by Stuart Woods
“Start having lunch at home and walking Daisy then. When you’re off duty, take her with you when you leave the house. We want it to be easy for Teddy to spot you.”
“All right.” Holly groped for words.
“What?”
“What about my…personal life?”
Lance looked sympathetic. “If there are times when you don’t want a team on you, let me know, and I’ll pull them. If you should run into Teddy then, you can always call it in.”
“Thank you, Lance.” Not that she had a personal life, but she was still thinking about Stone Barrington.
Lance looked at his watch. “Give me fifteen minutes to get a team together, then go home to lunch.”
FORTY-THREE
TWO DAYS AFTER the incident in the subway, Teddy saw Holly Barker again. She was leaving her building and, apparently, headed for the park, since she had her dog with her.
Since seeing her on the train, Teddy had gone back and read her file from the Agency again, and this time he had Googled her and read the newspaper accounts of the big cases she had been involved in when she had been chief of police in Orchid Beach, Florida. It made amazing reading, since it concerned a small-town police officer, and Teddy was intrigued. He thought he would like to get to know her personally, but the business on the train bothered him.
He followed Holly at a distance of more than a block, then, as she entered the park at 64th Street, he turned down Fifth Avenue and simply walked away. He hadn’t spotted a tail, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He got on the Fifth Avenue bus and watched to see if anyone got on behind him, or if a car was following the bus. Seeing nothing, he got off in the Fifties, walked over to Madison and took the bus back uptown, constantly watching for a tail.
As he got off the bus at 63rd Street, he saw Holly cross the street a block ahead, apparently headed back to her apartment building. He turned down 63rd, walked to Park and crossed the street, looking back in time to see her enter her building. He glanced at his watch. Lunchtime. She must have come home from her office just to walk the dog. He loitered around the corner long enough to watch her leave the building, then he walked to Lexington, took a cab and got out a block from the CIA building. Ten minutes later Holly appeared on foot and walked into the building.
Once again checking for tails, Teddy walked to Third Avenue, took the bus uptown, and, after walking around the block a couple of times, went into the building that housed his workshop.
He hung up his coat and sat down at the computer, logged on to the Agency mainframe and ran a non-Agency search on her name. This time a new reference appeared: a website for some sort of financial management firm, Morgan & Bailey. Holly was listed on the site as a senior vice president. Obviously, the firm was an Agency front, and they had gone to the trouble to create the Web site to lend verisimilitude to the legend.
It occurred to him that Holly was living above her means, if her Agency salary was all she had. Perhaps she was taking a salary from Morgan & Bailey, to help her establish credentials in the city, or perhaps the firm was paying for the apartment.
He went back to the news clippings and read the story reporting the death of her fiancé, who was an innocent bystander at a bank robbery and got in the way. He ran a search on the fiancé, Jackson Oxenhandler, and discovered that he had been a prosperous lawyer in Orchid Beach. Maybe she had inherited his estate. That would make her, perhaps, prosperous enough to afford an apartment on Park Avenue.
It was clear to Teddy that, based on her career in the military, plus her very successful career as a police chief, Holly Barker was a very smart and motivated woman. If he had needed further evidence of that, her training report from the Farm showed plenty of guts and initiative. He would have to be careful to limit his contact with her in the neighborhood, and if she showed any interest in him, he would have to pull up stakes and find a new place to live.
THERE WAS A NOTE on Holly’s new desk: “See me—Lance.” She went and knocked on the door that connected their offices.
“Come in,” he said.
She found him at his desk, looking at photographs. “You wanted to see me?”
“The team had a sighting of a man who may have been following you for a couple of blocks.”
“When?”
“In the last hour. He went in your direction until you entered the park, then he got on a bus downtown.” He beckoned her to his side of the desk.
Holly looked at the photographs; they were taken from more than a block away with a low-resolution digital camera. “He’s a blur,” she said.
“That’s as much as we could enhance it,” Lance said. “Don’t believe everything about surveillance you see on TV.”
“I can’t make him from these,” she said, shuffling through the prints. “Did anybody follow him when he broke from me?”
“The team lost him when he got on the bus. We’re going to have to add vehicles, obviously.”
“I feel guilty about soaking up this much manpower,” Holly said.
“Have a seat,” Lance said, walking around the desk and sitting next to her on his sofa. “I’m concerned about you.”
“Why?”
“You look depressed.”
Holly laughed. “So do you.”
“I guess we’re all a little depressed about how this is going.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that we may be the wrong people for this work?” Holly asked. “I mean, my class’s training was cut short, and not much of it has been useful to me on this assignment. A few years as a cop in Florida was better training for this.”
“It occurs to me every day,” Lance said, “but what can I do? I can’t call Langley and tell them to shut us down. That would be admitting failure, and the failure would go into the personnel file of everybody in this station. The Agency culture can tolerate a certain amount of failure, because operations frequently don’t pan out, but the culture would look askance at admitted failure, especially of a project and a unit commissioned directly by the president of the United States. We don’t really have a choice; we’re going to have to catch Teddy Fay or die trying. If we can do that, praise will rain down upon us, good things will be said about us in our fitness reports and we will be princes in our realm.”
“Well, I guess that’s better than admitted failure,” Holly said.
FORTY-FOUR
ON A THURSDAY NIGHT Holly called the duty officer and asked him to pull the team off her for the night. Then, she dressed in a cashmere sweater and slacks that showed off her ass in a favorable light, put on her coat and got a cab to 88th Street and Second Avenue. She got out, took a deep breath and walked into Elaine’s.
Thursday was the busiest night of the week, she knew, and she reckoned it was her best chance to “bump into” Stone Barrington. She hoped to God he wasn’t with someone else.
Gianni, the headwaiter, spotted her and came and kissed her on the cheek. “Holly! Long time! You meeting Stone?”
“Well, no, but if he’s here, I’ll say hello.”
Gianni turned and pointed at a table along the wall. Stone and Dino Bacchetti, his former partner on the NYPD, were having drinks and arguing about something. “Let’s break this up now,” Gianni said, taking her arm and walking her back to the table. “Look who’s here,” he said to Stone.
Stone was on his feet, looking surprised, and so was Dino. Everybody hugged and kissed. “Join us?” Stone asked.
“Sure,” Holly replied.
“Gianni, bring Holly a Knob Creek on the rocks,” Stone said, and Gianni departed for the bar. Stone was a lawyer who was counselor to a prestigious New York law firm, Woodman & Weld, and his specialty was handling the cases Woodman & Weld did not want to be seen to be handling. He was also one of Lance’s recuits as a consultant to the Agency. So was Dino.
“Excuse me a minute,” Dino said, apparently giving them a moment. “Be right back.” He walked toward the men’s room.
“So, you and Dino were really going at it when I came in. What’s goin
g on?”
“Oh, Dino and Mary Ann have been having some problems, and I was just counseling him.”
“Counseling him? It looked more like you were yelling at him.”
“He needed yelling at.”
“You aren’t exactly qualified to be a marriage counselor.”
“All right, all right. What are you doing in New York? I thought Lance had shipped you off to some place in Virginia to be remolded by the Agency.”
“I was already a deadly weapon and performed brilliantly, so they graduated me early and assigned me to New York.”
“How’d the rest of the class do?” Stone asked suspiciously.
“Well, they did brilliantly, too,” she said.
“So he brought your whole training class to New York?”
“Everybody who survived the training.” Her drink arrived, and they clinked glasses.
Stone leaned in close. “You’re on that Teddy Fay thing, aren’t you?”
She was surprised he knew. “Sorry, that’s classified.” She took a deep sip of her drink.
“Come on, Dino’s been reporting to Lance about a bunch of murders around the UN,” Stone said. “And I think Lance let something slip.”
“That doesn’t sound like Lance,” she said, keeping her guard up. “But if anybody lets anything slip about anything, it ain’t going to be me.”
“Okay, okay. God, it’s good to see you; it’s been months.”
“Has it?” she asked, feigning indifference.
“You know very well how long it’s been. I tried to call you in Orchid Beach, and I got some young lady who’s house-sitting for you. That’s when I knew you must be in Virginia.”
“You’re so clever, Stone; how could I ever hide anything from you?” she said, batting her eyes theatrically.
“So, how’s life as a spy?”
She looked around to be sure nobody could hear. “Actually, I appear to still be a cop, the way things are going. I’m looking forward to this thing being over.”
“He’s a very smart guy,” Stone said. “It may never end.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said, “but the thought of it never ending is more than I can bear. Let’s talk about something else.”
Dino came back to the table and sat down. “So,” he said, sipping his drink, “how’s it going on the Teddy Fay thing?”
Holly sighed. “Dino, I don’t know what you’re talking about, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know what you were talking about.”
“I get your drift,” Dino said, “but I still want to know what’s going on.”
“Then you’d better have dinner with Lance,” she said, “and you’d better not tell him you even mentioned the subject to me.”
A waiter brought them menus.
“Shouldn’t you be getting home to your wife?” Stone asked Dino pointedly.
“I haven’t had dinner yet,” Dino said indignantly. “You want me to starve?”
“As I recall, Mary Ann is a very fine cook.”
“Yeah, well the last time she cooked for me was so long ago that I can’t put a date on it.”
“If you weren’t in here every night, maybe she’d cook for you more often,” Stone said.
“All right, you two,” Holly interjected. “Cool it; let’s order dinner.”
“You have any idea what a pain in the ass Stone can be?” Dino asked.
“Dino, I am not going to spend the evening refereeing, so if you and Stone can’t just remember what good friends you are and talk pleasantly to each other, then I’m having dinner elsewhere.” She put down her menu.
“All right, all right,” Dino said, patting her arm. “I’ll be nice if he will.”
“Stone?”
Stone nodded.
The waiter came back. “Is there any osso bucco left over from last night?” Holly asked. Wednesday was osso bucco night.
“I’ll check,” the waiter said. He left and returned. “Yep.”
“I’ll have that, too,” Stone said, and Dino joined the movement.
“Sorry, there’s only one order left,” the waiter said, “and the lady gets it.”
The two men grumbled and ordered something else.
MUCH LATER, as they finished their coffee, Dino stood up. “Well,” he said, “I guess I’d better go home and face the music.”
“You make home sound like a horrible place, Dino,” Holly said.
“Sometimes it is,” he replied. He gave her a kiss, put on his coat, gave Stone a wave and walked out.
“Well, now,” Stone said. “We’re finally rid of him; what are we going to do now?”
Holly laughed. “I take it you have a suggestion?”
“I have several suggestions,” Stone said.
“And what are they?”
“They are better transmitted by nonverbal communication,” Stone said. “Can we communicate at my house?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Holly said. “Why don’t we talk about it at my house?”
“You have a house?”
“I have an apartment, thank you. Anyway, I have to walk Daisy.”
“How is Daisy?” Stone asked, getting up and retrieving their coats.
“You’ll see shortly,” Holly said, slipping into her coat and buttoning up.
THE CAB PULLED UP in front of Holly’s building, and they got out.
“You’re moving up in the world,” Stone said.
“Onward and upward.”
They took the elevator to the twelfth floor, and Holly opened her front door.
“You don’t lock your door?” Stone asked.
“The security is good here,” Holly said, “and here it comes.”
Daisy made a fool of herself over Stone.
“We’ll be right back,” Holly said, reaching for Daisy’s leash. “Don’t go away.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
MUCH LATER, Holly rolled over in bed and encountered the sleeping Stone. This was much better than sleeping alone, she thought, even better than sleeping with Daisy.
FORTY-FIVE
TEDDY WAS HALF A BLOCK from Holly’s building when he saw a man come out with a Doberman on a leash. The two stopped when the dog wanted to inspect a streetlamp.
Teddy continued past but spoke. “Good morning, Daisy,” he said. Daisy interrupted her business and came over to say hello. Teddy scratched her behind the ear and talked to her for a moment. “She’s very popular in the neighborhood,” he said to the man.
“I’m not surprised,” the man replied.
Teddy gave him a quick once-over: six-two, a hundred and ninety, blond hair, stubble. He had the look of a man who had just gotten out of bed and hadn’t had his coffee yet. Teddy felt a pang of something he recognized as jealousy. “Bye-bye, Daisy,” he said. “Good morning to you,” he said to the man, then continued down the street. Jealousy? That was something he hadn’t felt for many, many years, but it was real, and it was disturbing.
HOLLY WAS PUTTING BREAKFAST ON the table when Stone and Daisy returned. “Thanks for taking her out,” she said.
“Glad to. Daisy seems to be very popular in the neighborhood.”
Holly turned and looked at him. “Why do you say that?”
“Oh, a passerby stopped and chatted with her, knew her name. She reacted as if they’d met before.”
“What did he look like?”
“I don’t know,” Stone said. “Maybe six feet, slender, graying, mid-fifties. He looked sort of like Larry David.”
“Holy shit,” Holly said, rushing to her windows overlooking Park Avenue and opening the blinds. She looked up and down the street. “Only one neighbor has made friends with Daisy. Come over here, Stone.” Stone came. “Do you see him anywhere?”
Stone looked up and down Park. “Nope.”
“Which way was he headed?”
“North to south. He may have turned a corner toward Madison a block down. I wasn’t really paying attention. Why are you interested i
n him?”
“Because I think you just met Teddy Fay.”
Stone blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not.” Holly was on the phone. “It’s Holly Barker; just had a Teddy sighting in front of my building; he was headed south on Park, west side of the street. Right.” She hung up the phone. “Damn,” she said, “and I had the team pulled last night.”
“Team?”
“The team that’s been following me, trying to get a shot at Teddy.”
“You’re planning to shoot him?”
“No, I mean a shot at capturing him. We think he may live or work in the neighborhood. What was he wearing?”
“A tweed overcoat and one of those Irish tweed hats with the brim turned down all the way around; sunglasses.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“After he spoke to Daisy and petted her, he said she was very popular in the neighborhood. Then he said good morning and continued on his way.”
Holly waved Stone to a seat and sat down in front of her bacon and eggs. She stared into the plate. “He said Daisy was very popular in the neighborhood?”
“Yes.”
“Then he must live in the neighborhood.”
LANCE LISTENED TO HER REPORT quietly and waited until she had finished before he spoke. “Someone else was walking Daisy this morning?”
“A friend,” she said.
Lance nodded. “And you pulled the team last night. Of course.”
“Of course, what?”
“Of course Teddy would turn up just when the team wasn’t there. He knows Daisy?”
“Yes, the first time I saw him outside the building, he petted her and asked her name.”
“Maybe Teddy is following you,” Lance said. “Why else would he be camped outside your building?”
“I don’t think he was camped,” Holly said. “I really think he lives in the neighborhood.”
“Or works in the neighborhood.”
“There aren’t any workshops on Park Avenue,” she said.
“Holly, I want you to put some people on visiting all the realty firms in the neighborhoods that handle rentals, especially short-term rentals, a year or less. Find out if anyone answering Teddy’s description has rented something on Park Avenue or in the immediate environs during the past month. Don’t go yourself; I don’t want Teddy to see you in a real estate office. And tell them to go singly, not in pairs, and use FBI agents. They have a more instant authority with the general public than we do.”