Стюарт Вудс - Indecent Exposure

“I know that. I was just trying to frighten you with my influence.”

“At some point,” he said, “we’re going to have to talk about what happens to us when you run, and even worse, after you’re elected.”

“Let’s jump off that bridge when we come to it,” she said.

“All right. Would you like to hear about our plans for the evening?”

“You don’t want to surprise me?”

“You hate surprises.”

“That’s true. All right, tell me about it.”

“We’re going to see Michael Feinstein’s holiday show, the eight-o’clock performance, at Studio 54, then we’re going to Dino and Viv’s New Year’s Eve party in plenty of time for midnight.”

“That all sounds perfectly delightful — you should have surprised me.”

“I miss Bobby Short at the Café Carlyle, but he up and died on me. He and Elaine.”

“Everybody does that — it’s catching.”

“Still, Michael Feinstein is a worthy successor, and I have a shot at outliving him.”

“Speaking of living, what sort of shape are you in?”

“You have to ask?”

“Not that — heart, lungs, liver, especially liver.”

“I had my FAA physical a while back. The doctor said everything was, and I quote, ‘perfectly normal.’”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“What about you? Will you live into a second term?”

“Well, I saw my gynecologist last week — did you know we have a staff gynecologist at the White House now?”

“I did not know that. I expect it was Kate’s idea.”

“It was my idea, actually, but Kate bought it. After all, we have a lot of women on the White House staff.”

“And what did he have to say?”

“ She said I’m not getting enough sex, but apart from that, I’m startlingly healthy.”

“I’ll do everything I can to help.”

“You’re doing just fine,” she said. “If you were living in Washington, I’d have a hard time getting up in the mornings.”

“That’s the nicest thing anybody’s said to me in this millennium,” Stone replied.

“And the truest,” she replied. “You can let it go to your head, if you want to.”

Crank Jackson parked between two cars around the corner and made a couple of passes up and down the block. This time he turned his reversible parka inside out and put a folding tweed hat on his bald head.

Joan saw him pass outside her window, but she fell for the disguise and did not connect him with the previous thug. She did notice when he returned up the block, but then he disappeared around the corner.

Crank returned to his motorcycle and found a parking ticket taped to the handlebars. He stuffed it into a pocket. The switched license plates would put the wrong bike in the wrong place, if it ever came to that. He would switch plates again later, if he had the opportunity.

He checked his watch: seven o’clock, too early for Barrington to be going out on the town on New Year’s Eve. He got back on the motorcycle and looked for a place to have a quick bite; he’d be back on station by seven-thirty.

Stone tied his bow tie in one sweeping, nonstop motion. Perfect. He’d seen Cary Grant do that in a movie once, and he practiced it for years before he finally could do it.

“I saw that,” Holly said from over his shoulder, “and I’m very impressed.”

“Nothing to it; it just comes naturally, I guess.”

She was dressed in his favorite color on her, an emerald-green dress that worked so well with her auburn hair. “Wow,” he said.

“You always say that.”

He shrugged. “You always wow me. The White House press is going to love you.”

“They don’t love anybody for very long.”

“They love Kate.”

“If they did, would she have to pull off an elaborate ruse in order to have an undisturbed vacation?”

“You have a point.”

“And by their attitude, they screwed themselves out of the diplomatic story of the year, which she pulled off without a hitch because they weren’t looking over her shoulder.”

“They sort of shot themselves in the foot, didn’t they?”

“They do that all the time, without seeming to notice.”

“What’s the old saying? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different outcome?”

“That’s sort of the old saying. I can’t remember it exactly but your version will do. Yes, they do that.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Well, dinner is part of the New Year’s thing at the Feinstein show, but we have to eat again at Dino and Viv’s or they’ll be hurt, so go easy on the first dinner.”

“I’ve never gone easy on a dinner in my life,” she said. “I have the kind of metabolism that burns up food faster than I can eat it.”

“Is that why I’ve never noticed your gaining a pound?”

“I’ve never gained a pound,” she explained. “Don’t ever repeat that to a woman, she’ll hate me forever.”

“So the big secret, when you’re in the White House, is...”

“That I eat like a horse and never gain weight. If you ever tell anybody , I’ll have you deported.”

“Speaking of getting deported, how do I get you to my place in England without the country collapsing in your absence?”

“There’s going to be a big confab with European leaders in April, in London. Maybe I can vanish for a few days, like Kate.”

“I’ll have to work on a plan,” Stone said, “with diversions and everything.”

“Run it by me so I can build it into my schedule. It’s not too early to start planning.”

Crank Jackson was a little late getting back to Turtle Bay, and as he turned the corner he saw the green Bentley emerge from the Barrington garage, just in time for him to follow. It surprised him how difficult it was for a motorcycle to follow a car in midtown Manhattan on New Year’s Eve. Traffic kept coming to a halt, blocking the gaps, and he would have to pull over to the curb to wait for a light to change. Very annoying. He would have to transfer the anger into a fund reserved for killing Stone Barrington.

The car eventually made it to West Fifty-fourth Street, near Eighth Avenue, and Barrington and his girlfriend got out of the car and stepped into the crowd rushing the door. No opportunity. Then the car drove away and, to his further annoyance, went back to Turtle Bay and into the garage. The driver was obviously not going to wait outside for Barrington to emerge.

Crank decided his mark was having dinner and seeing a show, so he decided to find a place for dessert and come back in, say, an hour and a half.

The show was terrific: all the music Stone loved best, and Holly enjoyed herself, too. Stone ate a third of his dinner and had his plate taken away before he could weaken, but Holly ate everything. She had apparently not been kidding about her capacity.

Somewhat to his surprise, Stone spotted Alphonse Teppi across the room with a woman. He hadn’t expected that. Teppi saw him, too, and pretended to ignore him.

When he got a chance, Teppi called Danny Blaine.

“Yeah?”

“Where are you?”

“At a W party, downtown.”

“Is your guy on the job tonight?”

“He is.”

“Tell him his target is at Studio 54 and will be until the show is over around ten o’clock.”

“Right.” He hung up.

Danny called Crank.

“Yeah?”

“Where are you?”

“At a restaurant on Second Avenue, having dessert.”

“Good. Your guy is at Studio 54 until around ten.”

“I know, I followed him there and suspected he’d be awhile.”

“Don’t lose him, this needs to be done tonight.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask questions, just earn your money.”