Naked Greed (Stone Barrington)

by Woods, Stuart

  “Yep, but I don’t got change for this.”

  Frank sighed. “Keep it,” he said, and got out of the car, followed by Charlie. They walked back to the airplane.

  “Where to?” the pilot asked.

  “Back to the airport.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one we left from.”

  “You got it,” the pilot said, then started the engine and taxied onto the runway.

  “Will this airplane take off on this little bitty runway?” Charlie asked from the rear seat.

  “Let’s find out,” the pilot replied, then shoved the throttle forward.

  Stone lay on the bed, with Caroline on top, doing very nice things with her hips, while he moved under her. His cell rang.

  “Go ahead and get it,” Caroline said. “I’ll amuse myself.”

  Stone grabbed the iPhone from the bedside table. “Hello?”

  “You sound a little out of breath,” Dino said. “Am I disturbing you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Am I disturbing Caroline?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “I thought you’d like to know that Gino Parisi has put a couple of guys on you.”

  “So what else is new?”

  “No, a couple of new guys: experts, you might say.”

  “Experts at what?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “How are you getting this information?”

  “These guys are known to us, as are a few of their victims.”

  “No, I mean how did you know Parisi had hired them?”

  “The same way I knew about his earlier conversations.”

  “Oh. What were Parisi’s instructions to these two guys?”

  “He was a little cagey about that, but I gathered that, based on previous experience working for Gino, they knew what he meant.”

  “What did he mean?”

  “Let’s put that in the category of ‘undesirable.’”

  “You’re being pretty cagey yourself.”

  “No, I’m just being delicate.”

  “I hate it when you’re delicate. You never used to do that.”

  “My new job requires a lot of delicacy. I’m practicing on you.”

  Caroline did something that caused Stone to make a small, animal-like noise.

  “Is there a prairie dog in bed with you?” Dino asked.

  “No comment.”

  “Are you on that island in Maine?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because these two guys, whose names are Frank and Charlie, chartered an airplane earlier today at the Essex County Airport in New Jersey.”

  “Sweetie,” Caroline said, “you stopped moving.”

  “Sorry,” Stone said, and began to move again.

  “Sorry for what?” Dino asked.

  “Not you.”

  “Not sorry for me?”

  “Do you have any further information about the two guys, like if they filed a flight plan?”

  “All we know is that the airplane landed at an airport called five seven bravo.”

  “That’s the airport here.”

  “I kind of thought it might be. And, after being on the ground for about an hour and a half, the airplane returned to Essex County, where Frank and Charlie had left their car, which now has a tracking device planted on it.”

  “Is that legal?”

  “It is if we think they are about to commit a crime.”

  “And you do?”

  “Let’s just say they could do time for what they do to you, if they do to you what they usually do to people who annoy their employer.”

  “Were they in the airplane when it returned to New Jersey?”

  “Apparently so, because their car is now parked in the garage next door to Gino Parisi’s office.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “Not the relief you’re apparently seeking at the moment, but it will have to do, until the real thing comes along. I’m quoting from a popular song of the 1940s.”

  “Thank you for the attribution.”

  “I wouldn’t want to run afoul of the copyright laws.”

  “It sounds as if I’m all right, for the moment,” Stone said, then he let out a gasp.

  “I don’t know about ‘all right,’” Dino said. “You sound as if you should be on oxygen.” He hung up.

  “Who was that?” Caroline asked, without breaking stride.

  “That was Dino.”

  “Who is Dino?”

  “The police commissioner of New York City.”

  Caroline suddenly climaxed, with the attendant noises, and he quickly caught up.

  After another minute or so she rolled off him and snuggled up. “Do you only deal with people at the top?”

  “Whenever possible.”

  “Why did you call the police commissioner?”

  “He called me.”

  “All right, same question.”

  “He called to say that we were followed to Maine by two men in another airplane.”

  She sat up in bed. “Are these the two men we’re trying to avoid?”

  “Yes.”

  “And they’re here?”

  “No, they stayed about an hour and a half, then they flew back to New Jersey.”

  “What did they do while they were here?”

  “I don’t have any hard evidence, but I imagine they were looking for us.”

  “Did they find us?”

  “Apparently not, or we would now be duct-taped naked to chairs while they burned us with cigarettes.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, that was an unfortunate metaphor.”

  “A metaphor for what?”

  “For whatever they intended to do to us—sorry, to me.”

  “Should we get out of here?”

  “No, they have already done so.”

  She fell back onto the bed. “Thank heavens!”

  “May I go back to sleep for a little while?”

  “Of course,” Caroline said. “I can wait.”

  Gino Parisi’s face had turned puce. “You chartered what?”

  Frank gave a dismissive little wave. “An airplane.”

  Gino was sucking in air fast now. “What kind of an airplane?”

  “A small, cheap one,” Frank replied.

  “How cheap?” Gino demanded.

  “Six hundred bucks, cash,” Frank replied, handing him the receipt. “It’s deductible as a business expense.”

  Gino’s jaw was working, but no words were coming out.

  “Gino,” Frank said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “should I call the paramedics?”

  Gino still couldn’t speak, but he shook his head slowly. “I’m all right,” he said finally.

  “I’m glad to hear it. You shouldn’t get all worked up about a necessary business expense, Gino. It’s not good for your health.”

  Gino’s color was nearly normal by now. “Tell me what’s necessary about chartering an airplane.”

  “The person you asked us to . . . ah, meet with, shall we say, got into an airplane and flew to a little airport on an island in Maine. I know this, because I tracked his flight on my iPad.”

  Gino’s face screwed up into a knot. “An I what? What are you talking about?”

  “It’s an electronic device in common usage these days. It does lots of things—ask your grandchildren.”

  “And how much did that cost?”

  “A few hundred. Don’t worry, it’s included in our fee.”

  “Well, un-include it! I’m not paying for any electronic crap.”

  “I paid for it myself, Gino, and for the electronic tag I put on Barrington’s car.”

  “Let’s
get back to the airplane: You flew it to Maine?”

  “That’s right. We landed where Barrington landed—his airplane was on the ramp there.”

  “And what did you do to him?”

  “Well, things didn’t go exactly as planned. We were unable to find him.”

  “On an island? How many people on this island?”

  “I don’t know, not many. None of them knew Barrington, though, and he wasn’t in the phone book. We searched the whole island and couldn’t find him. These things happen, Gino. We could be in Manhattan and not be able to find him on a given day.”

  “I’m not paying for things that didn’t happen,” Gino said firmly.

  “We’re not charging you by the minute, Gino. Our deal was our fee, plus expenses. This was an expense. It’s the cost of doing business.”

  “But why Maine? Why didn’t you just wait for him to come back?”

  “Think about it, Gino. Maine is better—it’s farther removed from you. And us, for that matter. Cops are going to get involved, eventually. Would you rather they be hick cops on a little island in Maine, or real cops in New York City?”

  Gino’s features softened. “You got a point there.”

  “In my judgment Maine was worth a shot,” Frank said. “One of the things you’re paying me for is my judgment.”

  “Okay, how long is he gonna be in Maine? Maybe you could go back.”

  “There’s no way of knowing that, but I’m working on finding out where he is on the island. If we find out where he is, we can go back and, ah, meet with him there.”

  “Okay, that’s good,” Gino said. “You do that, and let’s deal with the hick cops.”

  “If this goes like I want it to go, we won’t have to deal with any cops at all,” Frank said. “Now, I have to get on this.”

  “You go get on it,” Gino said. “And if you find him, it’s okay to charter the plane again.”

  “Thank you, Gino.” Frank left the office and walked back to the car, where Charlie was waiting for him.

  “He didn’t shoot you on the spot?” Charlie asked, surprised.

  “He listened to reason,” Frank replied. “Now we have to find out where Barrington is on the island, then we can go back.”

  “Go all the way back to Maine?”

  “If that’s where he is, that’s where we’ll go.”

  “How we going to find out where he is?”

  “I’m gonna call my nephew, who works in real estate, and have him do a search of the property records on the island.” Frank got out his phone and tapped in a number. “It’s ringing,” he said.

  “How’s he going to search the property records? It’s Saturday.”

  “Real estate agents work on Saturdays,” Frank said. “So do computers. Hello, Eddie? It’s Uncle Frank.”

  On Sunday morning, at the crack of dawn, Frank and Charlie set out for Essex County Airport in New Jersey. Frank carried a large briefcase that held what he liked to think of as tools, plus a large-scale map of Islesboro with the location of Stone Barrington’s house marked. They were met at the airport by their new friend, the pilot, and paid him in advance for the charter, plus an extra hundred for flying on Sunday.

  “The weather’s a little iffy,” the pilot said, as they buckled into their seats.

  “What exactly do you mean by ‘iffy’?” Charlie asked.

  “Scattered thunderstorms in the area of the island. Don’t worry, I have radar and Nexrad.”

  “What’s Nexrad?”

  “It’s the weather you see on TV. Helps us fly around the bad stuff.”

  “Don’t worry, Charlie,” Frank said, “he can deal with it.”

  They took off and headed northeast. They were half an hour out of Islesboro when they flew into clouds.

  “I can’t see anything!” Charlie shouted.

  “Shut up, Charlie!” Frank shouted back. “You don’t need to see anything. Everything’s under control.”

  Charlie tried to tighten his seat belt, but it wouldn’t move; he unfastened it to get a better grip. Suddenly, it got dark in the airplane, and there was a flash of lightning. The airplane dropped fifty feet like a stone, and Charlie banged his head on the ceiling.

  “Fasten your seat belt, Charlie!” Frank shouted.

  Charlie, who was still plastered to the ceiling as the airplane continued to drop, could only scream. Then he was pressed against the floor of the plane as it began to climb again. Finally, Charlie was able to scramble back into his seat and get his seat belt fastened. A clap of thunder nearly deafened him and masked his next scream.

  Then, magically, the airplane broke out of the clouds and the runway lay dead ahead of them. The pilot set the plane down as if nothing had happened, and on the ramp, everybody got out. Charlie vomited a couple of times. “I ain’t going back in this thing,” he vowed.

  “Don’t worry,” the pilot said, “the storms are passing to the north as we speak. In an hour, it will be bright sunshine.” It began to rain heavily.

  Frank got out his phone and dialed the number he had called yesterday for the cab.

  “Hello?” A woman’s voice.

  “Can I speak to Ernie, please.”

  “He’s asleep.”

  “Well, I need a cab at the airport.”

  “Ernie don’t work on Sundays. He’s a Holy Roller.”

  “Huh?”

  “A Holy Roller—you know, religious-like.”

  “Do me a favor and put Ernie on the phone.”

  “He don’t like it when I wake him.”

  “He won’t like missing the money I’m gonna offer him.”

  “All right, I’ll try. Hang on.” She put the phone down, and Frank could hear a couple of kids babbling and whining in the background.

  “What’s going on?” Charlie asked, wiping the rain from his eyes.

  “She’s getting Ernie for me.”

  “Hello?” Ernie sounded sleepy and pissed off.

  “Ernie, it’s me from yesterday. I need a cab at the airport now.”

  “I don’t work on Sundays.”

  “Two hundred dollars,” Frank said.

  “Not even for two hundred.”

  “Tell you what, Ernie, I’ll rent your car for a couple of hours for two hundred, and I’ll drive it myself.”

  “Listen, that’s a classic Plymouth—can’t be replaced.”

  “Come on, Ernie, how much?”

  “Five hundred.”

  “Done. Get your ass to the airport.” Frank hung up. “He’ll be here in a minute.” They joined the pilot, who was already inside the airplane. The rain pounded on the aluminum top.

  —

  Stone and Caroline went down for breakfast; he wanted to get Caroline dressed and out of the bedroom before she killed him. Mary made omelets with cheese and ham and gave them freshly squeezed orange juice and sensational coffee.

  After breakfast Stone checked the radar on his iPhone. “Looks great,” he said. “The thunderstorms have passed, and we’ve got a clear shot at Teterboro.”

  “Can’t we wait until tomorrow?” Caroline asked.

  “Nope, another line of thunderstorms is coming tomorrow,” he lied. Stone didn’t like lying, but his health was at stake.

  “I’d better pack, then.” She went upstairs, then came back with her bag and his. “I packed for you, too,” she said.

  Seth brought the old station wagon around and drove them to the airport. A mile down the road they passed Ernie’s taxi going the other way. “Who was that driving Ernie’s cab?” Stone asked Seth. “I thought he didn’t work Sundays.”

  “I dunno,” Seth said. “T’wasn’t Ernie, though.”

  At the airport the rain had finally stopped; Stone loaded their luggage and began a preflight. He noticed that Ernie was sitting in a Cessna 18
2 parked on the ramp.

  —

  Frank pulled into Barrington’s driveway, and he and Charlie got out. He rang the doorbell politely, and braced himself to kick it open if he met resistance.

  A gray-haired woman in an apron appeared and opened the door. “May I help you?”

  “I’d like to speak to Mr. Barrington, please.”

  “You just missed him,” the woman replied. “He left for the airport a few minutes ago.”

  “Thank you,” Frank said, and he and Charlie ran for Ernie’s cab. It started reluctantly, then Frank floored the thing.

  “I hope we don’t miss him,” Charlie said helpfully.

  “This thing won’t do more than forty,” Frank replied, stomping on the accelerator. They made the turn at the airport sign and raced toward the runway, just in time to see Barrington’s jet taxi off the ramp.

  —

  Okay,” Stone said, turning around at the end of the runway, “short-field takeoff. Flaps at the first notch, brakes on, full power.” He pushed the throttles forward, then waited with the brakes on until he had the engines roaring. “Here we go!” He released the brakes, and they were pressed back into their seats.

  “Are we going to make it?” Caroline asked, tightening her seat belt.

  “I’ll let you know in a minute,” Stone said. He pulled back on the yoke, and the airplane rose from the runway. “We made it!” Stone said. “Gear and flaps up.” They climbed into the newly clear blue sky.

  —

  Back at the airport, Frank and Charlie stared at the departing jet.

  “Well,” Frank said, “at least we know where he’s going.”

  Ernie walked over. “That’ll be five hundred.”

  Back at Teterboro, Stone turned their luggage over to a lineman and walked into the terminal with Caroline.

  “Sweetheart,” he said, “I’m going to need a break.”

  “I’m not surprised,” she said. “You had a really good run there, but I’m greedy and hard to keep up with.”

  “I couldn’t have put it better,” he said. They got into the car. “What’s your address?”

  “I’m in Soho.”

  “Fred, you can drop me first, then take Ms. Woodhouse downtown?”

  “Righto, sir.”

  They arrived at Stone’s house. He kissed Caroline and opened the door.