Dead in the Water (32 page)

He fell silent again, and so did she. Suddenly there was the scrape of a key in the cell door's lock. They had not heard anyone approach down the corridor. A tall black man in a gray suit and a priest's collar stood in the open door.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Manning," he said gravely. "I am the Reverend John Wills; I thought you might like to speak with me. Are you a Christian?"

"I'm an Episcopalian," she replied. "Yes, do come in."

"Gentlemen," the priest said, "will you excuse us for a while?"

"Of course, Reverend," Hewitt said, then. left the cell, motioning for Stone to follow him.

The two men went outside and sat on a bench against the stone wall. I thought she should be alone with him," Hewitt said.

"Yes," said Stone. He could not think of anything else to say. The sun was lower in the sky now. Stone looked at his watch. "Leslie, it's nearly seven o'clock; could you call the prime minister's residence again?"

"Of course," Hewitt said. He got up and went back inside the jail. As he entered, Hilary Kramer and Jim Forrester came out.

"Stone," she said, "have you still heard nothing?"

"Nothing," Stone replied. "Leslie has gone to phone the prime minister."

They joined Stone on the bench. "This is driving me crazy," Forrester said.

"It's seven o'clock," Kramer said, looking at her watch. "What time is sundown?"

"Seven fifty-nine," Stone replied. "I'm told they do these things on time."

"-,

"They're not really going to hang her, Stone, surely," Forrester said, sounding distressed. "This is just sort of torture." "I don't know what's going to happen," Stone said. "I'm afraid to hope." Hewitt came back outside. "What?" Stone said. "It's very odd," Hewitt replied. "No one is answering the phone." "Not even an answering machine?" "Nothing; it just rang and rang. I must have let it ring twenty-five times, then I called again and got the same result." "Maybe they, re on the way over here,"" Forrester said hopefully. Nobody cared t? address that possibility. "Did they make you two leave Allison alone?" Kramer asked. "A priest is with her," Stone replied. "We thought it best to leave them." As if on cue, the priest came out the door. "Mr. Barrington?" Stone looked up. "Mrs. Manning would like to see you and Sir Leslie now." "How did you leave her, Reverend?" Hewitt asked the- man. "I think her mind is relieved," he replidd. "We had quite a good talk, although I don't think she had met with a clergyman for quite some time. She seems resigned now." Resigned, Stone thought. He wasn't resigned. Why the hell didn't the prime minister's office call and at least put them out of their misery?

The priest spoke again. "Are you Miss Kramer and

Mr.

Forrester?" he asked the two reporters.

"Yes," Kramer replied.

"She'd like to see you both for a moment; I spoke to the jailer, and he will allow it."

They all got to their feet and went inside, the priest bringing up the rear. The jailer searched Kramer and Forrester, then conducted the group down the corridor.

Forrester stopped. "I can't do this," he said. "I just can't."

"Wait for us outside," Stone said, and Forrester went back down the corridor.

Allison was, sitting on the bunk, reading a Bible that the priest must have given her. She looked up, saw Kramer, and smiled.

"Thank you for coming," she said to her, shaking her hand. "I wanted to tell you how grateful I am to you, Hilary, for the reporting you did in the Times. It meant a great deal to me." She looked toward the door. "Where's Jim?"

Stone spoke up. "He wasn't feeling well; he asked that you excuse him."

Allison nodded.

"You will have to go now," the jailer said to Kramer.

The reporter left, leaving Stone, Hewitt, and the priest with Allison. Stone looked at his watch: seven thirty-five.

Finally, Hewitt spoke. "A phone line at the main desk will be kept free," he said, then he was quiet again.

"Stone," Allison said, "they asked me to fill out a giving next of kin and so forth. I gave them your name to handle any formalities."

"Of course," Stone said, "but that's not going to be necessary."

She smiled slightly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time." She smoothed her skirt. "I've also left some instructions with Leslie," she said. "To be opened..."

let the trail off.

She sentence

"Everything will be done, Allison," Leslie said. "I feel that I have let you down, you know."

"Don't you believe that for a moment," she said. "Both you and Stone have been perfectly wonderful. I could not have been better represented. I really mean that." She put her hand in Stone's.

There was the sound of footsteps in the front hall. Someone, more than one person, had come into the jail. Then it was quiet again. Stone willed himself not to look at his watch, but it was growing dark in the cell. Suddenly, the single are bulb came on, making them blink.

Then, from down the hall, came the sound of men marching in step. Stone looked up to find four policemen standing outside the cell. One of them unlocked the door. At that moment, Stone heard the telephone ring. The policeman closed the door, turned his back, and leaned on it, nodding to another officer, who strode back down the hall. He was gone for half a minute, then returned. He looked at his senior officer and shook his head.

No, Stone thought, no, this can't be. That must have been the prime minister. He stood up. "The phone call?..." The senior policeman opened the cell door. "Not related to these events," he said. "Mrs. Manning, please step out into the corridor." Stone made to follow her, but an officer stepped between them. Behind him, another officer was tying Allison's hands behind her back. "Say your good-byes," the senior officer said to her. She looked at Stone, panic in her face. "Allison..." he began, then stopped. "Good-bye," she said. "You have all been very kind to me." She was trembling, but she did not cry. Then, simultaneously, a policeman opened the big door to the inner courtyard while another closed the cell door and locked it, with Stone, Hewitt, and the priest still inside. "I want to, go with her," Stone said, but the officer shook his head. "No farther," he said. Stone looked out the door and saw a corner of the scaffold in the gloomy light. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. An officer stood on either side of Allison, took her arm, and marched her into the courtyard. The senior officer slammed the stout door shut behind them. Stone turned to Leslie Hewitt. "Is there nothing we can do?" Leslie looked at the floor and shook his head slowly. "We have done all we can." Stone looked at the priest, who avoided his gaze. Then, sooner than Stone had expected, he heard the sound of the trap flying open, followed by a thunk, then silence. He leaned his forehead against the bars; he felt like weeping, but he could not.

The outside door opened, the senior officer and one other stepped inside, and the door closed behind them. The cell door was unlocked and the three men were waved out and marched down the corridor to the front desk.

Allison's duffel sat on the desk, and an officer waited, pen in hand, for Stone to sign for her belongings. Stone signed. "What about the body?" he asked the man.

"The body will be cremated and the ashes scattered at sea," the officer said. "It's how we do things here."

"It is so," Hewitt said. Stone picked up the duffel and walked out of the jail into a lovely St.lVlarks evening. Hilary Kramer and Jim Forrester were sitting on a bench next to the outside door. Kramer jumped up. "What's happening? Did you hear from the prime minister?"

Stone shook his head. "No."

Forrester stood up, too. "For Christ's sake, Stone, tell us what's happening?

"Allison was hanged five minutes ago."

Both reporters seemed struck dumb. Kramer's mouth was working, but nothing came out. Forrester turned, leaned against the building, and vomited.

"You can quote me as saying that a monumental injustice has been done," Stone said.

CHAPTER

he priest shook hands with both men, then got into his car and drove away. Stone leaned against Thomas's car, which was parked next to Leslie's ancient Morris Minor. "This is completely surreal," he said.

"I know," Hewitt replied, "I feel the same way." "Leslie, about your fee..." "It has already been paid."

Stone looked at him, surprised. "By Allison?"

The barrister nodded. "She didn't want any loose ends." He took a thick envelope from his briefcase and handed it to Stone. "She asked me to give you this. She said you were to open it aboard her yacht."

Stone accepted the envelope; it felt as though it contained half a dozen sheets of paper. "All right," he said. "I guess I'll go back there now."

Hewitt held out his hand. "Stone, when you rem em her St. Marks I hope you will think of more than what has happened today. In ways that you cannot now know, you have helped to make sure that something like this will not happen again." "How?" Stone asked, puzzled. "You'll hear from me," Hewitt said. "I'll keep you posted on events here., "I hope so," Stone said, then looked at the little man closely. "Leslie," he said, "there isn't a senile bone in your body, is there?" Hewitt burst out laughing. "Let's just say that it helps if certain people believe there are a few such bones." "You're a crafty man and a fine lawyer. It has been a privilege to work with you." "Thank you, Stone. I can wholeheartedly say the same of you. I hope that in a little while you will not think badly of me." "Never," Stone said, then embraced the barrister. Then they got into their cars and drove away. Stone drove on automatic pilot, slowly, feeling numb and drained. He pked the car behind the Shipwright's Arms and left the keys at the bar, but Thomas was not there. Stone arrived at the marina in time to see the fast motor yacht making her way out of the harbor, her lights reflecting on the water. The news must have reached her skipper, he thought. He boarded Expansive, dropping Allison's duffel on a saloon couch and switching on the light over the chart table. The rest of the saloon was in shadow, the desk light reflecting off the gleaming wood. He switched on the satellite phone and dialed Bill Eggers's home number. "Eggers," the voice said.

"It's over," Stone said.

"Stone? What do you mean, over? Did our tactics work?"

"I'm afraid not. She was executed less than an hour ago."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, I know how you must feel."

"Yeah. Will you do a press release? I don't have the energy to talk to anybody."

"Sure. I'll call the PR people and get it on the wire services tonight."

"Is Allison's estate going to owe the firm any money?"

"I think we'll have a surplus to return to the executor."

"We'll talk aout it when I'm back." "When are you leaving?" "Tomorrow morning."

"You know about Arrington and Vance Calder?" "I got a fax from her."

"I'm sorry about that, Stone; she was a great girl." "Still is, no doubt; just not mine." "Let's have dinner later this week." "Sure; I'll call you." "Good night, then."

"Good night, Bill. Thanks for all your help." He hung up, thinking he had never been so tired. His body cried out for sleep; Allison's will would have to wait until tomorrow. He didn't think he could make it back to his own yacht, so he went into the after cabin, shucked off his clothes, and collapsed into the bed. Not until then did he allow himself to weep. He wept for Allison and for himself.

CHAPTER

%' 'tone dreamed that he and Allison were making love. Then, just as he was about to come, she vanished, and the bed was empty, He stirred and turned over, kicking off the covers. Cool fingers brushed the damp hair from his forehead. He opened his eyes.

"You were dreaming," Allison said.

Stone blinked rapidly. "I still am." He closed his eyes and tried to recapture the dream.

"Stone," she said, quietly but insistently.

Stone jerked as if he had received an electric shock.

"Whaaatl" he yelled, sitting up and pushing away from her. He seemed to go from deep sleep to maximum adrenaline in a fraction of a second. His heart hammered against his rib cage, and he made himself look at her. She seemed perfectly normal.

"It's all right, Stone," she said. "Really it is. You're awake; I'm here; I'm alive."

Stone took a deep breath and tried to stop shaking. A moment ago, he had been making love to this woman, and now he was frightened and confused. "Tell me," he said, then took another deep breath. "I'm sorry to have put you through this," Allison said, "but it had to be done this way. I didn't know for sure myself when they marched me into the courtyard and I saw the gallows. I thought it hadn't worked, that I was done for." "That what hadn't worked?" Stone panted. "Leslie's plan." "What plan?" "He insisted that I shouldn't tell you; he wanted absolute secrecy." Stone was recovering from his shock now. "Allison, what the hell are you talking about?" "We bribed the prime minister." "You what?" "Leslie didn't think you would let him do it; that's why we didn't tell you." "Well, if he had suggested that, I suppose I would have been against it. I would have thought it very risky." "He told me what we had to do that day out at his cottage, when he sent you for the milk." "The milk he didn't need," Stone said, half to himself.

"Yes, that milk. While you were gone, Leslie told me what he had in mind." "And what did he have in mind?" "He said that the only thing that worked with these people was money and not even that would work with

' Winston Sutherland--he was already too committed a conviction. The prime minister, though, was another er. He was retiring, and there was always the , that he hadn't stolen enough to make him happy,

"And how did Leslie go about this?"

"He said nothing to Sutherland; in fact, he said to anybody. When Leslie handed the appeal to judge, there was a cashier's check for a million dol lam in the envelope, along with the appeal document."

"Jesus Christ."

"That's pretty much what I said. It seemed awfully until you consider that at that moment, I had already been corf*icted and that the prime minister had no motivation to overturn the appeal."

!

Didn't the floqd of faxes and telephone calls from the States mean anything at all?"