Foreign Affairs (A Stone Barrington Novel)

by Stuart Woods

  They climbed for what seemed a long time.

  30

  Jim Lugano answered his cell phone. “Lugano.”

  “It’s Lance. What news of the girl?”

  “Stone called, he’s had a partial text. She said she’s all right, but she was cut short. She’s a smart girl, apparently, she’s hidden her phone.”

  “Smart indeed. Why haven’t we bagged these people? Couldn’t her position be nailed from the call?”

  “Not enough time. We don’t yet know how they’re traveling. I hope they’re not in a car or truck, that would make it much more difficult. Rick has expanded his airport survey to every airport inside of fifty miles of Paris. We’re doing the same in Rome and Naples, but they could have landed anywhere—in a field, if they have the right plane—and switched to a vehicle. Confidence is not high.”

  “I don’t like hearing that.”

  “I don’t like feeling it.”

  “Have the girl’s family been contacted?”

  “Stone spoke to her stepfather, who turns out to be Arthur Steele, of insurance fame.”

  “That makes me wonder why I haven’t heard from a senator or two.”

  “He apparently has enough confidence in Stone to let him handle it.”

  “Or enough indifference not to care much what happens to the girl.”

  “I don’t think that. She has a mother he has to live with.”

  “What’s our best hope, given what we know?”

  “Another cell call or text, on the air long enough for us to locate. We don’t know how much cell reception she has at her destination, wherever that is, or how much of a charge she has left on the phone. It’s going to be dodgy.”

  “Everything is always dodgy,” Lance said. “Keep in touch.” He hung up.

  —

  Stone looked up and was surprised to see Mike Freeman stride into Marcel’s living room. “What brings you across the Atlantic?” he asked.

  “My two most important clients and my insurer’s daughter,” Mike said, sinking into a chair. A butler approached and inquired of everyone’s refreshment choices. A bottle of San Pellegrino satisfied them all.

  Stone brought Mike up to date on the text message and Viv’s theory on where the phone was housed.

  “Smart girl,” Mike said. “Stone, is she smart enough to keep her cool until we find her?”

  “I think she’s already shown us that. I’ve sent her a text, so the next time she’s able to check the phone, she’ll know we’re looking for her. I hope we’ll get more information, too.”

  “I hope she’s doesn’t end up in some remote farmhouse with no cell reception,” Mike said.

  “I hadn’t thought of that. I guess I just take reception for granted, and I shouldn’t in this case.”

  “It’s a thickly enough populated country to give us hope.”

  —

  Hedy woke up in a darkened room. She let her eyes become accustomed, then had a look around. She was no longer blindfolded but her hands and feet were tied. She was on a single bed in a small room, like a maid’s room. She spied a door ajar and hopped over to it, finding a small bathroom. She got her jeans down, retrieved the phone, and peed. She switched on the phone and got one dot of reception, on and off. She tried Stone’s number but couldn’t get through. She had less than fifty percent charge left. Why hadn’t she charged it last night? Stupid!

  She composed a text message, in the hope that it might eventually get through: car, jet plane, car, windy road, A coast? Noisy elevator, high floor, small room, half battery, one dot. text back. She got back to the bed; she tucked the phone between the mattress and box spring. Then she slept again.

  —

  Stone felt his phone go off and checked for calls and messages. Nothing. It vibrated again but still nothing. Then the message. “Okay, everybody,” he announced, “Hedy has gotten through: she was put into a car, then a jet plane, then a car. She was on a windy road, maybe a coast, then had a long ride in a noisy elevator. She’s in a small room, half her battery is gone, and she has one dot of reception.”

  “She’s not going to get a call out with one dot,” Mike said.

  “The text seemed to take a couple of tries to get through.”

  Stone’s phone rang.

  “We got the message,” Lugano said, “but texts go out so fast we couldn’t nail even a general location, and Italy is mostly coast. Also, is ‘windy’ a winding road or one with a lot of wind? Either way, sounds like a coast road.”

  “She may not even be in Italy,” Stone said. “She could be anywhere.”

  “Sounds like a skyscraper under construction on a coast,” Dino said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Noisy elevator, maybe a construction site. You know those temporary elevators they throw up with scaffolding on the outside of a building under construction? Maybe an office building or a condo on the coast somewhere.”

  “I wish she could be more specific,” Mike said.

  “She’s told us everything she knows,” Stone remarked. “She’s doing her best.”

  “Not good enough,” Dino said. “Not yet, anyway.”

  31

  Stone slept surprisingly well that night. Hedy was safe, and didn’t sound abused, and that gave him some comfort. On the other hand, it was maddening to hear from her and get so little information. He joined the others for breakfast, and Mike Freeman was there, too.

  “Where are you staying, Mike?”

  “At my office. There’s a little apartment there. Any messages from Hedy this morning?”

  “Nothing—she probably slept.”

  “I have a chopper available, and a hospital bed for her the minute we get her back,” Mike said.

  “That’s good thinking.”

  “I’ve had some research done on Casselli’s past, by our staff psychologist,” Mike said. “God knows, he’s ruthless, but our man doesn’t think he’ll hurt or kill Hedy.”

  “I guess that’s good news.”

  “The key seems to be, he’s pragmatic and seems unlikely to act so much from spite as from need, and he doesn’t need to harm her.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Jim Lugano turned up with some satellite photographs. “Here’s Casselli’s house on the Amalfi Coast,” he said, laying an enlargement on the dining table.

  “No outside elevator necessary,” Stone said, pointing at the road to the house. “It’s drivable.”

  “No signs of life there, and it’s the only house there owned by Casselli. He could be anywhere, but I would think he’d feel safer in Naples than anywhere else. It’s his home base, and he probably is more likely to have made inroads into the police there.”

  “Is there any building in Naples that might jibe with the description of Hedy’s elevator ride?”

  Jim got out his phone. “I’ll find out.” He punched in a number. “It’s Lugano. I want a survey of the coast in Naples, to identify a tall building under construction with a temporary elevator, perhaps a condo, hotel, or office building. We have a kidnapping victim who has furnished us with such a description, and it is imperative that we locate her soonest. Got it? Get back to me today.” He hung up. “We’re on it.”

  “I’d like to know where Casselli is,” Stone said. “He might visit her.”

  “We haven’t had eyes on Casselli since he left Lipp, in Paris.”

  “Can you please locate him? It seems to me that would be useful information.”

  “You’re right.” Jim got on his phone again and started issuing orders.

  “I understand Casselli disposed of two of his closest people, for fear that they might be in touch with the police.”

  “Correct.”

  “I’d like to know who replaced them in his hierarchy,” Stone said, “and if they’re under surveillance. If Ca
sselli isn’t seeing Hedy himself, then somebody is taking care of her, and I think we should try and find out who that is.”

  “I don’t think we have enough information right now to figure that out,” Jim said. “If we could get a cell phone location, it would help.”

  “If we got a cell phone location, we would have most of what we need,” Stone replied. “What are your capabilities when dealing with Casselli?” he asked. “What is authorized?”

  “You mean, can we kill him?”

  “Now that you mention it.”

  “That’s a little steep at this stage of the game,” Jim said.

  “If we could kill him, he wouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

  Jim laughed. “I can’t argue with that, but I have not been authorized to kill him.”

  “Seek authorization.”

  Jim laughed again. “Jesus, Stone, I didn’t know you were so bloodthirsty.”

  “I want my friend back, and I don’t care if Casselli has to die in order to achieve that.”

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t much care if he has to die, either. He’s just interfering with our regular work.”

  “Ask Lance. Ask somebody.”

  —

  Jim excused himself, left the room, and called Lance.

  “This is Cabot.”

  “I’ve just been having a chat with Stone Barrington. He wants me to kill Leo Casselli.”

  Lance burst out laughing. “Is that all? Just bump him off? Who does he think we are?”

  “Lance,” Jim said, “Stone has a point.”

  “You mean you’re happy to eliminate Casselli? Is that how you think we behave?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Well, yes, but that sort of thing usually calls for a presidential finding.”

  “Usually, but not always. Casselli could have an accident.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Maybe the sort of thing these guys use to take each other out—his car nudged over a cliff, a bomb under his seat, a bullet to the head. After all, Casselli has just erased two of his top lieutenants, because he’s afraid they might be talking to the police. There are surely those who might think that calls for a response. They must have family members or friends who might hold a grudge. If Casselli died, assumptions would be made about who did it and why, and I don’t think we would rank high on anybody’s list of possible perpetrators. If you need a bureaucratic reason, he’s keeping us from our usual work.”

  “I like that. Do you know where he is?”

  “Not yet, but I’ve issued orders to find him.”

  “Talk to me again when you have a location and a more definite suggestion for a plan.”

  “Right.” Jim hung up and went back into the living room.

  “Well?” Stone asked.

  “It’s being discussed.”

  32

  Dino came into the room. “I’m getting cabin fever,” he said. “Let’s go for a drive.”

  “We don’t have a car,” Stone replied.

  “I can arrange that,” Jim Lugano said, “and I’ll provide security.” He got on the phone.

  Stone and Dino rode down in the elevator.

  “You’ve been awful quiet, for you,” Dino said.

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  “About killing Casselli.”

  Dino laughed. “And how are you going to manage that?”

  “Just find out where he is and kill him.”

  “Don’t the police or the CIA know where he is?”

  “Apparently not—their best guess is Naples.”

  “There are probably people better qualified than you to take him out. You’ve never assassinated anybody, have you?”

  “There’s a first time for everything. I asked Jim to put it to Lance.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He didn’t say no.”

  They were greeted downstairs by three of Lugano’s people, one of whom handed Dino the keys to a Fiat sedan. “Be careful,” he said, “the car’s been tuned up.”

  “Great,” Dino said. “Let’s go do donuts in the Piazza del Popolo.”

  “Cars are now banned from the Piazza del Popolo,” the man said. “If you want to throw it around, go to the country and find yourself a nice field. Oh, by the way, it’s armored, and it will take an IED, if it has to. Are you armed?”

  “I am,” Dino replied. “Stone?”

  “No.”

  “What would you like?”

  “Have you got a smallish .45?”

  “How about model 1911 officer’s?”

  “That’ll do.”

  The man went to the trunk of another car and came back with the pistol and a holster. Stone slipped it onto his belt, crossdrew, popped the magazine, shoved it back in, racked the slide, and put the safety on. He was handed two spare loaded magazines.

  “Where are you headed?” the agent asked.

  “Wherever we like,” Dino said, getting behind the wheel and starting the car.

  The agent handed him a handheld radio. “It’s tuned to channel one. That’ll keep you in touch with the following car.”

  Stone got in beside him, adjusted the seat, and put his spare magazines in the glove compartment. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “How about Naples?”

  “Okay, I guess it’s an hour on the autostrada.” Dino handed Stone the radio, then punched Naples into the GPS and drove out of the courtyard.

  —

  An hour later they were approaching Naples.

  “Anyplace special?” Dino asked.

  “Keep to the coast as much as possible.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “A tall building under construction with a construction elevator. Oh, and if you see Leo Casselli, let’s stop and shoot him.”

  “Anything we should watch out for?”

  “I think Casselli likes big black Lancias.”

  They drove slowly along the coast, passing the ferry terminal for the Isle of Capri. Dino stopped the car and pointed. “There,” he said.

  Stone turned and saw the skeleton of a building, maybe thirty stories. A mass of yellow scaffolding ran up one side.

  “Like that?” Dino said.

  “Something further along in construction,” Stone said. “That one doesn’t have any walls.”

  Dino continued driving, then after a few minutes stopped again. “Nearly finished,” he said, pointing.

  Stone looked at the building. “They’ve taken down the construction elevator and started using the interior ones. Too finished.”

  They drove on. After a while Dino said, “We’ve pretty much circumnavigated Naples, and no building fits the description.”

  Stone pointed. They were on the north side of Naples, driving along the water, and on the other side of the road, lit by the setting sun, was a tall building, apparently under construction, that had been enclosed but still had a construction elevator attached to one side. “What about that?” Stone said.

  “Looks good to me,” Dino said.

  33

  Dino pulled the car off the road and into the construction site, which was unfenced, wide open. It was getting dark.

  Stone leaned forward and looked up. “There are lights on at the top,” he said.

  They got out of the car and were met by the two young men from the car behind them. “You think this is it?” one of them asked.

  “It fits the description,” Stone replied. He pointed at a sign nearby, which said: CASSELLI COSTRUZIONE. “And the ownership is right.”

  “We should call for backup,” the young man said.

  “There are probably one or two people guarding her,” Stone said. “Ther
e are four of us, and you have automatic weapons.”

  “We should let the Naples police handle this.”

  “Casselli probably owns the Naples police. Call Lugano.”

  The man produced a phone and pressed a button. “Jim,” he said, “we’re in Naples with Barrington and Bacchetti. We may have found the building.” He listened for a moment. “It fits the description, it’s enclosed, and there are lights on at the top floor. Barrington thinks it would be lightly guarded. He wants to go in. What do you want us to do?” He handed the phone to Stone.

  “Yes, Jim?”

  “This is highly irregular, but it has a good chance of producing results.”

  “I agree on both counts.”

  “The Agency can’t take responsibility for the girl’s life.”

  “That is my responsibility.”

  “As long as you understand that.”

  “I understand it.”

  “My guys go in first.”

  “You won’t get an argument from me on that.”

  “Not that you and Dino haven’t been through a door or two, but it must have been a while.”

  “Right on both counts.”

  “But my guys have the better weapons.”

  “Dino and I will back them up.” He looked at Dino.

  Dino nodded. “We’ll back them up.”

  “Call me when it’s over, and I’ll deal with the local police.”

  “I’ll do that.” He handed the phone back to the young man, who listened for instructions, then hung up.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Stone said.

  “Let’s pull the cars up to the elevator and point them at the street.”

  “Good idea.”

  They moved the cars, and Stone got his spare magazines from the glove compartment and pocketed them; Dino checked his weapon.

  The two young men removed two Heckler & Koch machine guns and donned vests. “Any advice?” the young man asked.

  “Shoot first and ask questions later,” Stone said. “And don’t shoot at any females, unless they’re pointing weapons at you.”

  “You have any idea how this elevator works?”