The Short Forever

by Stuart Woods

  Carpenter turned back to Stone. “When did you say you would transfer the funds?”

  “Before the day was out.”

  “Have you done it?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’d better get moving, hadn’t you?”

  Stone went into the kitchen and used the phone there to call his broker in New York.

  “Richardson.”

  “Hank, it’s Stone Barrington.”

  “Hi, Stone, what’s up? Got some more money for me?”

  “No, I’m taking some out.”

  “How come?”

  “I can’t explain right now. How much have I got in my money market account?”

  “Hang.” Stone could hear computer keys clicking. “Three hundred and ten thousand, give or take. The way the market is going, I’m getting ready to start investing it.”

  Stone took out the document from the Swiss bank. “Got a pencil?”

  “Yep.”

  “I want you to transfer two hundred and fifty thousand to the following account number at the Charter Bank in Zurich.” He read the account number twice. “Got that?”

  “I’ve got it. Listen, Stone, I can do as well for you as the Swiss, you know, probably better.”

  “This is a short-term thing, Hank; I’ll have the money back in my account with you in a couple of days.”

  “Is this ransom money, Stone? Has somebody been kidnapped?”

  “No, nothing like that. Just do it, Hank.”

  “I’m going to need written confirmation; can you fax me something?”

  “In five minutes; go stand by the fax machine.” Stone hung up, then went upstairs to his room and opened his briefcase. He took out a sheet of his letterhead, wrote a letter of instructions, then took it down to James Cutler’s study and faxed it to Richardson. Then he went back into the drawing room.

  Carpenter was on her cellphone, and she waved him to a seat. She ended the conversation, snapped the phone shut, and turned to Stone. “Did you get it done?”

  “The money will be in Zurich within the hour.”

  “Good. What are you supposed to do when it’s there?”

  “Lance is to phone me on my cellphone tomorrow morning and tell me where to transfer it. I’m not going to do that, of course.”

  “Why not?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Are you kidding? It’s a quarter of a million dollars that I worked very hard for. You think I’m going to flush it down some cockamamy security operation I don’t really give a damn about?”

  She looked miffed. “I quite understand; I’ll do something about getting hold of some funds tomorrow. Obviously, if we don’t transfer the money, Cabot isn’t going to go through with the buy.”

  “He said that everything will have to be done at precise times from then on.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get the money. And we’ll put someone on his house, to keep track of him.”

  “I wouldn’t do that; he might spot your people, no matter how good they are. He’s been trained for that, you know.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right,” she said.

  “Why did you want me to think Mason was in charge?”

  She smiled. “The less you know, the better.”

  “Carpenter and Mason,” Stone said. “I’ll bet you have a colleague named Plumber.”

  She laughed. “Let’s just stick with those names for the moment, shall we?”

  “What are you doing for dinner, Carpenter?”

  She blushed. “Maybe when this is over,” she said. She stood up. “Now I have to go find that money.” She walked into the dining room, dialing her cellphone.

  50

  CARPENTER AND MASON MADE MORE phone calls, then Mason made ready to leave. “I can be in the director’s office at Eastover by five,” he said.

  “Wait until half-past. Give the building time to empty out after work,” Carpenter said. “Is everything in motion?”

  “Our people are meeting at a country hotel a few miles from Eastover,” he said. “When we’ve identified our man, I’ll get them cracking.”

  “Good. Call me if there are any problems.”

  “Where will you be?” he asked.

  “At the end of my cellphone,” she replied.

  “All right; will you need transport?”

  “If I do, I’ll use Barrington’s Jaguar.”

  Mason nodded and left.

  “He’s really quite good,” she said to Stone. “If a little short of imagination sometimes. I’m not sure that can be cured. Now, I have some phoning to do; may I use something besides the dining room?”

  “Yes, Cutler’s study, right through there.” He pointed at the door.

  “Maybe we should plan on dinner,” she said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Lance Cabot decided to rush things a bit.”

  “All right.”

  She disappeared into the study. Stone called Sarah at her studio.

  “Hey, there,” she said brightly. “Are we on for dinner and, you know?”

  “I’m afraid not; some business has come up, and I’m going to be tied up all evening. Maybe all night. How about tomorrow night?”

  “Oh, all right,” she said, sounding disappointed. “I must have worn you out last night.”

  “Not entirely.”

  “Good; well, you have until tomorrow evening to rest. I’ll see you then.”

  “Until then.” He hung up. With nothing else to do, he read the papers until Carpenter emerged from the study around six.

  “Well, I’ve done all I can do until we hear from Mason,” she said. As if on cue, her cellphone rang. “Yes?” She listened intently. “Do you have enough people for that? Well, get more; then call Portsmouth, if necessary. Do you want me to call them? All right, get back to me.” She hung up. “A complication,” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “There are, believe it or not, two people who fit the description of Cabot’s contact at Eastover. One of them is a woman.”

  “Lance always referred to his contact as ‘he.’ ”

  “But ‘he’ could be a woman, so we have to surveil them both; there’s no way around it. Mason is getting more help.”

  “What happens at Eastover?”

  “Eastover is a code word for a government facility on an army base in Wiltshire, north of Stonehenge.”

  “And what do they make there?”

  “Very serious items,” she said. “Things that are shared only with your government, things that are vital to both our defenses.”

  “Were they able to recognize the device from what Lance said about it?”

  “As there are two people, there are two devices, made in separate departments; it could be either of them.”

  “Is there nothing else you can tell me?”

  “Suffice it to say that, if either of the devices fell into the hands of an unstable government or a terrorist organization, it might give them capabilities that neither my government nor yours would like them to have.”

  “Weapons capabilities?”

  She nodded. “Now, don’t ask me any more.”

  “All right.”

  “Do you like Chinese food?”

  “You betcha.”

  “I know a place; we’ll order in. It’s all right, is it, that we have dinner here?”

  “Yes, of course, but order for three; my friend Dino is upstairs asleep.”

  “May I use the phone? My department frowns on the use of secure cellphones for ordering Chinese.”

  “Sure, there’s one in the kitchen.”

  “It will be an hour or so,” she said. “The restaurant is in Gerard Street, in Soho, not far from my, ah, place of business; they’ll send it over in a taxi.”

  “Do I pay the driver when he arrives?”

  “No, it’s already been charged to a business account.”

  “For future reference, what’s the restaurant?”

  “The Dumpling Inn. It’s good for a quick before-the-ater dinner, a short block of
f Shaftsbury Avenue.”

  “I’ll make a note,” he said, “for a future trip. Would you like a drink while we wait?”

  “Thank you, yes; is there any bourbon?”

  Stone went to a liquor cabinet across the room and found a bottle of Knob Creek. “Yes, and a good one. Where would a proper, Oxford-educated Englishwoman acquire a taste for bourbon?”

  “I did some training in Virginia, near Washington.”

  “At the Farm?”

  “How did you know that?” she demanded.

  “Lance Cabot told me he spent some time there.”

  “True; he was in the class just a year ahead of mine; we heard about him.”

  “Was Stan Hedger running the place then?”

  “Yes; you do know a lot, don’t you?”

  “Not a lot. Just enough to sound knowledgeable. Ice?”

  “Yes, please; I learned that in Virginia, too.”

  There was an ice machine built into the cabinet; Stone returned with the two drinks and sat down. They clinked glasses.

  “Mmmm, good one,” she said. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s one of a rash of boutique bourbons that have cropped up the past few years. Sort of like your single-malt Scotches.”

  Her cellphone rang. “Yes? Well, give the man priority. Try and have it done before he gets home. You’ll just have to do the other one while the house is occupied; it must be done as soon as possible.” She hung up. “Mason is bringing more personnel up from our Portsmouth office, but right now we’ve only enough people to wire one house, and I’ve chosen the man, since he’s working late in the lab.”

  “Probably getting his device ready to sell.”

  “Probably.”

  “Did you enjoy the training at the Farm?”

  She smiled. “I adored it, the rougher the better. I’m quite a tomboy, you know. I grew up outdoors, around horses, played polo. At school, I was a vicious lacrosse player; had a terrible reputation among our opponents.”

  “I expect your people liked that about you, when you were being considered for your work.”

  “No, I think they would have preferred me working in a code room, or something else less masculine. Mason has been working for me for two years, and he’s never really become accustomed to being bossed around by a woman. That’s one reason I let him take the lead with you; good for his ego.”

  “You’re not married?”

  She held up a bare ring finger. “How very observant of you.”

  “Oh, I’m real quick.”

  “Marriage would be difficult. If I married inside my organization there would be the problem of arranging compatible postings, office politics, all that. If I married outside, I’d probably have to resign.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, many of our male employees are married to civilians, their wives having been well vetted, of course. But for our management, it doesn’t seem to work both ways. There’d still be the problem of postings, and they’d be fearful of an officer having to rush home and cook dinner for her husband. And, of course, children would be an unbearable complication. I love the work so much, I rather think I won’t marry.”

  Dino appeared, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Not a lot. You up for Chinese?”

  “I’m always up for Chinese,” Dino replied.

  51

  THEY DINED FROM CARDBOARD CARTONS on Wedgwood plates. The food was superb, and Stone had found a dry, white Bordeaux in James Cutler’s cellar that was a perfect companion to Chinese food. Among the three of them, they managed two bottles.

  Stone’s cellphone rang. “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s me,” Lance’s voice said.

  “Lance,” Stone mouthed to Carpenter. She came and put her ear next to his.

  “What’s up? Everything on schedule?”

  “Did you wire the funds into the Swiss account?”

  “Yes; they would have been there before the close of business.”

  “Good; then we’re a go.”

  “When is the buy going to take place?”

  “The evening of the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow morning I have to arrange for the cash to be transported from Zurich to England. You’ll wire it to an account in Belgium, and it will be across the Channel as quickly as possible. I’ll give you the wiring instructions tomorrow morning, so don’t be far from your cellphone.”

  “Lance, I want to be there for the buy.”

  Lance was quiet for a moment. “That isn’t necessary,” he said.

  “It’s necessary for me. I don’t want to be separated from my money.”

  Lance laughed. “All right; we’ll arrange to meet west of London; I’ll give you an address.”

  “Why don’t you just pick me up?”

  “Because I won’t be returning to London after the buy; you’ll need transportation. Believe me, this is the best way to do it.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I’ll call you at nine o’clock tomorrow morning with the wiring instructions.”

  “All right, good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Stone punched off the phone. “What do you think?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “Let’s wait until you hear from him with the wiring instructions. By that time, I’ll have the funds available to make the transfer. We’ll wire them to your Swiss account, and then you can forward them to the Belgian account. That way it will look entirely kosher. You’ll have to sign for the funds, of course.” She smiled. “We can’t have you running off with our money.”

  “Suppose I did?”

  “I’d hunt you down; you couldn’t hide for long.”

  “I don’t think I’d want you on my trail,” Stone said.

  Carpenter looked at her watch. “I have to go home and get some sleep.”

  “Can I drive you?”

  “I’m within walking distance.”

  “Then I’ll walk you.”

  “That won’t do, I’m afraid. You get some sleep; I’ll be back here by eight in the morning.” She stood up.

  Stone walked her to the door and said good night. Stone went back to the kitchen, where Dino was polishing off a final dumpling.

  “She doesn’t want you to know where she lives,” Dino said.

  “I guess not.”

  “Or her name.”

  “I guess not.”

  “It’s a shame; she’s quite a broad; I’ve never met anybody like her.”

  “Neither have I,” Stone admitted.

  “What did you tell Sarah about tonight?”

  “Business.”

  “I suppose that wasn’t too much of a lie.”

  “I try never to lie.”

  “The best policy,” Dino agreed.

  They had a brandy, then went to bed.

  Stone was already up and dressed the following morning, when Carpenter rang the bell.

  “Good morning,” she said. Today she was dressed more informally, in a cotton pantsuit that complemented her figure.

  “Come in,” Stone said.

  “Heard anything from Cabot?”

  “No, not yet. He said he’d call at nine. Have you had breakfast?”

  “No.”

  “Come to the kitchen; I’ll make you some eggs.”

  Carpenter followed him into the kitchen, where Dino was making coffee. Stone scrambled some eggs, English-style, and fried some superb smoked Irish back bacon. They were just finishing when nine o’clock came.

  Stone looked at his watch. “Any minute,” he said.

  “My funds are ready to go,” Carpenter said. “The minute you have the wiring instructions.”

  By ten o’clock, Stone had still not heard from Lance.

  “Call him,” Carpenter said.

  Stone dialed the Farm Street house; Erica answered.

  “Hi,” Stone said, “may I speak with Lance?”

  “He’s not here,” she said, and she sounded upset.

  “W
hat’s wrong?” Stone asked.

  “He left in the middle of the night; I didn’t wake up until Monica called a few minutes ago.”

  “You sound a little groggy.”

  “I know; I can’t seem to wake up.”

  “Did Lance leave a note?”

  “No, nothing; and all his clothes are gone. I mean, everything, and all his luggage, too.”

  “I’ll call you back,” Stone said, and hung up. He turned to Carpenter. “Sounds like Lance drugged Erica last night, then packed up and decamped. Does this change anything?”

  “No,” she said. “It makes sense that he’d not tell her where he’s going, and he wouldn’t want to return to the house after the buy.”

  “But why would he go two days before the buy?”

  “This leads me to think that the exchange will be tonight, rather than tomorrow. It can’t happen any earlier than that, because his man at Eastover will be working all day; if he didn’t show up for work, our people would be all over him.”

  “Then why hasn’t Lance called with the wiring instructions?” Stone asked. “He can’t make the buy without the funds, and he made the very good point last night that the cash would have to be transported to England. This doesn’t make any sense.”

  Carpenter got out her cellphone and went into the study. She came back a few minutes later. “Both our suspects at Eastover are at work, as usual,” she said. “We’ll be notified if they leave the installation for any reason, and there are people there to keep track of them if they do.”

  Stone was suddenly struck with an odd feeling. “Excuse me a minute, will you?” He went upstairs and retrieved his copy of the Swiss bank documents. There was an account manager’s name at the top of the first page, and a telephone number. Stone dialed the number.

  An operator answered, repeating only the number.

  “May I speak with Dr. Peter von Enzberg?” Stone asked.

  “Who is calling, please?” the operator asked in stiff English.

  “My name is Stone Barrington.”

  “One moment.” There was a brief pause, followed by several clicks.

  “This is Peter von Enzberg,” a deep voice said, sounding very English. “Is that Mr. Barrington?”

  “Yes, Doctor. I opened an account yesterday and transferred some funds from New York.”

  “Of course, Mr. Barrington; we received the funds in good order.”