Indecent Exposure

by Stuart Woods

  “Holy shit! And you missed that story?”

  “Hazel, the entire world missed that story. I told you, we didn’t have fuel or the documents to follow. Trafalgar III is docking next door at the Coast Guard facility as we speak, and we can’t get in there to interview anybody.”

  “So we’re completely shut out?”

  “No more than anybody else. Hang on a minute.” She covered the phone. “Bobby, grab your camera bag and find a spot from where you can shoot the Coast Guard docks. Shimmy up somebody’s mast, if you have to!”

  “Hazel, we’re going to try to get photographs of the yacht and anybody aboard it that we can see. I’ll call you back.” She hung up.

  “For Christ’s sake, Bobby, hurry!”

  —

  Half an hour later, the Lees’ luggage was taken off the yacht, and the other passengers walked them ashore and to their waiting car to say their goodbyes, while the crew peeled the borrowed name off the stern and replaced the White Ensign with an American yacht ensign.

  “It was absolutely wonderful, Stone, every minute of it,” Kate said, hugging him. They got into their car and were driven away, and the other passengers returned to the yacht for dinner.

  —

  Bobby Marks came, panting, back aboard Ciao. “I got them, Gloria,” he said, grinning. “All of them, and with my long lens it looks like we’re standing next to them. The light was good, too, from the docks’ flood lamps, and the yacht’s real name is Breeze.”

  Gloria got on the phone to Hazel. “Sweetheart,” she said, “check your e-mail—we got more of the story than anybody, and I’m rewriting the rest!”

  —

  The Gulfstream jet set down smoothly at Warm Springs and taxied to the ramp, where a three-car motorcade awaited them. There was no press or media present, since they had not been informed.

  The motorcade proceeded quietly through the warm Georgia night to the Lee farm, where they were greeted by Aunt Beatrice. “Billy’s sound asleep in his room,” she said. “Why don’t you look in on him?”

  Kate and Will tiptoed into Will’s childhood room, now Billy’s, and regarded the sleeping child with parental affection.

  The following day, with press and media present, the Lee family boarded the Gulfstream and flew back to Andrews Air Force Base, near Washington, from where they were choppered back to the White House.

  The daily White House press briefing that morning was bedlam.

  50

  The following morning after their cruise, Stone and his party took off from Key West International, and he dropped Holly and the Rules at Manassas two hours later. Holly gave Stone a big kiss. “I’ll see you New Year’s Eve,” she said, “if the world can keep it together until then.” After a pause to take on additional fuel, Stone took off and flew to Teterboro, where Fred and Bob awaited him and the Bacchettis in the Bentley. He dropped Dino and Viv off at home, then continued to his own.

  —

  Joan greeted him in the office. “Thank you so much for the beautiful cashmere sweater, and the staff thanks you for their gifts and their bonuses.”

  “You’re all very welcome,” Stone said. He regarded the dog. “Has Bob gained weight?”

  “Ah, um . . . Well, it was Christmas, wasn’t it? He got an extra cookie or two.”

  “You’re a complete patsy,” Stone replied.

  “Where that dog is concerned, you’re absolutely right,” Joan said. “Did you see the President on TV in Havana?”

  “Joan, I was there. The ceremony took place aboard Breeze.”

  “Oh, I had no idea!”

  “Neither did I, and I hope no one else catches on. I don’t want another deluge of press calls. We woke up that morning on the way to Cuba. I didn’t know where I was until I saw Morro Castle.”

  “That must have been some meeting!”

  “A good time was had by all. We were back in Key West in time for dinner.”

  —

  Gloria got in later that day. A message was on her phone from Alphonse Teppi, and she called him back.

  “Listen, sweetheart,” Al said, “I was on Barrington like a clam, but Danny lost him that same day and we never found him again.”

  “I found him,” Gloria replied.

  “Oh? Where?”

  “About sixty miles west of Key West.”

  “Florida?”

  “There’s only one.”

  “I read the President was down there somewhere, too.”

  “They were on the same yacht, which left us in the dust, so to speak, then went to Cuba. We managed to photograph them when they were back in Key West.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Exactly.”

  “Danny wants to know if you want him to kill Barrington.”

  “Yeah, sure, tell him to get right on it.” The only worse numskull than Al, she reflected, was Danny. She hung up and called Hazel.

  “You’re back!”

  “I am. How did you like the shots in Key West?”

  “They were perfect, and we’re the only ones who have them. When we publish tomorrow, the Times and the networks will be extremely jealous. I especially liked the shots of them ripping off the name and exposing the real one.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Gloria said. “Bobby risked his neck to get those shots from the top of a utility pole!” She hung up, and the phone rang immediately.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Benton. Welcome home.”

  “Hey, baby.”

  “Chinese at your place tonight?”

  “I’d rather go out to dinner,” she said. “Someplace splashy, where everybody will see us together.”

  He laughed. “All right, why not? You’re on. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

  “See you then, babe.” She hung up, gratified.

  —

  Dino called.

  “Yeah?”

  “Patroon, seven-thirty? Just you and me, Viv’s flown the coop again.”

  “You betcha. See ya then.” Stone hung up.

  —

  Stone and Dino were still on their first drink at Patroon when Benton Blake and Gloria Parsons walked in together. They didn’t see Stone across the room until they had sat down.

  Stone raised a glass to them, then sent them a bottle of Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame. They looked pleased.

  A moment later, a waiter brought over a magazine on a silver tray. “It’s Just Folks,” Stone said, examining the cover. “Tomorrow’s edition.” He was astonished that it was a beautiful photograph of Breeze, probably taken last summer.

  “Nice shot of the yacht,” Dino remarked.

  “Yes, it is,” Stone replied, “but why?” He looked at a Post-it stuck to the cover. See pages 16–20. G.

  He opened the magazine to find a double-page spread of a photograph of Kate and Will’s departure from the yacht. It had been taken from a height and was very clear.

  “Looks like she had a drone,” Dino said.

  Stone flipped through the piece, which ended with a shot of him and Holly jumping from the yacht the first morning, with suitably blanked-out parts. “Looks like we were under surveillance the whole time,” Stone said.

  “But not in Cuba—no shots from there.”

  “No, no shots from there. They got one of the yacht’s name being changed, though.” It was written under the pseudonym Laurentia Scott-Peebles. He scanned the piece quickly. She seemed to know everything they had done on their cruise, including the voyage to Cuba. She had to have been aboard the smaller yacht Ciao, but it almost sounded as if she’d been aboard Breeze.

  “Well,” Dino said, “you got away with it until tomorrow.”

  51

  Alphonse Teppi and Danny Blaine took a table at a place on the West Side, near Danny’s office. Shortly, a friend o
f Danny’s joined them.

  “Al,” Danny said, “this is Crank Jackson. We went to graduate school together.”

  “Oh?” Al asked. “Where?”

  “Fishkill.”

  Crank Jackson was short, with a shaved head, but he managed to be imposing. Al spotted part of a prison-style tattoo on his neck, under his shirt collar. “What did you guys study?” Al asked, smirking.

  “I majored in science—breaking limbs,” Crank replied, returning the smirk. “Danny studied the fine arts—pickpocketing.”

  “I got pretty good at it, too.”

  “Where’s the can?” Crank asked.

  “Over there, behind the cash register,” Al replied, and watched Crank pick his way through the tables with considerable grace of movement.

  “Crank is your general all-round criminal,” Danny said, “he just specializes in leg-breaking—he used to work for a shylock who didn’t like people who missed payments.”

  “Yeah? What’s he doing these days?”

  “Whatever he’s asked to do—you name it. For five grand, his standard fee, Crank will remove a person’s head from his torso, or anything else you’d like done.”

  “Well, then,” Al said, “Crank could come in very useful.”

  “How so?”

  “I spoke to Gloria, she’s back from her trip, and she’s still mad at Barrington. She’d like him to have a serious accident—fatal.”

  “Great!” Danny replied with enthusiasm. “I’m so sick of following the guy I’d be glad to see him go.”

  “Up to you how, pal,” Al said.

  “You think she means it?”

  “Yes, and sooner rather than later.”

  They saw Crank returning from the men’s room.

  “The means are at hand,” Danny said, “and we don’t have to get our hands dirty.”

  Crank fell back into his chair. “What are you guys looking so smug about?”

  “We were just talking about you, Crank,” Danny said. “And what you do so well.”

  Crank grinned. “Lay it on me.”

  —

  Joan came into Stone’s office the following morning. “It seems you have won the favor of the media again,” she said.

  “Oh, no.”

  “I have five requests for a TV interview—including Charlie Rose and the Today show. I told the other three, politely, to get lost.”

  “Well, you can tell the Today show, politely, and Charlie, very politely, that my lips are sealed on the subject of the cruise, and I do not confirm nor deny anything, including whether I have an interest in Breeze, which is owned by a Delaware corporation, if they try to trace her.”

  “Gotcha, boss. Same with the print people?”

  “Nothing to say, and I decline to say it.”

  “It only makes you more interesting to them, you know.”

  “Remember what happened when you advised me to talk to one of them, and the others would go away?”

  “I seem to recall that,” she replied. “It didn’t end well, did it?”

  “Well, it finally seems to have been straightened out, or at least it seemed so until that came out.” He pointed at the copy of Just Folks on his desk.

  “I’ve already read it,” Joan said. “Oops, your phone.” She picked up the one on his desk. “The Barrington Group at Woodman & Weld,” she said, then listened and covered the phone. “Will you speak to the President of the United States?” she asked archly.

  Stone took the phone from her. “This is Stone Barrington.”

  “Just one moment, Mr. Barrington,” the operator said.

  There was a click, then: “Good morning, Stone,” Kate Lee said.

  He was relieved that she sounded cheerful.

  “Well, I guess we couldn’t keep it a secret forever, but at least we weren’t found out until it was over.”

  “I’ve no idea how they caught on,” Stone said.

  “I do. Word got around Key West that some British dignitary was aboard—maybe the prime minister or a rock star. I don’t think they knew I was there until I was back in Georgia for the night.”

  “How’s Billy?”

  “He loved seeing his pony. He wants me to build a stable on the White House lawn.”

  “The Republicans in Congress would just love that.”

  “Wouldn’t they? I just wanted you to know that, with your help, we accomplished our purpose, and I’m not in the least sorry that they found us out when it was over.”

  “Thank you, Kate.”

  She wished him a happy new year and hung up.

  Joan Buzzed him. “The secretary of state on line one.”

  He picked up. “Good morning.”

  “Same to you. I’m getting into a chopper now, I’ll be there in time for lunch.”

  “Want me to meet you at the heliport?”

  “Nope. The State Department doesn’t regard you as having any security benefit attached. The guys with the guns will deposit me on your doorstep, then flee.”

  “See you then.” Stone hung up and buzzed Joan.

  “Yessir?”

  “Ask Helene to whip up something for lunch for Holly and me.”

  “Sure thing.”

  —

  Danny Blaine and Crank Jackson were riding uptown in an Uber. They got out on Stone’s corner. “Tell me, Crank,” Danny said, “where’d you get your nickname?”

  “From a prison guard,” Crank replied. “He liked my action when I broke a guy’s neck in the yard, once.”

  “Ah. Okay, we’re going to walk quickly down the south side of the street. When I tell you to, take a good look at the house on your left, the one with the garage door, but don’t slow down. We don’t want to be noticed by anyone inside.”

  “Gotcha,” Crank replied.

  They walked down the block, and Crank swiveled his head left for a long moment. “Got it,” he said.

  “The guy works at home but goes out for lunch occasionally, sometimes in a Bentley that looks armored, so it’s no good shooting him through a window. Sometimes he walks to a restaurant though.”

  “I need a motorcycle,” Crank said.

  “Steal one.”

  “Can do. I need a .22 with a silencer. We don’t want to have the whole neighborhood calling nine-one-one at the same time.”

  “It’s a straight five grand, Crank.” Danny handed him an envelope. “Here’s a grand, the rest on delivery. Anything you need comes out of your end.”

  “Fair enough.”

  52

  Crank visited a pawnshop on the Lower East Side and selected a .22 semiautomatic pistol and a nicely crafted silencer from the owner’s private stock in the cellar. He was allowed to test fire it once for noise. It made a plip sound. “Very nice,” he replied, and negotiated the price from a thousand down to seven hundred.

  “I’ll buy it back for two hundred when you’re done,” his supplier said. “I can change the ballistics.”

  “I need a set of bolt cutters, too,” Crank said.

  “The hardware store is three doors down, on your right.”

  Crank stuffed the pistol into the inside pocket of his parka and the silencer in another, then visited the hardware store and bought a short-handled bolt cutter and a screwdriver.

  The motorcycle theft took a little longer: he wanted something on the light side, but with enough power to speed through traffic, and conventionally muffled. No Harley noise for this job. He found a nice little Honda, conveniently stuffed between two parked cars, which hid his actions. He removed the license plate and exchanged it for one on another cycle down the block, then he went back to the Honda, cut the chain anchoring it to a street sign, and did a little magic to get it started. The helmet on board was, not surprisingly, too small, so he put up the hood on his parka. Shortly, he was
on his way uptown for a little more reconnoitering.

  He pulled up a few doors up the street from the Barrington house and watched as a heavy-duty SUV, followed by another, stopped and disgorged a woman and a couple of suitcases. She went to a door bearing a brass plate, rang a bell, and was met by another woman, who held the door while she and her luggage were put inside.

  The woman who opened the door saw him up the street and took a good long look at him before closing the door behind her.

  Crank didn’t like that; it made him feel amateurish. He decided not to attract further attention by roaring away. Instead, he took a New York Post from his parka pocket and pretended to read it. A couple of minutes later, the suspicious woman opened the door again and looked up and down the block. This time she glared at him before going inside again.

  Crank put away his paper, started the bike, and motored gently away. He caught her in his rearview mirror as she came outside again, this time holding a hand slightly behind her. The bitch was carrying! He’d have to watch out for her.

  —

  I heard from Kate this morning,” Stone said to Holly, after he had poured them a drink and sat her down.

  “How did she sound?”

  “Cheerful. I was afraid she’d be annoyed that we made the papers.”

  “Annoyed? What would she have to be annoyed about? We got away clean.”

  “Well, after the fact, anyway.”

  “Do you know what would have happened if the media had got wind of our little cruise? We’d have had a flotilla of boats, bristling with all sorts of cameras, sailing just as close to us as the Coast Guard and the Navy would have allowed. That would have annoyed her.”

  “And you, too,” Stone said, laughing. “As it was, you got photographed naked. It’s lucky I have an interest in that magazine.”

  “I remind you, you were also naked at the time, and I wouldn’t be too surprised if that photograph didn’t get pirated out to other, less scrupulous publications that you don’t own.”

  “You mean . . .”