Worst Fears Realized

by Stuart Woods

  At that moment there was a huge noise, and the front-window curtains billowed as the plate glass behind them exploded inward.

  33

  S TONE WAS THROWN THROUGH THE AIR, taking Sarah with him, landing hard on the gallery’s marble floor. He lay, dazed, on top of her, and then he realized she was struggling to get out from under him. He rolled over. “Are you all right?” he asked, groggily.

  Sarah said nothing, but scrambled up and began running toward the back of the gallery, screaming.

  Stone got unsteadily to his feet as Dino arrived and slipped an arm around him. He looked back at the window: the window frame was empty, and fragments of broken glass were everywhere. The heavy wool curtains had disappeared, leaving only fragments clinging to the rod. Outside, where the van had once been, there was only a shallow crater in the asphalt. The cars on either side of the crater were on fire. The noise was incredible. Men and women were screaming inside the gallery and fighting to get out the rear door, as the approaching sirens got louder and louder.

  Dino got out a handkerchief and held it to the back of Stone’s head. “You’re bleeding, pal; hold this against your head.”

  “I’m okay, Dino; find Sarah for me, will you? And get her to my car; it’s the safest place right now.”

  “Okay, but don’t go out front; there might be somebody out there to take a shot at you.”

  Stone stood, holding the handkerchief against the back of his head, and surveyed the damage. There seemed to be surprisingly little. Many of the paintings were still on the walls, and only one or two seemed to be badly damaged. He looked back at the window and realized what he had not before: the window did not occupy the entire front of the building. Instead, there was a border of masonry around it a good three feet wide. The blast had been funneled through the window opening, but the masonry still stood.

  Forgetting Dino’s advice, Stone walked out the front door, which had merely been blown open, its glass still intact. On the way, he picked up a piece of the broken window and looked at it. The edges were not sharp to the touch. This puzzled him.

  Andy Anderson ran up to him. “Stone, are you all right?”

  “I’m okay, I think,” Stone replied. “Did you see what happened?”

  “After I called the bomb squad, we moved the car up to the end of the block, to be out of the way. We were about to go back and stop traffic when the bomb went off. The light was red, and that had stopped the Madison traffic, so no cars were in front of the gallery when it blew, just the ones parked there. Nobody on the street was hurt that we can find; what about inside?”

  “Go around to the back entrance and check for injuries; direct the ambulances there when they arrive.”

  “Right.”

  “Where’s Kelly?”

  “I don’t know; I lost him.”

  Stone looked around the street. Some shop windows across Madison were broken, and some parked cars had shattered windows, but he saw little else in the way of damage. He turned and walked back into the gallery, which was now empty. He walked to the rear hallway and out the door, onto the street. Dino was standing with his arms around Sarah, who was sobbing; the scene was repeated up and down the block, but he didn’t see any bodies, or even anyone who was not standing up or leaning against a car. Dino saw him and waved him over.

  He took Sarah and held her at arm’s length. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked.

  She seemed to get control of herself. “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “You’ve got some cuts on your legs,” Dino said. “Come on, we’re going to get you both to a hospital.”

  Bob Berman ran over to them. “Anybody hurt? That was a big bang.”

  “Not badly,” Dino said. “Get Stone and Sarah over to the emergency room at Lenox Hill Hospital.”

  “Can we take anyone else?” Stone asked.

  “I think you’re hurt worse than anybody else; you were closest to the blast, and Sarah was behind you,” Dino said. “Was it you who pulled the curtains?”

  “Yeah, I think I did.”

  “I think that had a damping effect and took a lot of the glass. You may have saved some lives, including your own. Come on, get in the car.”

  Berman already had it started. They got in, and Berman backed down the street to Fifth Avenue, his emergency blinkers on. “Hang on,” he said. “I’m going the wrong way on Fifth.” He turned uptown, dodging oncoming cars, and, two blocks north, turned east.

  “Smart move, Bob,” Stone said. “You wouldn’t have been able to get across Madison if you’d gone downtown. The explosion will have traffic backed up for fifty blocks.”

  Sarah had stopped crying and was sitting rigidly, clasping Stone’s free hand tightly, saying nothing.

  “Sarah, are you sure you’re all right?” Stone asked.

  “I’m all right,” she replied in a low voice.

  At Lenox Hill, Stone’s jacket and shirt were stripped off, and he was laid facedown on a gurney. Somebody gave him a local anesthetic and began picking glass out of his scalp and back.

  “You’re not badly hurt, sir,” a young resident said. “We’ve got more people arriving with similar injuries; what happened?”

  “A bomb,” Stone said. Somebody was shaving patches of his hair off, and he put a hand back to feel his head.

  “Don’t worry, beautiful,” a nurse said. “I won’t take any more hair than necessary. You’ll still be gorgeous.”

  “I’ve got a headache,” Stone said. “Can I have some aspirin?”

  “In a minute, after we’ve cleaned these wounds. You’re going to need a stitch here and there, too.”

  Stone tried to lie quietly and let them do their work. Finally, they sat him up, and the nurse handed him a white lab coat. “Better put this on to keep out the night,” she said. “Your jacket and shirt aren’t in such good shape.” She handed him the tattered garments. “You can go, now; let’s get you into a wheelchair; hospital policy.”

  “Where’s Sarah Buckminster?”

  “The lady with you? We patched some small cuts on her legs; she’s in the car with the man who brought you in.” She stopped at the door.

  Stone stood up. “Thanks; how long have I been here?”

  “I don’t know exactly; something over an hour.”

  Stone walked out to the car and got in. “Take us home, Bob.”

  The car moved out, and, shortly, they pulled into the garage. Stone held Sarah in the car until the garage door closed. Just before it did, Dino ducked under it.

  “Hey, I like the white coat,” he said. “Suits you better than the tuxedo. You okay?”

  “I’ve got a headache,” Stone said. “They forgot to give me some aspirin.”

  “Let’s get you upstairs,” Dino said, taking his arm.

  “Oh, come on, Dino, I’m not hurt; I can walk.” They went up to the master suite.

  Sarah went straight to the bathroom. “I’m taking a pill,” she said. “If anybody wants to speak to me while I’m conscious, he’d better do it now.

  Stone got her tucked into bed; then he took four aspirin, and he and Dino went into his study, where Dino poured them a drink. “What was the final count on the damage?” Stone asked.

  “A few cars,” “Dino said,” “a few shop windows, a few hysterical people, a few pictures; that’s about it. The bomb guys said it was just a bundle of dynamite tossed into the back of the van—no direction to it, no nails or other shrapnel, except the pieces of the van. None of that hit anybody inside the gallery. It blew in every direction. The van took the worst of it, the window, then the armored-glass window slowed it down some more, and the curtains damped some of that. The glass was designed to hold up to a point, then shatter into dull fragments. By the time the bomb blew we had nearly everybody in the back part of the gallery. We were real lucky; it could have been a slaughterhouse. Anderson and Kelly should have run every license plate on the block, but nobody told them to—I blame myself for that—and they weren’t expecting anythin
g like a bomb.”

  “I was expecting something,” Stone said, “but not that.”

  “It’s a bad business; but at least this will keep my investigation open. This will be all over the news tonight and the papers tomorrow. Why don’t you and Sarah get out of town?”

  “We’re already booked on a London flight tomorrow morning,” Stone said. “Think you can handle this without me?”

  Dino shot him a withering glance. “Gee, I’ll do my best.”

  34

  T HE HEADACHE WAS STILL THERE WHEN Stone woke up. Sarah was up and in the shower, and her suitcases were spread over her side of the bed. She came back into the bedroom, clad only in a towel.

  She held up a hand. “Don’t you look at me that way,” she said. “We’ve got a plane to catch, and there’s no time for hanky-panky.”

  Stone sat up in bed and put his feet on the floor. “You’re in no danger from me, not with the headache I’ve still got.”

  “You want something stronger than aspirin? I’m a walking pharmacy.”

  “You prescribe, I’ll imbibe.”

  She went to the bathroom and came back with a pill and a glass of water. “Don’t have any wine for breakfast; the two together will put you under the table.”

  Stone took the pill. “What time is it?”

  “It’s seven-thirty, and our flight is at ten. You’d better get packed; what with the security measures at the airport, we don’t even have time for breakfast. They’ll have something for us in the first-class lounge—pastries or something.”

  “Right, right,” Stone said. He took a shower, and by the time he was out, his headache was gone, though he felt a little fuzzy around the edges. He got packed, then put their luggage on the elevator, which he rarely used, and sent it to the basement. “Dino’s going to drive us to the airport, just to see that we get off safely.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Sarah said, getting into her coat. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They rode in Dino’s police car, with a young detective for a driver. Not much was said, but finally, Stone had time to think, and he was not happy. When they arrived at the airport, Sarah handed him the tickets and her passport. “Will you get us checked in?” she asked. “I’ve got to go to the loo, and it can’t wait.”

  Dino sent the young detective to escort her, and Stone got a porter and sent their luggage inside. He shook Dino’s hand. “Thanks for ferrying us out here,” he said.

  “Don’t worry about what’s going on here,” Dino said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “You should get the feds in on the bombing; they might come up with something.”

  “Already done; what’s left of the van is in their garage now.”

  “Listen, Dino, I don’t know if you’ve thought about this, but with Mary Ann and Ben in Brooklyn, and with Sarah and me out of the country, you’re all that’s left for these people to go after. You’re going to have to watch your ass.”

  “I always do,” Dino said. “You relax and have a good time. Call me, and I’ll update you on what’s happening.”

  “I’ll do that,” Stone replied. They hugged, and Stone followed the porter into the terminal. There was no line at the first-class counter, so check-in was quick. Stone set Sarah’s luggage on the scales. He was thinking hard.

  “Is this everything?” the woman at the counter asked. “Don’t you have any luggage?”

  He made up his mind. “There’ll just be one traveling. Do you mind if I leave my bags here for a few minutes? I’ll come back for them when I’ve seen my friend off.”

  The woman handed back the tickets and the passports. “Sure, I’ll keep an eye on them.” Stone stuck the tickets into his pocket, just as Sarah arrived.

  “Are we all set?” she asked.

  “Yep; let’s go find the first-class lounge.”

  They sat quietly and had coffee and pastries while Stone had a look at the Times. “Well, we made the front page,” he said.

  “I don’t want to hear about it,” she said. “I’m putting it out of my mind—and for God’s sake, don’t mention it to my parents. They’ll go bonkers.”

  “All right.”

  Their flight was called, and they walked silently to the gate. Stone waited until they were about to enter the airplane, then he took Sarah aside. “I can’t go,” he said. “I can’t leave Dino in the middle of all this; if I do, he’ll be their only target.”

  “Dino can take care of himself,” Sarah replied.

  “If these people got to him, I’d never forgive myself.”

  She looked at him for a moment. “Stone, I’m not coming back to New York.”

  “Look, this will be over, eventually. Stay with your folks until we’ve cleared it up, then come back.”

  “No, I’ve had it with this city. I left the first time because I was unhappy here; now it’s trying to kill me. I’m sorry, but I won’t be back.”

  “What about your attitude toward being pushed around by terrorists?” he asked.

  “I’ve reconsidered my position.”

  “You know I can’t live anywhere else but New York,”

  “I know.” She put her arms around him. “You’re the sweetest man I know, but, as you said, when there are enough coincidences lined up, it’s fate. The fates are against us.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She kissed him. “So am I.”

  He gave her her ticket and passport, and she disappeared down the ramp and into the airplane.

  Stone trudged back to the ticket counter, returned his ticket for credit, and picked up his bags. To his surprise, Dino’s car was still sitting at the curb. Stone tossed his bags into the backseat and got in. “I’m back from England,” he said.

  “How come?” Dino asked.

  “I didn’t like the weather.”

  “You let that girl go?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Will she come back when this is over?”

  “No. Take me to a hotel, Dino; if somebody watched me go, I don’t want him to know I’m back.” Dino motioned for his driver to move on. “That was some girl,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “You incredible schmuck.”

  “I know.”

  35

  S TONE CHECKED INTO THE CARLYLE Hotel and instructed the desk that they were not to acknowledge his presence there unless the caller asked for Elijah Stone, which was his maternal grandfather’s name.

  “Of course, Mr. Stone,” the desk clerk said.

  Once in his room he called his answering machine. There was only one message, from Bill Eggers. He returned the call, and Eggers came on the line.

  “It’s Stone.”

  “You all right? I read the Times.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “You came off as something of a hero.”

  “Don’t believe it. What’s up?”

  “We’re all ready to close on your Connecticut house.”

  “Oh, okay Today?”

  “Yep. The seller has already signed off on everything. All we need is your signature, notarized, a couple of dozen times, and a cashier’s check for the purchase price and closing costs; or you can give me a personal check and we’ll pay it out of our trust account.” He gave Stone the exact amount.

  “I’ll wire it to your trust account today, and you can issue the check.” He wrote down the law firm’s account number.

  “Sure; you want to come over today?”

  “Listen, Bill, I’m holed up at the Carlyle, and I don’t want to go out today. Could you come over here?”

  “Sure, what time?”

  “Come at noon; I’ll buy you a room-service lunch.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  “I’m in Room 1550, registered under the name of Elijah Stone.”

  “See you at noon.” Eggers hung up.

  Stone called his broker and asked him to wire-transfer funds from his money market account to the trust account of Woodman & Weld, then he cal
led ABC Furniture and asked them to go ahead and deliver his purchases to the Connecticut house.

  “We’ve got a truck going up that way tomorrow,” the woman said.

  “That’s great,” Stone replied. He called the housewares store and asked for overnight delivery on his purchases, then he called Bob Berman.

  “I thought you were on your way to England,” Berman said.

  “Change of plans. I didn’t want to go back to the house, so I’m at the Carlyle Hotel. I wonder if you’d do me a big favor?”

  “Name it.”

  “Would you go over to the house tonight—and I mean in the dead of night—make sure the house isn’t being watched, then let yourself in. You’ve still got a key?”

  “Yeah, not that I need one; I installed your security system, remember?”

  “I remember. Go up to my study; there’s a gun safe in a cabinet under one of the bookcases. Can you pick the lock?”

  “Is the pope Polish?”

  “Get the little Walther .765 automatic and its shoulder holster, and a spare clip. Then get the car out and take it to the Carlyle garage—it’s open twenty-four hours—and tell the attendant it’s for Mr. Stone in 1550. Lock the gun in the glove compartment.”

  “I can do that,” Berman said.

  “Thanks, Bob, I owe you one.”

  “Only one?”

  “All right, a couple of dozen.”

  “That’s more like it. Good luck on staying alive.” Berman hung up.

  That done, he called the Klemm office in Washington, Connecticut, and got the numbers of the local utilities and the phone company. By the time Bill Eggers rang the doorbell, he’d arranged for water and electricity, and he had phone numbers for the house.

  Bill Eggers came in, followed by Joan Robertson, who had earlier offered to help with Stone’s secretarial work. She greeted him cheerfully, as if he had not nearly gotten her involved in his current dangerous mess.