by Stuart Woods
• • •
They took a break at the ninth hole, and Fratelli was having a diet soda when his phone vibrated. “Excuse me,” he said, then stepped away from the table. “Hello?”
“Hey, Johnny, it’s Onofrio.”
“Hiya, kiddo, what’s happening?”
“The old man said you wanted to talk.”
“I got a message you wanted to talk.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I went to see your shyster lawyer.”
“Yeah? Your uncle Eddie recommended him. He gave me some basic advice, I paid his bill, and that was that.”
“Nah, it was more than that, Johnny. He’s in on it, isn’t he?”
“Eddie’s money? That what you’re all atremble about?”
“That’s it.”
“Well, Eddie left me a little something in a bank deposit box. I had just got it out when you or yours took a shot at me, remember?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that, Johnny, you know how it goes.”
“Your old man seems to think I got the whole bundle.”
“Sure, you did. Who else?”
“I thought he would have left the big part to his family, but you know what? Nobody came to see him when he was in the infirmary for his last four months.”
“Last time I tried, they threw me out. He took me off his visitors list.”
“Gee, I wonder why he did that.”
“I guess he liked you better.”
“He liked me three hundred grand’s worth—that’s what was in the box.”
“So, according to you, there’s seven mil plus out there somewhere.”
“Must be.”
“Where are you, Johnny?”
“I’m on my way to the Coast—Greyhound bus. You oughta try it sometime, kid—see America.”
“Bullshit.”
“America?”
“Nah, you headed for the Coast.”
“I hear it’s nice out there, and I’ve got my little stake.”
“Yeah, let’s talk about that. Your shyster tell you I’ve got his girlfriend?”
“He mentioned it.”
Fratelli heard a sound like a splash and what seemed like a woman laughing.
“Did the shyster tell you what’s gonna happen to her if you don’t cough up?”
“What do I care? She’s nothing to me. I wouldn’t give you a plugged nickel for her ass. That’s why I called, kid, to tell you that. And don’t try me on this number again, it won’t work.” He hung up. “I hope that does it,” he said aloud to himself, then he rejoined Hillary for the second nine holes.
• • •
When he got back to the Breakers, he tossed the cell phone and got another out of his underwear drawer.
36
Stone was back at his house before John Fratelli called.
“Welcome home.”
“Thanks.”
“I talked to Onofrio Buono.”
“Have you got a number for him?”
“No, I spoke to his father, Gino, who lives in Queens. He called his boy and gave him my number. By the way, I tossed that phone. Write this one down.” He recited the new number.
Stone wrote it down. “What was the result of that call?”
“I told him I got only three hundred grand from the safe-deposit box, and that I didn’t know where the rest was.”
“Was that true?”
Fratelli ignored the question. “He told me that if I don’t give him all the money, he’ll kill the girl. I told him pretty much what you told him.”
“To go fuck himself?”
“Pretty much. Listen, I heard something in the background of our call—at least I think I did.”
“What was that?”
“I thought I heard a splash and a woman laugh.”
“Does that mean anything to you?”
“Maybe. Eddie used to talk about a cabin he had on a lake, in Connecticut. He owned it until he died, and some of his family used it now and then.”
“Where in Connecticut?”
“A few miles north of Danbury, near a wide place in the road called New Fairfield. The lake was privately owned and it was really more of a pond—eight or ten cabins on it. I don’t remember the name, or even if it had a name.”
“I’ll look into it,” Stone said.
“I wonder about something.”
“What?”
“The woman laughing. Why would a woman who was being held hostage laugh?”
Stone thought about that. “Maybe he has a female accomplice.”
“Could be. I was you, I’d like to know more about that before I gave Bats any money.”
“So would I.”
“Do you have a lot of money, Mr. Barrington?”
“Yes.”
“Does the girl know you have a lot of money?”
Pause. “Probably.”
“Let me give you the best advice I can.”
“Please do.”
“Call the guy’s bluff.”
“You think he’s bluffing?”
“It’s fifty-fifty. I saw in a movie once, where the FBI told a father whose kid had been kidnapped: you can pay the money and get your kid back, or you can pay the money and not get your kid back. Or, you can not pay the money and not get your kid back, or you can not pay the money and get your kid back.”
“That’s probably good advice. You think Buono is bluffing?” Stone asked again.
“It would be just like him,” Fratelli replied. “On the other hand . . .”
“Thanks for the advice, I think.”
Fratelli laughed. “Let me know how it comes out.” He hung up.
Stone called Dino and told him about the conversation.
“I’m looking in my road atlas at a map of Connecticut,” Dino said. “I see a very small lake near New Fairfield.”
“Maybe it’s worth a trip up there,” Stone said.
“I know the head of the Connecticut State Police. I’ll give him a call. Have you heard any more from Bats Buono?”
“No, but I just got back to the house.”
“If he calls, stall him.”
“Stall him how?”
“Tell him you just got back in town, and it’s going to take a couple of days to get ahold of the money. I know you’ve already made the arrangements, but don’t tell him that.”
“You know me too well.”
“It’s what I would do, if I had a few million available. On the other hand, like Fratelli says, you can just call his bluff.”
“I thought about it. I don’t think I can do that.”
“What about the laughing woman?”
“It could very well be another woman, not Hank.”
“Could be. Look, Hank knows you’re loaded, she might be looking to cash in.”
“I don’t read her that way.”
“I don’t either, but you never know.”
“Sometimes you do.”
“Think back to when you met her at P.J. Clarke’s.”
“Okay.”
“Who got there first? You or Hank?”
Stone thought about it. “I did.”
“Maybe Bats Buono is smarter than you think he is.”
“I doubt it.”
“How did Hank come to tell you about Buono?”
“It came up in a conversation we had at dinner. She said she had met him at Clarke’s, and he became obsessed, and she had to take out a protection order to get rid of him.”
“And when did Buono come to see you?”
“The next day.”
“I’ve got to make a couple of calls. I’ll get back to you when I know more. If Buono calls, stall him like we talked about.”
“Okay.” Stone hung up. Joan was standing in the doorway. “Your broker is on the phone. He wants to know how you want the cash.”
“Tell him I’ll call him back.”
• • •
Stone went through his mail, trying to keep his mind off Hank and Bats Buono. Less than an ho
ur later, Dino called.
“I talked to Colonel Dan Sparks, head of the Connecticut State Police.”
“And?”
“And he’s going to send a SWAT team to New Fairfield. There’s a little grocery store—you and I can meet him there, it’s a couple of hours from your house.”
“Dino, we don’t know which cabin to hit. Fratelli said there are eight or ten.”
“Dan knows the guy who owns the property that the lake is on. He’s the one who built the cabins and sold them. By the time we get there, he should know which cabin.”
“You going to pick me up?”
“In half an hour. I’ll use the siren, if I have to.”
As Stone was hanging up, his cell phone vibrated. He let it ring three times before answering.
“Yes?”
“Have you got the money?” Buono asked.
“There’s a problem about that. You talked to Fratelli, so you know he hasn’t got it.”
“I don’t care if he’s got it,” Buono said. “Your money will do just fine.”
“Let me speak to Hank.”
“She’s in the ladies’.”
“Have her call me when she gets out.” Stone hung up.
Five minutes later, she called. “Stone? Are you going to help me?”
“Yes,” he said. “Is there another woman there?”
But Buono had taken the phone from her. “Are we clear now?”
“It’s going to take a couple of days to put together that kind of money. Unless you’ll take a check.”
Buono laughed heartily. “I’ll give you until noon the day after tomorrow. I’ll call you with instructions, and you’d better follow them to the letter.”
“I won’t give you a dime, unless Hank is at the meet, and healthy. And in my car. If she’s so much as bruised, I’ll take it out on you.”
“I’ll call you at noon, day after tomorrow.”
“Don’t call, unless Hank will be there.”
But Buono had hung up.
37
Dino was out front in his unmarked police SUV on time. Stone got into the car.
“Are you armed?” Dino asked.
“Damn straight, I’m armed,” Stone replied. The driver got moving.
Dino was silent until they got on the West Side Highway and headed north. “I did a search of the court records for the past five years,” he said.
“The court records? Why?”
“I was looking for a protection order filed by Henrietta Cromwell against Onofrio Buono.”
“And?”
“There wasn’t one.”
“Shit.”
“My reaction exactly. Then there’s the matter of another woman up there, or rather, the lack of one. I don’t think you ought to give this guy any money, Stone.”
“That’s hard,” Stone said.
“I know, but if she’s in cahoots with him, there’s a chance you could make things worse for her.”
“Worse? How?”
“Suppose Buono wants all the money?”
Stone sighed. His cell phone went off.
“Yes?”
“It’s Joan. I’ve got your broker on the line, and he insists on talking to you.”
“All right, put him on.”
“Stone?”
“Yes, Jim?”
“Do you want this cash?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You’ve got enough stocks that are losing or static that we can sell without paying a capital gains tax.”
“Sell them.”
“How do you want the money?”
“In tens and twenties—nothing bigger.”
“That’s going to be very bulky.”
“I know. Send your secretary out to get some leaf bags.”
“What are leaf bags?”
“Great big, heavy-duty garbage bags. Put the cash in one of those, and I want the bills loose, not banded. Mix ’em up.”
“All right. When do you want to pick up the bag?”
“Send it over to my office tomorrow morning. Joan will sign for it.”
“I’ll have to bill you for the armored car.”
“Come on, Jim, take a cab.”
“I’m not getting into a cab with five million dollars in a leaf bag.”
“Tell you what: I’ll get someone from Strategic Services to pick up the money at your office.”
“No, at the bank downstairs. Ask for the manager, Mr. Crockwell.”
“Tell him to give it to someone with Strategic Services ID. Call Mike Freeman over there and tell him when it’s ready.”
“All right, Stone. Whenever this—whatever it is—is over, let’s have a drink and you can tell me what the hell was going on.”
“Deal, but you’re buying.” Stone hung up and called Mike Freeman.
“Welcome home, Stone. You are home, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been home, now I’m on the way to Connecticut.”
“Okay.”
“Mike, I need the services of Strategic Services.”
“What can I do?”
“Tomorrow morning, you’ll get a call from my broker, telling you that the money is ready. Please send some people over to my bank. Ask for Mr. Crockwell. Your men will show Strategic Services ID, and Crockwell will give them five million dollars in tens and twenties, in a leaf bag.”
“All right, Stone, I’m baffled. What’s going on?”
“I may have to pay a ransom to someone.”
“In tens and twenties?”
“It may be to my advantage, if he has to count it.”
“Do you want me to pay it to somebody?”
“Just hang on to it until I call you back and give you instructions on where to deliver it.”
“You want me to send an armored car?”
“Do it any way you like.”
“Stone, do you need some backup?”
“I don’t think so, but I may reconsider. I’ll let you know when I call back.”
“Is Dino in on this?”
“I’m in his car right now.”
“Good, that makes me feel better.”
“There’ll also be a SWAT team from the Connecticut State Police.”
“I feel even better.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
“Am I beginning to sense the outlines of a plan?” Dino asked.
“If you are, then you’re a gifted seer, because I don’t have one.”
38
New Fairfield was an actual wide place in the road, not a metaphor. A large, unmarked black truck and an unmarked black sedan were parked next to each other outside a small market. Men in black uniforms were leaning on the truck and sitting on the car, as if waiting for something terrible to happen. Dino’s driver parked next to the unmarked car, and a man in a dark suit came over. Dino got out, and Stone followed.
“Hello, Dan,” Dino said, offering his hand. “Thanks for turning out. This is my friend and former partner, Stone Barrington. Stone, Dan Sparks.”
Stone shook his hand, too; his paw was large, his grip iron. “Hi, Dan.”
“We’ve got a little problem,” Sparks said.
“I would be surprised if you didn’t,” Dino replied.
“I can’t find the owner of the land and the lake, and there are ten cabins.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I don’t think we can go knocking on doors.”
“No, you can’t.”
Stone spoke up. “He can.” He was pointing at a Federal Express delivery truck. The driver was taking a package into the market. “Dan?”
“Right.” Sparks walked over to the truck in time to intercept the driver on his way out of the market. A badge was flashed, a conversation conducted. The driver produced an envelope and filled out a waybill according to Sparks’s instructions.
“Stone?” Sparks called.
“Yes, Dan?”
“Any message?”
“Tell him I’m not going to give him any money.�
��
“Right.” Sparks wrote that on a sheet of paper, stuffed it into the envelope, sealed it, and handed it to the driver. More conversation, then he returned to the group. “All right, everybody, saddle up. We’re going to follow the truck to where the entry road joins a loop around the lake. We’ll wait there until the driver returns, then I’ll have further orders. Dino, Stone, you’re with me.”
The men got into their body armor and helmets, then into the truck. Dino and Stone piled into the backseat of Sparks’s car, while Dino’s driver followed in his car.
“Just follow the truck,” Sparks said to his driver.
The little caravan followed the truck half a mile down the highway, then turned off onto a gravel road. They entered the woods, and another half a mile down the road they stopped, while the delivery truck turned right. They could see water fifty yards ahead, through the trees.
“Now we wait,” Sparks said. “He’ll go house to house, asking for Buono. If this works, he’ll deliver the envelope, then come back here. If it doesn’t work, he’ll still come back here.”
They sat quietly for a minute. “How’s the new job going, Dino?” Sparks asked.
“Better than I expected,” Dino replied. “I’m actually enjoying it.”
“Next, you’ll be the commissioner.”
“God forbid.”
They went quiet again. Half an hour passed. The truck reappeared and pulled up next to Sparks’s car.
“Turn left, first house on your right,” the driver said.
“Did Buono sign for it?”
“I didn’t see a man. A woman signed.” He handed over a receipt.
“H. Cromwell,” Sparks read aloud.
“There was no car there, either,” the truck driver said.
Sparks got out of the car and rapped on the rear door of the police truck; it opened. “Okay, we’re going on foot from here,” he said to the men, and they began to file out, shouldering weapons.
Stone got out of the car and walked over to Sparks. Dino followed. “Dan, let me drive down there in Dino’s car.”
“What’s your point?” Sparks asked.
“She knows me.”
“What about Buono? Does he know you?”
“Yes, we’ve met.”
“Are you armed?”
“Yes, but Buono won’t shoot me—he wants the money.”
“You okay with this, Dino?”