by Stuart Woods
“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 light?off 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?”
? 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 suppose 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?”
“Of course,” Stone said.
“Stone?” Kate Lee said.
“Mrs. Lee, I know why you’re calling.”
“I should think you do. What on earth is going on?”
Stone looked at Holly; he needed to hand off this call.
“I’m not here,” Holly whispered.
“We haven’t found out yet, but we’re working on it. May I call you back later today, when I should know more?”
“Oh, all right,” she said, “but it had better be good.” The first lady hung up.
“Oh, shit,” Stone said. He sat down on the bed and put his face in his hands.
41
Dino drove, while Stone worked the car’s navigator and Holly sat in the rear seat. The sexy woman’s voice directed them, turn by turn, to a pleasant street in Arlington, Virginia.
“Uh-oh,” Holly said, “look up ahead.”
There were two large vans parked on the street in front of a nice split-level house, and there were half a dozen other cars, as well. The lawn was populated with men and women with cameras, microphones, and notebooks. “Oh, Jesus,” Stone said.
“Pull over here,” Holly said, when they were three or four houses away.
“Aren’t we going in?” Stone asked.
“Are you kidding? After that story in the papers this morning, every reporter here has a photo of you and Dino in his pocket. You’d be manufacturing a whole new headline.”
“I see your point,” Stone said.
“Further to my point,” Holly said, “they don’t have a photo of me in their pockets, and I’m not going to give them the opportunity to take one.”
“So, what do we do?” Dino asked.
“Just sit tight for a minute,” Holly said, taking out her cell phone and dialing a number. When it was answered, she identified herself. “I need a street cleaned, and right now,” she said. She gave the address of Charlotte Kirby’s house. “Two TV vans, half a dozen cars, and a dozen reporters and technicians. Soonest. And I want the street blocked for the rest of the day, except for identified residents.” She hung up. “It’ll be a few minutes,” she said.
“You can do that?” Dino asked. “Block a street and throw out the media?”
“Let’s just say someone can do it,” Holly replied. “You and I don’t need to know whom.”
“Who,” Stone said drily.
“Oh, shut up.”
Stone leafed through his copy of the Times, folded the Arts section back to the crossword, uncapped his pen, and started in.
“He does that every day,” Dino said.
“Don’t I know it?” Holly replied.
“In ink,” Dino said, “just to annoy me.”
“I wish you two had brought your own crosswords,” Stone said. “Now, be quiet so I can think.”
“You need quiet to think?” Holly asked. “You wouldn’t make it as a CIA officer.”
“And you never finish a crossword,” Stone said.
They sat quietly in the car for another ten minutes, then two Arlington police cars drove into the street from opposite ends, their lights flashing, no sirens. The cars stopped, and four officers emerged and engaged the crowd on the lawn in conversations. Voices were raised, arms were waved, and insults were shouted, but the crowd eventually was swallowed up by their respective vans and cars and drove out of the block, whereupon the two police cars took up station at each end of the street.
“I think we can go in now,” Holly said.
“That was very n?eatly done,” Dino said admiringly as he drove to the house and pulled into the driveway. “If I tried to do that in New York, I’d end up in stocks.”
“We can do it in New York, too,” Holly said, getting out of the car.
The three of them walked to the front door of the house and Stone rang the bell. Nothing happened. Stone stepped back and regarded the house. A lamp was on in a window, but there was no other sign of life.
“She’s not going to answer,” Dino said.
Holly started to walk to the rear of the house. “Wait here,” she said.
Stone and Dino leaned against the wrought-iron railing of the porch and waited. “She’s going to break in,” Dino said, “isn’t she?”
“They teach them that at the Agency,” Stone replied.
The front door opened and Holly waved them inside. “Mrs. Kirby invites you in,” she said. “She’s in her bedroom, if you’d like to follow me.” Holly led them to a bedroom door, opened it, but stopped them before they could enter. “Let’s preserve the scene for the local cop shop.”
Charlotte Kirby was sitting up in bed, but her head had rolled to one side. The wall behind the bed and a picture hanging on it were spattered with blood and brain matter, and there was a hole in the picture.
“From what I can see,” Dino said, “self-administered gunshot wound to the head, via the mouth. Fairly small caliber.”
“I concur,” Stone said.
“So do I,” Holly replied.
“Why is it that everybody we need information from in this case either offs himself or somebody does it for him?” Stone asked plaintively.
“I’ve noticed that,” Holly said drily, taking out her cell phone and pressing a speed-dial number. “Okay,” she said, “time to get the locals in here. They’ll need a wagon and a crime-scene team. Looks like a suicide.” She hung up.
“I don’t see a weapon,” Stone said. “Can’t I just tiptoe in there and look around for it?”
“Absolutely not,” Holly replied. “They’ve been nice enough to clear the street for us, so we’re not going to fuck up their crime scene by way of thanks.”
; “Oh, all right,” Stone said.
“If somebody fired the shot for her, they’ll still find a gun,” Dino said. “The March Hare is not stupid, that much we know.”
“Oh,” Holly said, “I think poor Charlotte had plenty of reason not to want to ever leave her bed again.”
“I’ll bet there’s a diary in the bedside drawer,” Stone said.
“I’d certainly like to find out,” Dino replied. “Holly?”
“Don’t point that thing at me,” Holly said. “You want to tiptoe in there and take a peek, it’s on your head.”
“Nah,” Dino said, “it’s on Stone’s head. He’s the only one here who doesn’t have a government job to hang on to.”
“Oh, all right,” Stone said. He slipped off his shoes and tiptoed across the rose-colored carpet to the bedside table and, with his pen, engaged the drawer pull and slid it open. He poked around in the drawer with the pen, then closed it and tiptoed back to the door. “No diary,? “No d” he said. “Just condoms, lubricant, and tissues.”
“Charlotte was ready for anything, wasn’t she?” Holly asked.
Stone started down the hall, back toward the front of the house.
“Where are you going?” Holly asked.
“I want to see what else is in this house,” Stone replied.
Dino followed, producing a pair of latex gloves from a pocket and donning them.
Holly trailed the two. The three of them stood in the neat living room and looked around, then Stone walked into what turned out to be a den.
There was a desk and some bookcases and a filing cabinet. “You do this one, Dino,” Stone said. “You’re gloved.”
Dino started with the filing cabinet. “Bills, tax returns, a file of clippings from travel magazines,” Dino said, after a minute’s look.
“Try the desk,” Stone said.
Dino walked to the desk and opened the three top drawers. “Bingo,” he said.
42
Someone hammered on the front door. Holly went to answer it, and Dino stuffed the diary under his belt in the small of his back. Holly returned with two police detectives and a couple of people with satchels. Holly directed them to the bedroom, but one detective remained with them.