by Stuart Woods
“Hello?”
“We’ve just left the White House, where we conducted a very important interview. I don’t want to talk about it on the phone, so can you come over for a drink or dinner?”
“I can come over for a drink and dinner,” she replied. “Seven o’clock?”
“Good. See you then.”
Dino picked up the phone. “I think it will save time if I ask Shelley over, too.”
“We may as well have all the principals here,” Stone said.
Dino looked at Stone closely. “You seem a little down, pal. I would have thought you’d feel great about our interview.”
“You’re right, Dino, I should feel that way, but I’m sort of depressed about the direction this is taking.”
“What, too many suspects?”
“Right, and nobody knows who they are, except Brix, and he took the shortcut out of here.”
“Well, we know three of them,” Dino said, “but two of them are dead. All we’ve got is Charnlotte Kirby and the March Hare. That’s from Alice in Wonderland, isn’t it?”
Stone nodded. “The Tea Party. It’s where the expression ‘mad as a March hare’ comes from.”
“Well, Brix seemed to give a meaning to each of his nicknames: the Rabbit, the Doggie, et cetera. So maybe the March Hare is a nut job.”
Stone nodded. “She’d almost have to be,” he said. “I mean, jealousy is one thing, but to kill Brix’s wife, then two of his lovers, well . . .”
“Maybe,” Dino said, looking thoughtful, “the March Hare is Charlotte Kirby herself. Maybe Brix drove her crazy with all of his descriptions of his sex life. Maybe masturbation really does drive you around the bend.”
“That’s a perfectly valid theory,” Stone admitted, “but it goes against the grain.”
“What grain is that?” Dino asked.
“The grain of Charlotte Kirby. I bought her story—hook, line, and sinker.”
Dino nodded. “I know what you mean. I had the feeling that we had stripped all her pretense away and we were getting the unadulterated truth. That happens in a successful interrogation, you know? The perp finally has no place to go but the truth.”
“You’re right,” Stone said.
“Maybe she still knows something she hasn’t told us, though,” Dino said. “Maybe she’s holding back the final tidbit.”
“The name of the March Hare?”
“Yeah.”
Stone shook his head. “No, I think she would have told us, if she knew.”
“Maybe she suspects?”
“I think she would have told us her suspicion. I think she’s sick of all this, and she wants an end to it.”
“I can’t disagree with you,” Dino said. “And I still think the March Hare is a nut job.”
“Agreed,” Stone said.
SHELLEY AND HOLLY ARRIVED, and drinks were poured. “Why so glum, fellows?” Holly asked.
“Because,” Stone said, “we’ve had a breakthrough.”
The room became very still.
“How so?” Holly asked carefully, looking from Stone to Dino.
“It’s like this,” Dino said. “We broke through, then found ourselves staring at another stone wall.”
“Explain, please,” Holly said.
Stone recounted their interview with Charlotte Kirby.
“Nineteen!” Holly exclaimed. “And if Charlotte’s timeline is accurate, that’s over a two-year period.”
“That’s about right,” Dino said.
“Brix was a busy boy.”
“To paraphrase Frank Sinatra,” Dino said, “I don’t know why he isn’t in a jar at the Harvard Medical School.”
“Oh, come on, folks,” Shelley said, speaking for the first time, “that’s less than one a month.”
“Yeah,” Holly said, “but he was doing it multiple times with each one.”
“It’s hard to know how he had the energy for tennis,” Dino said, and everybody laughed. “And for all we know, he might have been doing that for years.”
They ordered dinner and took a break from the case for a while. Finally, when they were on coffee and brandy, Stone spoke up. “I don’t know where to go from here,” he said.
“Neither do I,” Dino replied.
The phone rang and Stone went to the desk to answer it. “Hello?”
“Mr. Barrington?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Charlotte Kirby.”
“Yes?”
“I thought of something else.”
“Yes?”
“Brix had another nickname for the March Hare. He used it only once.”
“Yes?”
“He called her ‘RoboCop.’ I’m afraid that’s all I have for you.”
“Thank you very much,” Stone said. He hung up and returned to the table.
“Who was that?” Dino asked.
“It was Joan,” he said.
“Your secretary Joan?” Holly asked.
“Right. Another brandy anyone?” Nobody wanted another. They repaired to their respective bedrooms.
39
TODD BACON WAS AT A TECHNICAL SERVICES MEETING AT THE Agency, where a schematic of a new cell phone was being displayed on a large screen as the designers presented it.
“Our phone,” the designer said, “operates perfectly as an Apple iPhone Five, except that it will also broadcast a message that has been composed on the phone’s keyboard, then automatically compress, encrypt, and transmit on a high radio frequency of our choosing. And, as you can see, the phone is indistinguishable from the Apple phone.”
Todd’s phone began to vibrate on his belt, but he ignored it. “That’s obvious,” he said, “but what about if you open the phone and expose the works? Is it indistinguishable then?”
“It is,” the man replied, “except that the battery is marginally smaller. We’ve added three new chips to the phone, but each looks exactly like the ones they replaced, even to the serial numbers.”
“And if you crack the parts?”
“All you’d see is circuits which, visually, are identical. What’s different is what the circuits are used for, and the software contained therein.”
Todd’s phone vibrated again. “So if an enemy tech is really good, is he going to be able to tell the difference between your phone and the original?”
“If he’s really, really good, he’ll notice some differences, but he’ll just think that Apple has made some changes, and if he cracks one of the three parts, the software will automatically be dumped.”
“So,” Todd said, “he’ll find an Apple phone with no software?”
“That’s better than leaving our software available for him to play with, isn’t it?”
“Yes, of course it is,” Todd said. “That will protecƀt your software, but it’s not going to protect my operative. They’ll know immediately that he’s got a very sophisticated communications device that does not work like an Apple phone.”
“Well,” the man said, sounding exasperated, “what do you suggest?”
“What do I suggest?” Todd asked. “I’m not the designer here.”
The man gazed at the blowup of his design. “I suppose we could load the Apple software and our software on the same chip, and have only ours dumped.”
“Is there room on the chip for all that software?” Todd asked.
“Almost,” the man said. “We’ll have to write some new compression code.”
“Well, then,” Todd said, “that’s my suggestion. How long will it take you?”
“A few weeks,” the man said, looking doubtful.
“And what about the battery capacity? Is it going to be sufficient for transmitting in HF?”
“If it’s fully charged, and the message is brief, but if it’s plugged into an electrical outlet, your transmitting would be unlimited.”
“And what about the antenna?”
“It’s contained with the original antenna, but you’d have to send from outdoors or near a window.”
“Then find a way to supplement that antenna so that we can send from indoors. Sounds like you’ve got a lot of work to do, gentlemen,” Todd said. “Find a way to do it in a few days.” He stood up. “Thank you very much. We’ll see you here, same time next week, and we’ll expect a bug-free working model. And if you’re going to make the battery smaller than the original, you’d better print something on it that indicates that it’s a Mark Two.”
Everybody got up and shuffled out of the room. Todd’s phone was still vibrating.
Once out of the room, Todd checked the phone; his old number two was calling. He pressed the number to return.
“Yeah? Todd?”
“Don’t call me on this phone,” Todd said.
“But I’ve got something important to tell you.”
“All the more reason not to call me on this phone.” He broke the connection and returned to his office.
IT WAS NEARLY SEVEN O’CLOCK when Todd finished his summary of what he had seen at the tech presentation, and he was very tired. All he could think of was a large scotch, a TV dinner, and bed. He left his office and took the elevator to the garage, where he had a favored parking spot. He drove out to the gate, checked out there, and headed toward the apartment he had rented.
As he hit the main road he saw a car’s headlights appear in his rearview mirror. It was some distance back, but he reacted the way he’d been trained to. He accelerated, and the headlights disappeared, then the cell phone on his belt vibrated.
Todd looked at the calling number. “Yes?” he said into the phone.
“There’s a rest stop ahead. Pull into it.”
It was number two again. Todd pulled into the rest stop and got out of the car, his hand on the pistol under his jacket.
A black SUV pulled in behind him and switched off its lightˀoff its s, then the door opened. “Relax,” a voice said, “you know who I am.” He got out of the car and approached, his hand out.
Todd ignored the hand. “You’re breaking protocol,” he said. “The rule is no contact.”
“You wouldn’t talk on the phone,” the man said. “This is the only way I could reach you, and it’s important.”
“What’s so important?” Todd asked. “And this better be good.”
“It’s about Teddy Fay,” the man said.
Todd turned and started back toward his car without a word, but the man caught his arm and spun him around.
“Am I going to have to fight you to stop this nonsense?” Todd asked. “You know that’s a dead issue.”
“Listen to me, then do what you like,” number two said.
Todd’s shoulders sagged. “All right, what is it?”
“I’ve got my private pilot’s license now,” he said, “and I’ve been training for my instrument training over at Clinton Field. It’s just the sort of airport Teddy likes.”
“What’s your point?” Todd asked angrily.
“Twice I’ve seen a couple in a black Toyota convertible at the airport. I asked around, and they’re living in a hangar there. A guy named Karl Walters bought it six or seven years ago, but he hasn’t been around much. Now he’s living there with a girl.”
“And you think it’s Teddy? You wouldn’t know him if he stepped on your foot.”
“You’re right about that, Todd.”
Todd made to leave, but the man stopped him again.
“I don’t want to hear this,” Todd said.
“I don’t care whether you want to hear it or not, I’m going to say it. You’re right, I wouldn’t know Teddy from Adam, and both times I’ve seen the car, the reflection on the windshield kept me from seeing the driver.”
“You haven’t even seen him, but you think it’s Teddy? Jesus, I was obsessed with the guy, but you’re even worse.”
“I know the girl,” number two said. “I followed her in San Diego. It’s Lauren Cade. And where she is, Teddy is.”
Todd sighed. “I’m going to let this go,” he said, “but if I hear from you again about this or anything else, I’m going to bust you with Lance Cabot. Do you understand me?”
The man shrugged and walked back to his car without another word. In a moment, he drove away in a spray of gravel.
Todd got back into his car and sat, his forehead pressed to the steering wheel, his heart pounding. Finally, he started the car and resumed his trip home. “I’m forgetting this,” he said aloud to himself. “I’m putting it right out of my mind.”
40
STONE AND HOLLY WERE SITTING UP IN BED HAVING BREAKFAST the following morning when Stone’s cell phone buzzed on the bedside table.
“Dad? It’s Peter.”
“Peter! How are you?” Peter and Ben, Dino’s son, were in their first year at the Yale School of Drama. “I haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks.”
“I know, I’ve got a play opening soon, and it’s been crazy here.”“I expect so.”
“I was hoping you’d be able to come up for the opening?”
“I’d really love to do that, Peter, but I’m in Washington, D.C., working on something really important, and I don’t think I can get away.”
“So this is that murder at the White House, and those other women?”
Stone was stunned. “How on earth can you know that?”
“Haven’t you seen the morning papers? We get the Times delivered, and it’s on page eight.”
Stone covered the phone and turned toward Holly. “Will you please get the papers from the front door?” She got out of bed and padded, naked, into the living room. “How long is the play going to run? Maybe I can get up later.”
“Only four nights, through the weekend. Tell me about this thing you’re working on, Dad. It sounds like there might be a film in it.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Stone said. Holly returned with the papers. “The Times, page eight,” he said to her, and she began looking.
“Why not? It’s public property now.”
Holly shoved the paper in front of him. “Hang on, I’ve got the paper here.” Stone read the article, which took up half a page. “It appears,” he said to Peter, “that the New York Times knows as much about this case as I do.”
“The Washington Post,” Peter said. “That’s where the Times got the story.”
“Oh, yeah, I see that now.”
“When the play closes, Ben and I want to come down there and hear about this firsthand.”
“You stay right where you are, young fellow. You’ve got school to do, and Dino and I are up to our ears in all this.” Holly took the paper from him and started to read.
“Oh, all right, but when I’m back in New York or when you’re up here, I want to know everything.”
“All right, when it’s all over I’ll give you the details.”
“I’ve got to run, Dad, it’s dress rehearsal today.”
“Take care of yourself, Peter.” Stone hung up.
Holly put down the paper. “I don’t believe this. They’ve got Charlotte Kirby’s story, and your interview was only yesterday.”
“I don’t believe it either,” Stone said. “Charlotte would never have told a newspaper reporter all that. The White House must be going nuts.” The cell phone rang again, and Stone picked it up. “Hello?”
“It’s Fair Sutherlin,” she said. “The White House has gone nuts over this story. What were you thinking, talking to the papers?”
“I haven’t talked to the papers, and neither has Dino. Do you think we’re insane?”
“Charlotte had to be sent home from work, and I don’t know how she can go on working here with this hanging over her head. How could you?”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t!” Stone said, with some heat.
“Who knew about this besides you and Dino?”
Ӏ width="“Just the principals in the investigation, nobody else. I haven’t even had a chance to tell the Lees.”
“Think, Stone: how could this have gotten out in all this detail?”
“I suppo
se Charlotte could have talked to somebody.”
“It wouldn’t be in her interests to do that,” Fair pointed out.
“I know, you’re right. Look, I’ve only just seen the papers. Let me get back to you when I know more.” He hung up before she could speak again.
Stone got out of bed, walked across the living room, and hammered on Dino’s door. “Dino! Get out here, we’ve got trouble!”
“All right, all right,” came the muffled reply.
Holly had gotten into a robe and followed Stone with the paper, then Dino came out of his bedroom in pajamas, looking sleepy “What?” he said.
Holly handed him the paper. Dino sank into a sofa and began to read. “What the fuck?” he said, finally.
“Where’s Shelley?” Stone asked.
“She slept at home last night. She left right after you and Holly disappeared.”
“She’s the only other person besides the three of us who knew about our conversation with Charlotte Kirby.”
“Oh, come on, Stone, you know better than that. Shelley would be jeopardizing her career by blabbing to the press about this.”
“You’d think so,” Stone said, “but we know it wasn’t any of the three of us. Who else knew about Charlotte Kirby?”
“Charlotte Kirby did, dummy,” Dino said. “She must have talked to somebody.”
“Isn’t there stuff in the story Charlotte didn’t know?” Holly asked.
Dino shook his head. “We were at a dinner party the other night where everybody at the table seemed to know most of it. But Charlotte would have been the only person who knew about her story.”
“Let’s go see Charlotte Kirby,” Stone said. “Where’s the FBI file? Her address is in there.”
“On the coffee table,” Dino said, reaching for the phone. “I want some breakfast first, and I need a shave and a shower.”
“So do I,” Stone said.
Holly went into the bedroom, then called out, “Your cell is ringing again.”
Stone went back into the bedroom and answered it.
“This is the White House operator,” a woman’s voice said. “Will you speak to the first lady?”