Stuart Woods: Dirty Work

"Convince me you're what you say you are," he said.

Marie-Therese set her plate on the room-service cart and got out of bed. She walked over to where her purse rested on a chair, dug out her little silenced pistol, walked back to the bed, and pointed it at Purdue's head.

Purdue's face froze.

"Oh, relax," she said, "I'm not going to shoot you."

"What kind of gun is that?" he asked, fascinated.

"An assassin's weapon. It was made by your very own CIA," she said.

"And how did you come into possession of it?"

"By means too convoluted to explain."

"If you shot my wife with that, could the gun be connected to other murders?"

"No, it could not. You'll have to trust me on that."

"Well, I'll be damned," he said.

"You think it over," she replied. "I'm going to have a shower." She walked into the bathroom, taking her purse and the pistol with her.

Carpenter closed her phone. "The NYPD has given up on La Biche's returning to the Carlyle suite, so they're going to concentrate on our local headquarters," she said to the meeting, "in the belief that she might watch the place again. They're stationing snipers on the rooftops nearby."

"I don't see what else can be done," the director said. "My people are watching the airports, train and bus stations. We've circulated her description to the car rental agencies, too. What identity was she using at the Carlyle?"

"Mrs. Darlene King, of Dallas, Texas," Carpenter replied. "She's apparently stayed there before under that name."

"I don't suppose she'd be so foolish as to use it again," he said.

"I doubt it. She's abandoned the suite at the Carlyle, and I expect she has abandoned that identity for another."

Mason leaned over. "Look, if you don't need me anymore, I want to go back to the office and pick up some fresh clothes."

"Go ahead, but watch yourself," Carpenter said.

Marie-Therese checked herself out in the mirror. She looked very good in Mrs. Purdue's Armani pantsuit, she thought, and she felt clean and fresh in her underwear, too. She walked back to the bathroom, where Purdue was shaving.

He looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Hey, you can't wear that," he said. "That's my wife's."

"She's not going to be needing it, is she?"

He continued shaving. "Let's drop this little game," he said. "You're no assassin, and my wife is not going anywhere. Now put on your own clothes and get out of here. You're a great fuck, but we're not going to be seeing each other again."

His tone annoyed Marie-Therese, not to mention that he was talking with his back to her.

"Well, Jeff, I was going to do you a favor, but since you take that attitude, I think I'll do your wife one, instead." She took the pistol from her purse and fired once into the back of his head. The soft-nosed bullet splattered his face all over the bathroom mirror.

She hung her dress carefully in the closet, so as to blend in with Mrs. Purdue's things, dropped her dirty underwear in the hamper, and walked out of the suite, closing the door behind her. The guard from the night before was still on duty. "Good morning," she said sweetly.

"Good morning, ma'am," he replied, pushing the elevator button for her.

Another man came down the hall and stood with her, waiting for the elevator. When it arrived, they both got on.

"Good morning," he drawled.

"Good morning," she said, looking at him for the first time. "Well, upon my word, if it isn't Mason!" She laughed aloud.

He squinted at her. "How do you know that name? Have we met?"

"No," she said, "but your reputation precedes you." She fumbled in her handbag, as if she were looking for her lipstick. When her hand was on the pistol, she pressed the emergency stop button on the elevator.

"What are you doing?" Mason demanded, then his face fell as he realized who she was.

"I'm getting off here," she said, withdrawing the pistol from her bag. "You're going all the way down." She shot him twice, then stepped off the elevator, reached back inside, and released the car.

The meeting in the presidential suite was just breaking up, when an FBI agent walked quickly into the room and whispered something in the director's ear.

The director's eyebrows went up. "You cannot be serious," he said.

"I am perfectly serious," the man replied.

The director turned to Carpenter. "Your man, Mason, has just been found dead in the elevator, shot twice."

Carpenter stood up; she wasn't sure why. Before she could say anything, her cell phone rang. Automatically, she answered it. "Yes?"

"It's Stone. Dino and I have just arrived at the Waldorf. We'd like to meet with you and the director."

"Stone, she's in the hotel."

"Who's in the hotel?"

"La Biche. She just shot Mason in the elevator."

"Don't leave the suite, and tell the director not to, as well. I'll call you back." He broke the connection.

"What is it?" Dino asked, as they walked up the steps from the drive-through under the hotel, headed for the Tower elevators.

"Marie-Therese is in the building," Stone replied. "She's just killed Mason in an elevator."

Dino ran back to his car and retrieved a handheld radio. "This is Bacchetti," he said into it. "La Biche is at the Waldorf. Pull everybody off the Brits' offices and get them over here. Call hotel security, too, and get every available patrol car to the hotel. I want every woman alone stopped and ID'ed, then held if there's the slightest suspicion."

Marie-Therese waited impatiently for an elevator to stop, but none did. Then she realized what had happened. She had been on an express elevator to the Towers, one that stopped only because she had pressed the emergency button. The elevator to this floor was not an express, but stopped at any floor that had requested it, and at this hour of the day, it was receiving many requests. She had planned to reach the lobby while there was a commotion over the discovery of Mason's body, before anyone had time to begin searching for his killer, but now her time was running out while she waited for an elevator. And at this moment, the security guard on the Tower floor was giving her description to her hunters. She looked around for an exit, a stairway, and found it. The door was plainly marked, sixteenth floor. If she took the elevator, someone would very likely be waiting at the bottom. How long would it take her to walk down sixteen flights of stairs?

She looked in the other direction and saw an open door, with linens and supplies stacked inside. She ran down the hallway into the closet and closed the door behind her. She found a maid's dress, freshly laundered, on a shelf, and quickly got into it, buttoned it closed over her suit. She rolled up her pant legs, so that they disappeared under the skirt, and she found a maid's cap and put it on. Then she heard a key in the lock, and the door opened.

A maid stood in the hallway beside a cart laden with supplies. Before she could speak, Marie-Therese asked, "Excuse me, where is the service elevator? I'm lost."

"Down there," the woman said, "but you'll need a key." Then she realized that something wasn't right. "What are you doing in here? I don't know you."

Marie-Therese grasped her wrist and yanked her into the closet. She hit her sharply on the back of the neck with the heel of her hand, and the woman collapsed in a heap. Marie-Therese searched her for her keys and found them in a pocket. She left the closet, closing the door behind her, and began pushing the maid's cart toward the service elevator, placing her handbag in the cart's hamper. As she walked, she grabbed a towel and wiped her face vigorously, removing her makeup.

Stone called Carpenter's cell phone again.

"Yes?"

"Dino and I are at the Tower elevators, and hotel security has it roped off. If she comes down in one of the other elevators, we'll stop her."