Stuart Woods 6 Stone Barrington Novels (146 page)

S
TONE WOKE WITH a crick in his neck, the result of napping most of the afternoon with Holly's head on his shoulder. That was all they had done, nap, and he wasn't too happy about that, but somehow, he hadn't felt it was the right time to go further.

The sound of his hairdryer was coming from the bathroom, then it stopped, and Holly emerged, stark naked, her underwear in her hands. “I'm going to take Daisy for a nice long walk,” she said. “I'll be back in time for dinner.”

“Wear something,” he called after her, while appreciating the sight of her departure. “I wouldn't want you to get arrested.”

She laughed and disappeared upstairs.

Stone got up, still groggy, and got into a shower. He emerged feeling brighter. The phone rang.

“Hello?”

“It's Dino. Dinner?”

“Sure, meet me at Elaine's. Lance Cabot will be there.”

“No shit? The CIA guy?”

“One and the same.”

“How'd Herbie's courtroom appearance go?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Stone told him.

“I don't believe it.”

“See?”

“Goldstein did that? I thought he was Mr. Ironass.”

“Lance says he's a patriot.”

“He's lucky Goldstein didn't have him arrested on the spot. I wouldn't mess with that guy on a bet, especially about a DUI.”

“A DUI that included violence upon the crotch of a police officer. Turns out the cop was Dierdre Monahan's little brother, and she caught the case.”

“You're lucky Lance showed up.”

“Herbie was lucky. I had negotiated thirty days in Rikers for him, and he got off with a suspended sentence because of whatever Lance said to Goldstein.”

“Go figure.”

“Yeah. Eight-thirty?”

“See ya.” Dino hung up.

Holly came back into the room, this time, to Stone's disappointment, fully dressed. “Is there some sort of park that's closer to your house than Central Park?” she asked.

“Not so's you'd notice it,” Stone said. “In Manhattan, a park is often the space where a building used to be. By the way, did I mention the leash law?”

“No, but I figured. Not in the park, of course.”

“Especially in the park. It's a hundred-buck fine.”

“That's cruel to dogs.”

“And to dog owners.”

“You're perfectly serious about this?”

“You didn't believe me about picking up the dog poop, either, did you? We do things differently in New York.”

“This is taking some getting used to.”

“Daisy seems to be managing.”

“She's very adaptable, like me.”

“
You're
adaptable?”

“Of course. Have you heard any complaints from me? I mean, any
at all
?”

“Only about having to pick up dog poop.”

“That's about Daisy, not about me.”

“You're the one picking it up. Daisy is just doing what comes naturally.”

“All right. Have you heard any complaints from me, except about Daisy?”

“Not so far.”

“That sounds as though you're expecting some.”

“I hope not.”

She came over, grabbed him by the front of his robe, and kissed him. “Don't worry about it.” She turned and walked down the stairs, followed closely by Daisy.

 

They got a cab to Elaine's. As they approached the restaurant, Stone noticed a man standing out front, just uptown from the yellow awning, holding a
briefcase. He looked out of place somehow. Stone wasn't sure how. “Driver, stop here,” he said. The cab halted a couple of doors up, and Stone looked hard at the man. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and switched hands with the briefcase. Stone noted a Cadillac double-parked just downtown from the entrance.

“That's seven-fifty,” the cabbie said.

“Drive around the block,” Stone said.

“Huh?”

“Start the meter again and drive around the block to your right, slowly.”

“Whatever you say, mister.” He pulled away from the curb.

Stone got out his cell phone.

“Are we early?” Holly asked. “Do you have a thing about being early?”

“Shhh,” Stone said. “Dino?”

“Yeah, I'm on my way.”

“Listen, do you remember a few years back we had that weapons guy come into the precinct and show us a lot of stuff?”

“Vaguely,” Dino said. “What about it?”

“Do you remember that Heckler & Koch thing he showed us with the H&K machine gun in the briefcase? There was a hole in one end that took the barrel, and the shell casings were routed to the bottom of the case when the thing was fired?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Well, there's a suspicious character standing
outside Elaine's holding a briefcase that looks just like the H&K one, and it has a hole in it.”

“Where are you?” Dino asked.

“Driving around the block, slowly,” Stone replied.

“Keep doing that until you hear from me,” Dino said. “I'm on it.”

Stone closed his cell phone.

“What's going on?” Holly asked.

“This afternoon, you said you were following Trini in a Cadillac?”

“Yes.” She put a hand to her mouth. “And there was a Cadillac double-parked outside Elaine's. It was black, too, just like the one I followed.”

“Yeah. I didn't ask you what happened with your pursuit.”

“I lost him in Brooklyn. I think it was Brooklyn, anyway. I followed him across a bridge.”

“Any chance the Cadillac could have followed you back to my house?”

Holly sank down in her seat. “Oh, my God. You were right. New York is not like Orchid Beach.”

T
HE CAB WENT around the block again, and when they turned downtown on Second again, Stone told the driver to stop at the corner before the restaurant. He opened the door and got out so he could see better. Holly did the same on the other side.

Dino's car was double-parked a few yards ahead of them, and Stone could make out a commotion on the sidewalk in front of Elaine's. A man Stone recognized as Dino's cop driver was pointing a gun into the Cadillac and barking orders.

“Holly, do you have my Walther with you?” Stone asked.

“In my purse,” Holly said.

“Get back in the cab and hand me the gun.” He leaned down, reached across the backseat, and accepted the pistol.

“There's one in the chamber and six in the magazine,” she said.

“Please stay in the cab until I wave you in.” Stone
gave the cabbie a twenty, then closed the door and went to the sidewalk and started down the street toward Elaine's with the Walther in his hand. He could see now that Dino was on the sidewalk, cuffing the man with the briefcase.

Then, as he approached and Dino was dragging the man to his feet, the rear door of the Cadillac opened, and Lance Cabot got out, his hands in the air.

“Stone!” he yelled. “That guy is mine!” He nodded toward the handcuffed man.

Stone walked up to Dino. “Hang on,” he said. “That's Lance Cabot over there at the car, and he says this guy belongs to him.”

Dino looked back and forth from his captive to the Cadillac. “All right, Mike,” he yelled to his driver, “we're clear, no problem.” He unlocked the handcuffs and handed the man his briefcase. “Is there a machine gun in here, pal?” he asked him.

“Talk to Cabot,” the man said.

Lance walked up and offered his hand to Dino. “I'm Lance Cabot,” he said. “I'm sorry about the misunderstanding.”

Dino shook his hand. “Don't worry about it. It was all Stone's fault.”

“That's right,” Holly said from behind Stone. “I'm a witness.”

“Thanks so much, everybody,” Stone said. “How did I call this wrong?”

“Well, you weren't
entirely
wrong,” Dino replied. “You just didn't know who you were dealing with.”

“It's dinnertime,” Stone said, and they went into Elaine's.

Elaine was at a front table, and she waved them over. “Are you guys having street fights outside my place again?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” Stone said. “Elaine, this is Lance Cabot, and, Lance, you haven't met Holly Barker, either.” Everybody shook hands, and Stone didn't like the way Holly was looking at Lance.

They settled in at a table.

Lance turned to Holly. “Are you the police chief in Orchid Beach, Florida?”

“That's right,” Holly replied, looking stunned. “How could you know that?”

“Anybody who pays attention knows that,” Lance said.

Holly seemed to melt a little in her seat, annoying Stone. “So, Lance,” he said, “do you normally travel with bodyguards who have machine guns in briefcases?”

“No, not normally,” Lance replied smoothly, as if he had been asked if he wore pleated pants. “Just today.”

“What's so dangerous about today?” Stone asked.

“Well, around lunchtime today I picked up a tail.”

Stone felt a penny drop. “Yes? Where?”

“I was in Little Italy doing some business, and I picked up on an evil-looking black Mercedes following me. We lost it in Brooklyn, but policy is, when you pick up a tail, you increase security.”

Holly hid behind her menu.

“A wise policy,” Stone agreed. “Holly, can we get you a drink?”

Holly lowered the menu to eye level. “Knob Creek on the rocks,” she said, then raised the menu again.

“Make it two,” Lance said.

“Three Knob Creeks on the rocks and whatever poison Lieutenant Bacchetti is having this evening,” Stone told the waiter.

“Dino,” Lance said, “your reputation precedes you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dino asked.

“We have a list of reliable police officers in various cities who we sometimes deal with. You're on it.”

“That's news to me,” Dino said.

Lance turned to Holly. “I'll see that your name is placed on it, too.”

Holly put down the menu. “How nice,” she said, noncommittally.

“He's turning us all into spies,” Dino whispered loudly.

“Oh, nothing as sinister as that. Sometimes, during the course of our work, we stumble across criminal activity that, technically, is outside our purview. When that happens, it's nice to know some people in local law enforcement.”

“Tell me,” Stone said, “in the course of your work have you run across somebody named Trini Rodriguez?”

Lance furrowed his brow. “I don't believe so.”

“How about a Robert Marshall?”

Lance shook his head. “Nope.”

“I think I'd better come clean,” Holly said. “It was Stone's car that was following you today.”

Lance turned to Stone and looked at him askance.

“Don't point that thing at me,” Stone said. “Go on, Holly.”

“And I was driving it.”

The drinks arrived, and Lance raised his glass. “To coincidence,” he said. “You put enough coincidences together, and what you get is . . .” He gazed at Holly. “. . . fate.”

Holly blushed. “Let me explain. I'm in New York looking for a man named Trini Rodriguez, who may be using the name Robert Marshall.”

“Why?” Lance asked.

“Multiple homicides,” Holly replied. “Today, he came out of the La Boheme coffeehouse and got into your car.”

“
That
was Trini Rodriguez?” Lance asked.

“Yep. What was he doing with you?”

“Well, I can't tell you that, but I can tell you it was nothing to do with multiple homicides.”

“What name did he give you?” Holly asked.

“I was told he was called Bobo. He was to assist me in some enquiries, as the British would put it.”

“Did he?”

“I'm afraid I can't answer that.”

“Swell,” Holly said. “First, the FBI protects this bastard, and now the CIA.”

Lance looked around and made a tamping motion
with his hand. “Please. I wish I could help you, Holly, but until today I'd never clapped eyes on Mr. Rodriguez, and I never expect to again. However, if he should cross my line of vision again, I'll be glad to call you. May I have your number?”

Holly gave him her card while Stone rolled his eyes.

“Anything else you can tell me about him or about the people who sent you to him?”

“Alas, no,” Lance said sadly. “The nature of the work, I'm afraid.” He turned to Stone. “By the way,” he said, “have you, by any chance, heard from Herbert J. Fisher?”

“No, I haven't,” Stone said. “Should I have?”

“Just a thought. Herbie didn't make his flight to Saint Thomas this evening.”

“I thought you had a man on him,” Stone said.

“I thought so, too, but Herbie, the little shit, eluded him. Herbie is out there in the land, somewhere, in his red Mustang, moving about with reckless abandon.”

“That's just terrific,” Stone said. “If I hear from him, what shall I tell him?”

“Tell him to go and stand on the corner of Forty-second Street and Broadway, then call me,” Lance replied. “I'll have someone go there and shoot him.”

Stone wasn't at all sure he was kidding.