor.”
“I’m very sorry, sir.” As she closed the door she looked back to see the electronics man, wearing earphones and walking around the office, with some sort of wand in his hand.
“Any luck?” Dami
en asked the man.
“I got a single beep, but it didn’t recur. Probably some trash from a passing car or truck down on the street,” the man replied.
“Okay, wrap it up,” Damien said.
“Yes, sir.”
Elise went back to her desk and watched as the man went from office to office. No alarms were raised.
* * *
• • •
At her desk in New York, Viv Bacchetti took a call from Atlanta. “Yes?”
“We had a bomb delivered to Jamie Cox at the St. Regis this morning,” a man said.
“Good God! Was she hurt?”
“Lane and Ida got her out early. She had a noon thing in Palm Beach. No one was injured at the hotel. The bomb went off in a closet near the front desk.”
“Get hold of Lane,” Viv said. “Tell her what happened and to shake up all of the day’s plans. Go to plan B and, if necessary, plan C.”
“Right.”
Viv put down the phone and breathed deeply until her pulse returned to normal.
39
Stone said goodbye to Viv and put down the phone. He didn’t need to think long before calling Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“It’s Stone. Have you spoken to Viv?”
“Not yet. I got a message, but I haven’t had time to return her call.”
“When you do, she’s going to tell you that somebody delivered a bomb in a box of flowers to Jamie in Atlanta.”
“Was she hurt?”
“Fortunately, she had already left the hotel.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll call the Atlanta cops.”
“I’m sure Viv or the St. Regis has already done that,” Stone said.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Dino, I know you’d like to take the time to sew this case up seven ways, but I think we’re all out of time. The Thomases are just going to keep going until Jamie, Sherry, and Elise are all dead. Maybe me, too.”
