by Stuart Woods
“Come now, Lance,” Charter said. “You are dealing with a White House whose communications have been breached, only temporarily, of course. You would be within your rights to say nothing at that briefing, for fear it is reaching enemy ears.”
“He has a point, Lance,” said Ed Rawls, who had not spoken before then. “Suppose you tell her all these things at your briefing, and the Russians overhear all of it and choose to attack us first? Where will those of us in this room be then?”
“I’ll give you this much, Philip,” Lance said, glancing at his watch. “The briefing is scheduled for two pm tomorrow, our time; nine am at the White House. If you can recruit your men and be ready to present an assault plan at that time, I will present it to the president and, if I think it has a reasonable chance of success without starting an all-out war with the Sov . . . excuse me, Russians, I will endorse it.”
“Let me see what I can do,” Charter said.
Lance rose. “Then if you will all excuse me, I will take to my bed. Anything discussed in this room while I sleep, or try to, will have been said without my knowledge or participation. I trust you all to remember that at the subsequent congressional hearings. Good night.” Lance departed the room.
Everyone looked at each other. Rawls spoke first. “I can plan murders, but not military assaults. Good night.” He rose, and Sally rose with him. They left the room.
Charter turned toward Stone. “Well?”
“I have no military training or expertise to contribute,” Stone said, “beyond the ability to fire a weapon at something I can see, so I don’t believe I can be of any further use this evening.” He stood. “Rocky, I’m turning in. You’ll have to make your own decision.”
Rocky stood. “I’ll join you,” she said, and they walked out, leaving Colonel Philip Charter to commune with his intellect and his conscience.
* * *
—
When they were in bed, Rocky said, “Do you think he’ll do it?”
“I think that trying to predict what Philip Charter will do would be fruitless. I suppose we’ll hear about it tomorrow, but all I can think of is this lovely house pockmarked with bullet holes and perhaps on fire.”
“I cannot disagree,” Rocky said.
“Then I propose that tomorrow morning, after a good breakfast, we get the hell out of here and head for London, where I have shelter. I don’t think this happy band of Russian assassins will attack the city.”
“Neither do I,” Rocky said. “I’ll be packed and ready to go.”
32
Stone and Rocky, in view of the impending action, decided to have breakfast downstairs with the others. They were mostly seated when Philip Charter came into the room, a little out of breath.
Stone was ready to tell him to stand down, but Charter beat him to it. “My men have just conducted a search of the grounds and the hotel next door, and it appears that the Russians have cleared out.”
“That’s a relief, Philip. What do you suggest we do now?”
“I suggest that, during what may be a lull, you travel to London, and we’ll establish a perimeter around you at your house there.”
“Ed? What say you?”
“I’ve already accepted an invitation from Sally to spend a few days at her house in Chelsea.” He handed Stone a card. “This is her address and phone numbers.”
Stone handed him his own card, and Charter gave everybody his. He handed Stone a handheld radio. “We will follow you on the road. You can reach me on this or my cell phone on the trip north.”
Stone thanked him and he and Rocky ate breakfast.
* * *
—
Ed and Sally left first, in her Range Rover. Stone and Rocky followed a few minutes later in his Porsche 911. They barely got their luggage in.
“How long a drive is it?” Rocky asked.
“An hour and a half, with decent traffic. Could take longer.” They drove through the village and got onto the motorway.
“Do you see Charter’s people anywhere?” Rocky asked.
Stone checked his mirrors. “I see a white SUV that could be him.” He picked up the handheld. “Charter, this is Barrington. You there?”
“I’m a ways back.”
“Are you driving a white SUV?”
“No, mine is black.”
“Can you see me?”
“I could until a minute ago, but not now. Is your vehicle armored?”
“Only with speed,” Stone replied.
“Hold your speed. I’ll catch up.”
Stone watched his mirrors; it took a couple of minutes, then a black SUV was visible. “I see you,” he said. “Do you see the white vehicle?”
“Yes, and I don’t like the look of it. Get off at the next exit, go once around the roundabout, then get back on the motorway. Don’t use your turn signals.”
“Right. Exit coming up.” Stone stayed in the center lane, then, at the last moment, swerved left into the exit. He did a 360 on the roundabout, then drove onto the motorway again.
“Good,” Charter said. “We’re ahead of you and behind the white vehicle. We’ll pull up to him and get a look inside.”
Stone watched from a couple hundred yards back as the black SUV pulled into the left lane and accelerated, pulling alongside the white vehicle. Stone was too far back to hear anything, but he saw Charter’s vehicle swerve to the left again onto the stopping lane, then brake, seeming to fight for control, and pulled into the lane behind the white SUV again.
“Stone? Are you there?” Charter sounded agitated.
“I’m here.”
“We took a shotgun round through the rear window. There’s glass everywhere.”
“I can see you both. The white car is accelerating. Are you pursuing?”
“We’re tagging him, but staying well back. Are you armed?”
Stone looked at Rocky, and she nodded. “I’m not. My companion is.”
“Maintain your position; I’m calling the police on my cell.”
Stone stayed well back. A couple of minutes later he saw a flashing blue light approaching the motorway ahead of him, then enter it. Behind him he saw another blue light approaching fast in the lane to his left, and it passed him like a rocket. “The cavalry is arriving,” he said into the radio.
“Roger, I see them, and I’m in touch.”
“Rocky,” Stone said, “keep that weapon concealed and don’t draw it, unless we’re taking fire.” Stone followed the flashing blue lights, but kept well back.
“What’s the plan?” Rocky asked.
“I’m all out of plans, and I don’t know what Charter’s is. I’m just trying to keep them all in sight without getting arrested.”
“That’s a good plan,” she said.
Stone noticed that it required 110 mph to keep the blue lights in sight.
“You aren’t going to crash this thing at this speed, are you?” Rocky asked.
“Is your seat belt fastened?”
“A long time ago,” she said.
“So is mine. Short of slowing down, we’ve done all we can.”
“Are you considering that alternative?” she asked.
“Not yet. I want to see what happens.”
“I’m not all that curious,” she said. “I think I’d rather hear about it later.”
“Oh, come on! Be a sport!”
“Assuming I could do that, I’d still be frightened.”
Stone concentrated on staying in his lane, which had been cleared by the police car, and keeping the flashing blue lights in sight. Then something happened up ahead.
The white SUV veered to the right and appeared to cross over onto the southbound side of the motorway, against traffic. Then the white SUV seemed to rise into the air a couple of feet and turn onto its right side, then burst into flames.
“Was that Charter?”
“No. Did you see that?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure what I saw.”
“A cop pulled alongside the white SUV and crowded it. The driver pulled right, then seemed to lose control. He struck the steel divider and rolled over into the southbound lane.”
Charter called on the radio, “You okay?”
“Yes, we’re intact and still heading north.”
“How many in the vehicle?”
“Think I saw four, before the shotgun blast. I’m getting off at the upcoming exit to speak to the police. You continue as planned.”
“Okay, will do.” Traffic was moving freely again, since they had passed the burning vehicle, but the southbound lane had ground to a halt, and traffic was jamming up over there.
“Next stop, London,” Stone said.
“That’s okay with me,” Rocky said. “I’m just glad we didn’t get a closer look at the burning car.”
“So am I,” Stone said. “It can’t have been a pretty sight.”
33
Eventually Stone hit the London suburbs and had to slow for traffic and the fact that the roundabouts were closer together. He was in Ealing when Charter called again on the radio.
“I hear you, Philip,” he said.
“All right. I’ve got a team at your house already, they’re in Wilton Crescent and the housekeeper is helping them. They’ll have your garage doors open when you arrive. Drive right in, and don’t get out of the car until the doors are closed. I’ll come in through the front door. I have a key.”
“Good.” Stone made his way to Wilton Crescent. There was an electric gate at the entrance to the mews, and he opened it with his remote and drove slowly down the cobblestones. He saw his garage door open and pulled inside, waiting for it to close. As it did, the lights came on, and he was greeted by the couple who ran the house, Wilfred and Hilda, who dealt with the luggage while Stone and Rocky sat down for tea in the drawing room. A short while later, Charter entered and poured himself a cup from the service.
“All intact?” he asked.
“Sure. You’re the one who caught the shotgun. Anyone hurt?”
“One man got a couple of pellets in the face. He’s being attended to at a hospital.”
“Don’t the hospitals look at you askance when you walk in with a shotgun wound? Don’t they call the police?”
“Not if you have the right ID,” he said, waving a plastic-encased card. “I think they believe that Strategic Services is a government department, and I’ve no reason to enlighten them. They rounded up a plastic surgeon to deal with my man’s face, so apart from some swelling, he’ll be fine in a few days.”
“Any further contact with the Greek’s people?”
“No, and I hope he’s running out of them.” His radio squawked. “Yes?”
“Four men in a black Ford saloon car,” a voice said.
“Do they seem to know where they’re going?”
“I think they’re looking for the Porsche. We’ve moved the Range Rover out of the area.”
“Let them look, then.” Charter put down the radio. “It troubles me a bit that they’re replacing men so quickly. Makes me wonder how many they have at their disposal.”
“Do you have a theory as to how they got onto me?” Stone asked.
“The easy answer is they ID’d Ed Rawls and tracked him to your house in New York. I understand that you’ve had problems with them in the past, and that things went your way, not theirs. That would have irked them.”
“I suppose so, but I’d be surprised if they could track Ed. He took precautions.”
“What about you? What precautions were you taking?”
“Mostly just entering through the garage door, much as we did here.”
“There’s a very nice pub in the mews here,” Charter said.
“Yes, the Grenadier; it’s my favorite.”
“Stay out of it. It’s just the sort of place they’d hang out in to keep a watch on the house.”
“I suppose so.”
“We’ll sweep the place and see if we can spot them and clean them out.”
“Good. Are we going to be stuck in the house while we’re here?”
“That would be best. Your cook can do some shopping for you.”
“Look, Philip, I think we’d be better off in New York.”
“Your choice. I can’t argue with that.”
“I’ll order my airplane to pick us up at London City Airport. The crew will arrive tomorrow, rest for the night, and we’ll leave the day after.”
“I’d suggest you use RAF Northam, instead. It has civilian facilities, and we have a base there, and it’s mostly the M4 all the way. The South London suburbs are often jammed and could be a death trap.”
“Okay, I’ll pass that on to my pilot.”
“I’ll see what equipment is available for the transfer,” Charter said, and left the room with his phone in his hand.
Stone used a throwaway to phone Ed Rawls. “Yeah?”
“It’s Stone.”
“I hear you had a little imbroglio on the motorway,” he said.
“That was Charter. His car took a shotgun and one of his people was hit by some pellets.”
“Hot around here, isn’t it?”
“I was thinking of heading for more welcoming climes. To Teterboro the day after tomorrow. You up for that?”
“Can I bring Sally?”
“Sure, glad to have her.”
“Me, too. Let me know where to meet you.”
“We’ll be flying out of RAF Northam, out the M4.”
“I know it. I’ll find your airplane.”
“Let’s aim for wheels up at noon.”
“Okay.”
“Talk to you later.” They hung up.
Charter came back into the room. “We’re set up for day after tomorrow. Tell your people to taxi to our hangar. The tower will direct them. That way you can board indoors.”
“Sounds good. Wheels up at noon?”
“Very well. We’ll pick you up in the mews at ten. I’ll have a special vehicle for you.”
“Rawls and Sally are meeting us there. Where shall I tell them to go?”
“Look for signs to Ace Aircraft Interiors. That’s us. Come in the side door.”
Stone got on the phone to New York and spoke to both Joan and Faith, who would arrange for a crew. He gave Faith instructions for landing and taxiing, then hung up.
One of Charter’s people came in from the garage. “We’ve had a good look around the Grenadier,” he said. “There are two likely culprits.”
“Well, don’t kill them if they’re only likely,” Charter said. “Our van will come into the mews the day after tomorrow at 09:45. See that they’re occupied long enough for us to leave without their attention.”
“Right.”
Rocky, who had been listening to their conversations without commenting said, “Well, I guess a trip to Harrods is out.”
“Good guess,” Stone said. He called Rawls back to tell him about Ace Aircraft Interiors.
“What time will we get into Teterboro?” Rawls asked.
“Figure an eight-hour flight, depending on the headwinds. You and Sally are welcome to stay with me. We might do better if we’re all together.”
“I guess that’s so,” Rawls said.
“Ed,” Stone said, “I’m glad you’ll be along. We might need somebody shot.”
“I’m your man,” Rawls replied, then hung up.
34
Stone and Rocky were packing when one o
f Charter’s men rapped on the door.
“Come in.”
The man cracked the door. “I need the keys to the Porsche,” he said. “We’re going to drive it around the neighborhood for a few minutes, to try to suck in anybody who thinks he’s following you.”
Stone tossed him the key. “What are we riding in?”
“Our special van,” the man replied. “After the Porsche is gone, we’ll pull the van into the garage. You can board there.”
Wilfred came for their luggage. “I’m nervous,” Rocky said.
“That’s unlike you. You’re a field agent, you don’t get nervous.”
“Not so’s you’d notice it, but I do.”
“Let’s go see what this vehicle of theirs is,” Stone said.
“I hope it’s not a garbage truck,” Rocky replied.
They went down to the garage and found a Mercedes Sprinter waiting. It was dark blue and had the name J.P. Rockingham, Poulterer emblazoned on the side. When the door slid open, Stone found an interior much like a corporate jet: four facing seats and a table.
“I can stand this,” Rocky said, sliding into a reclining chair.
The sliding door closed, and light filled the garage as the door opened.
“Now’s the moment for an RPG,” Rocky said.
“No, the opposition is out following the Porsche around.”
They backed into the mews, and the garage door closed.
“What about the men in the pub?” Rocky asked.
“The pubs are closed this time of day,” Stone replied. He handed her the Times. “Think about this, instead.” He opened the Guardian to read himself.
The Sprinter made it out of the mews without being fired on, and soon they were mixed in with the westbound traffic, toward the M4.
“Everybody comfy back there?” The voice came from a speaker above the table.
Stone pressed a button on it. “Just fine, thanks.”
“No sign of a tail.”
“Good news,” Stone said, then went back to his paper.
Traffic was fairly heavy, but moving. Less than an hour later they turned off the motorway and drove for a few minutes to a large gate and through it without being stopped. Stone saw a sign reading ace aircraft interiors, and a minute later they turned into a parking lot and were let into a large hangar. Stone’s G-500 was parked inside.