Stuart Woods - Lucid Intervals

Hackett crossed his legs and stared out the window at the city skyline. “Felicity has been talking, has she?”

“No,” Stone replied, “she hasn’t. She’s said absolutely nothing. This morning I was privy to one side of a transatlantic telephone conversation, and while I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, I was alarmed by her reactions.”

“Can you tell me any more than that?”

“I don’t know anything more than that.”

“All right, then,” Hackett said. “I accept that. I don’t suppose your relationship with Felicity precludes you from offering advice, does it?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then what would you advise me to do?”

“I believe I would advise you to disappear for a while, to go to someplace-Maine, perhaps-no, some place not known to me, so I can’t inadvertently give you away. I think you should abbreviate your communications with this office to the bare minimum or communicate through third parties, and I don’t think you should use a cell phone or any landline known to anyone else. I think you should stay indoors, not in view of the sky, and that you should post armed guards around you.”

Hackett did not respond for a long moment, then, finally, he said, “It’s as bad as that, is it?”

“I hope I’m wrong,” Stone replied, “but I believe it is as bad as that.”

Stone got back to his office and found Herbie Fisher waiting for him. Stone tried not to groan.

“Can I talk to you, Stone?”

“Yes, Herbie. Come on in,” Stone said.

Herbie followed him into the office and closed the door behind him.

“What’s wrong, Herbie?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Herbie replied.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I want you to go to Sheila’s funeral with me,” Herbie said.

“Why, Herbie?”

“Because I don’t want to go by myself. There might be people there who would try to hurt me.”

“I’m not a bodyguard, Herbie, but your uncle Bob can have one or two of the retired cops he knows take care of you.”

Herbie looked away. “I can’t ask Uncle Bob for anything else,” he said. “I’ve asked him for too much over the years, and I’ve promised him that I’ll stand on my own two feet from now on.”

“I see,” Stone said, searching for a way to turn him down.

“I want Dino to come, too.”

Stone brightened. “Tell you what, Herbie, if you can get Dino to come along, I’ll go, too.”

“That’s great, Stone.”

“When is the funeral?”

“In forty-five minutes; we’ve just got time to make it.”

“I don’t think you can corral Dino that quickly, Herbie.”

“He’s outside in my car,” Herbie said.

Stone was now trapped.

“You can charge me for your time,” Herbie said.

Stone sagged. “All right, Herbie.” He stood up and followed Herbie out.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Stone said to Joan.

Dino was, indeed, waiting in Herbie’s Maybach, sipping a Scotch.

Stone got into the back and took a rear-facing seat. “A little early, isn’t it?”

Dino shrugged. “What the hell,” he said.

“Is there any bourbon?” Stone asked Herbie.

Herbie leaned forward and pressed a button. A lid rose, revealing a small bar. “I’ll join you,” he said. “Ice?”

“Please,” Stone replied.

Herbie poured the drinks and sat back.

“Where’s the funeral?” Stone asked.

“At a cemetery in Queens,” Herbie said. “My driver knows the way.”

“So it’s just a burial, not a funeral?”

“What’s the difference?” Herbie asked.

“A funeral usually takes place in a church, a synagogue or a funeral home chapel,” Stone said. “A burial takes place in a cemetery.”

“Oh,” Herbie said. “The only funeral I ever went to was my mother’s, and that was in a cemetery.”

Dino poured himself another drink. “Whatever,” he said.

THE BIG CAR drove through the gates of the cemetery, which turned out to be the one that can be seen from the Long Island Expressway, an incredibly crowded forest of stone.

“How did you get Sheila a plot here?” Stone asked. “I didn’t think there could possibly be any room here.”

“My mother bought it forty years ago,” Herbie said. “Sheila doesn’t have any family, and I didn’t think the plot ought to go to waste.”

The car stopped, and the three of them got out. Herbie led the way, and Stone and Dino followed.

Stone tugged at Dino’s sleeve. “How the hell did Herbie get you to do this?” he asked.

“He paid me,” Dino replied.

“Paid you? How much?”

“That is an indecorous question, under the circumstances,” Dino replied. “A woman is dead.”

“I feel as though I’m in some bizarre dream,” Stone said. “Is this really happening?”

“Seems to be,” Dino replied.

The coffin was perched over the open grave, and a man wearing a black robe stood by it, along with another, shorter man in a black suit. Herbie spoke quietly with the robed man and handed him an envelope.

“Shall we begin?” the robed man asked.

“Just a minute,” Herbie said, looking back toward the road.

Three men in suits were coming their way, looking uncomfortable.

Stone whispered to Dino. “At least one of them is packing,” he said.

“All three of them are,” Dino replied, “but so am I.”

The three men walked around to the other side of the coffin, all three glaring at Herbie.

The robed man began to speak in Hebrew.

Stone and Dino watched the three men, who continued to glare at Herbie. Dino took his badge out and hung it in the breast pocket of his suit. The three men looked even more uncomfortable but stopped glaring.

Stone had a sudden urge to burst out laughing but controlled himself.

The robed man stopped speaking, stepped back and nodded at the other man, who was apparently the funeral director. The shorter man reached down to the frame supporting the coffin and did something, and the coffin began to lower into the grave. Herbie picked up a little dirt from the pile beside the grave and tossed it onto the descending coffin, then the three men did the same.

“God bless you all,” the robed man said, then turned and began walking back toward the road followed by the three men.

Stone, Dino and Herbie gave them a head start, then followed. They got into the Maybach, the robed man tossed his robe into a Toyota and got in, and the three men got into a Cadillac. They all left.

“Who were the three men?” Stone asked.

“The tall guy was her pimp,” Herbie replied. “The other two used to be my bookie and my loan shark.”

“And who was the guy in the robe?”

“He used to be a rabbi,” Herbie said, “but something happened, I’m not sure what. The funeral guy found him. I think Sheila was Jewish.”

“That was thoughtful of you, Herbie,” Stone said. “I thought the three guys were going to start shooting at one point, but Dino stopped them with his badge. Nice move, Dino.”

“It was better than getting shot,” Dino replied.

WHEN STONE GOT home, a small package had been delivered for him. Inside was a small black box and a note from Jim Hackett:

Directions: Go to your master extension-the one that your office phone system is programmed from-unplug your telephone, plug the wire into the box, then plug the wire from the box into the telephone. This will cause all your telephone extensions to be encrypted when you are called from another encrypted phone. Talk to you soon.

Stone did as instructed.