Stuart Woods - Dirty Work

"Oh," she said. She took a big bite of eggs with a little kipper. "Had any overnight reports?"

Mason paused for a moment, then assumed a more somber mien. "Tinker is dead," he said, "and Thatcher is in hospital, a couple of blocks from here, at Lenox Hill."

Carpenter swallowed hard and put down her fork. "She got both of them?"

"Well, she got Tinker. She didn't quite get Thatcher, if you see what I mean. He's still alive."

"How did she do it?"

"Ice pick, apparently. You can still buy them at ironmongers' here. Did you know that?"

"I did not." She thanked God that her firm did not require that she write letters to the families of those killed on duty. "So La Biche went back to the Harvey flat after all?"

"It would seem so." Mason sat down and began to eat. "Funny thing," he said. "I'm ravenous, in spite of the news."

"It's a psychological thing," she said. "Relief to be alive when others are dead instills a feeling of well-being, increasing the appetite. It's why people bring food to the families of the deceased. I feel a little hungry, myself." She began eating again.

"You're out of the Lowell," Mason said. "Where do you want your things sent?"

She gave him Stone's address.

"Think that's a good idea?"

"I haven't got a better one at the moment. How am I getting out of here?"

"We've got hold of a fishmonger's van. It will pull into the garage downstairs in…" He consulted his wristwatch. "… fifty minutes. The fish will come out, and you'll go in, and the van will proceed to the Waldorf, where you and more fish will be delivered. You'll change to a taxi there, to go… wherever you want to go."

"All right," she said.

"I hope you don't mind the smell of fish."

"I can stand it as far as the Waldorf. Has anybody talked to Thatcher?"

"Oh, yes. He remembers very little, just the pain. He never saw her coming. Are we going to tell our policemen friends about the Harvey woman?"

"I have already done so," Carpenter replied. "Lieutenant Bacchetti's people will swarm over her flat at mid-morning."

"They're going to find fuck-all," Mason said, stabbing at a sausage.

"I've already told Dino that, but they have to go through the motions. I wouldn't be shocked if they found signs of Tinker and Thatcher's being there. They were obviously not up to this one."

"I wouldn't be too hard on them," Mason said. "This woman is quite… extraordinary. What were your impressions of her when you met her at Clarke's?"

"I'll tell you, if you won't tell anybody else."

"All right."

"She was good – so good that I didn't twig until she invited me for coffee somewhere else, which would have been the Harvey flat, I think. I wasn't actually sure until she got into a cab and followed me here."

"Then she is very good, indeed."

"She was so ordinary."

"That's what's extraordinary about her, I suppose," Mason observed. "Someone who can hunt people down as coldly as that, while seeming so ordinary. You think she has an organization here?"

"I'd bet she has a name or two to ring up if she needs something, or if things go sour," Carpenter said. "She's too good not to have some sort of backup. Did we flag the Harvey passport?"

Mason stopped eating. "I'm not sure," he said, sounding guilty.

"That means you didn't do it."

"Well…"

"Do it now."

Mason got up and went to the phone, but it rang before he reached it. He listened for a moment, then held out the phone to Carpenter. "It's for you." He rolled his eyes upward, as if to God.

Carpenter got up and went to the phone. "Yes?"

"It's Architect." Her boss, in London.

"Yes, sir?"

"A flight landed at Heathrow this morning with one Virginia Harvey listed on the manifest. "I believe she's called Ginger?"

"Yes, sir."

"She got onto the airplane, but she didn't get off – at least, she didn't make it to immigration. Her body was found in a ladies' room off the corridor leading from the gate to baggage claim. Her passport was in her handbag, but the photographs didn't match the corpse."

"They wouldn't, since they were of a different woman."

"Of course, but you're missing the point."

Carpenter sucked in a breath. "I think I just got it," she said.

"We're tracking two other single women who were on the flight," Architect said. "Both cleared customs and immigration. One has turned up at her London hotel, the other hasn't been found."

"That makes sense."

"So it seems we've taken her off your hands, for the present, at least."

"It would seem so. I'll be on the next flight."

"I think you're better off in New York at the moment. You and Mason take a few days. I'm sorry about Tinker. I take it Thatcher will be all right in a few days."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll be in touch if there's news." He hung up.

Carpenter replaced the phone in its cradle.

"What?" Mason asked.

"La Biche apparently went from killing Tinker and wounding Thatcher straight to Kennedy Airport, took a flight to London, and after leaving it but before reaching baggage claim, murdered another woman, took her purse, and left Ginger Harvey's in its place. She's loose in London."

"Mmmm," Mason said. "I suppose I should have flagged the Harvey passport last night."

"She thought we wouldn't move that fast," Carpenter said. "And she was right."

Stone, Dino, Bob Cantor, and Herbie Fisher got off the airplane at Kennedy. Dino flashed his badge at customs, and the moment they were through, Stone felt a handcuff close on his wrist. He looked at it and found Herbie on the other end.

"I'm not taking any chances," Dino said.

"I have to go to the john," Herbie said.

"There's one," Dino said, pointing. "You two guys have a nice time."

"Come on, Dino," Stone said. "Unlock them."

"I'm not taking them off," Dino said, "unless I cuff both Herbie's hands behind him, then you can help him in the john. That okay?"

Stone went into the men's room with Herbie and waited impatiently while he used the urinal, then they found Dino's car waiting for them outside and got in. Stone got out his cell phone. Dino got out his own.

Dino dialed. "Gimme the deputy DA's office," he said.

Stone dialed. "Tony," he said, "are you in court? In ten minutes? I've got Herbie, but we're twenty minutes, half an hour out. Can you stall Judge Kaplan? Do your best. Tell her the subway broke down." Stone hung up.

"George?" Dino said, "Dino Bacchetti… Yeah, you too. Listen, I'm going to save you some time: One of your people is dealing with a Herbert Fisher, charged with manslaughter in the Larry Fortescue case… Right, his appearance is in about ten minutes. Thing is, I've been reliably informed that Fisher's fall through the skylight didn't cause Fortescue's death… No, he was poisoned, and by a pro, so he was already dead when Fisher hit him… No, I'm not kidding you, I've had a look at the autopsy report… From an intelligence source. This thing is real cloak-and-dagger. Also, these people tell me that Fisher actually did them some good, because he took a photograph of the woman who killed Fortescue… Come on, George, could I make this up?… What do I want? George, manslaughter sure isn't going to stick, and, given the help Fisher was to these people, I'd kick the other charges, if I were you. I think it's better if this just goes away… My interest in this? My interest is keeping egg off my face, and that oughta be your interest, too… Okay, kiddo. Talk to you later."

Dino hung up and turned to Stone, who was occupying the backseat with Herbie. "George is going to talk to the ADA on the case. He's on his way to the courtroom now."

"You mean this is all going to go away?" Herbie asked.

"Shut up, Herbie," Dino said. "You're not out of the woods yet. We've still got to get you to court before Kaplan realizes you're not there."