Stuart Woods - Lucid Intervals

Freeman’s shoulders sagged. “Can Felicity hear us on the intercom?” he asked.

“No, she’s not wearing a headset,” Stone replied, “and she’s asleep.”

Freeman sighed. “I thought that, with Jim’s death, I’d be safe. I should have known that someone would figure it out. I’m sorry it was you, Stone.”

“So you arranged Jim’s death?”

Freeman turned to face him. “I most certainly did not! My, God, I loved the man!”

Stone shrugged. “I had to ask.”

“Does Felicity believe that Jim was Whitestone?”

“Pretty much,” Stone said.

“Are you under some ethical obligation to tell her the truth?”

“I’m no longer employed by her service,” Stone said. “She paid me off and fired me the day before yesterday.”

“I think it might be best for everyone if she continued to believe what she believes,” Freeman said.

Stone thought about that for a few minutes as they moved through the night at 400 miles an hour. Finally, he spoke. “I concur,” he said.

They flew along for another ten minutes without talking. Stone wondered if Freeman had fallen asleep, but then he stirred.

“Since we don’t know what’s waiting for us in New York,” Freeman said, “I think we have to get Felicity back to London, and quietly.”

Stone thought about it. “Once again, I concur. How are we going to get her home quietly?”

“Leave that to me,” Freeman said. “I think it would be best if you accompanied her.”

“I can do that,” Stone said.

“Have her ready to go tomorrow night. You’ll be picked up at nine at the Plaza. Someone will call your suite and ask if the package is ready for pickup. You reply, ‘Not until tomorrow at noon.’ He’ll give you instructions.”

Eighty miles out of Teterboro, Stone tuned in the ATIS and jotted down the information. He loaded the Instrument Landing System for runway 19, and as soon as he was handed off from Boston Center to New York Approach and got his first vector, he activated the approach. He got graduated instructions to descend to 3,000 feet and was cleared for the approach. His was the only airplane on the air at that time of night.

The Mustang’s autopilot flew the airplane down the ILS, and Stone made one of his better landings. Shortly, they were in a Mercedes headed for Manhattan and the Plaza.

Stone woke a little after nine and ordered breakfast sent to the suite’s living room, leaving Felicity to sleep. He showered, shaved and dressed, then went downstairs and got a taxi.

He was dropped off in the block behind his house and entered the Turtle Bay Gardens through the rear entrance, then walked to his own back door and let himself into the kitchen. Helene was surprised to see him. “I think Miss Joan has someone waiting to see you,” she said.

Stone grabbed a mug of coffee and went into his office. Joan buzzed him immediately. She always seemed to know when he was there. He pressed the button.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“There’s a Mr. Smith to see you,” she said.

“Send him in.” Stone wondered what Captain Scott Smith was doing in New York.

“I’m going to the bank,” Joan said. “Be back in a few minutes.”

Stone was about to reply when his office door opened, and to his surprise, the little gray man from Felicity’s office walked into the room, closed the door behind him and leaned on it. “Oh, you’re that Mr. Smith,” Stone said.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Where is who?” Stone asked back.

“Dame Felicity. Where is she?”

“She checked out of here the day before yesterday,” Stone replied, “and she didn’t leave a forwarding address. I assumed she’d gone back to London.”

Smith unbuttoned his jacket and introduced a Walther.380 to the conversation. It was equipped with a silencer. “I’ll ask you just once more,” Smith said quietly, “and if I don’t get a satisfactory answer I will shoot you in the head.”

Stone rather believed him. “I will give you the only answer I have,” he said, “and hope it will be satisfactory. She is back in London at her office, her home or her country house.”

“That is entirely unsatisfactory,” Smith said, raising the pistol and pointing it at Stone’s head.

“Would you like to have a look upstairs?” Stone asked. “I suppose she could be hiding in a guest room.”

“Never mind,” Smith said, and thumbed back the hammer on the pistol.

As he did, Stone heard the doorknob turn, and the door struck Smith hard in the back, knocking Smith to his knees. Herbie Fisher walked into the office, rubbing a shoulder, and held Joan’s.45 to Smith’s head, while he relieved the man of his pistol. “Joan wasn’t at her desk,” he said, “and you left your intercom on, so I heard what this guy had to say to you. Do you want me to shoot him?”

“Not yet, Herbie,” Stone said. “Before you do, I’d like to ask him some questions. Mr. Smith?”

“May I get up, please?” Smith asked.

“You may not,” Stone replied. “I like you on your knees. Now, why have you come here looking for your boss with a gun?”

“She is no longer my boss,” Smith replied. “She has been sacked by the foreign minister.”

“Which foreign minister is that?” Stone asked.

“The British foreign minister, you twit!” Smith said.

“Name?”

“Palmer!”

“You don’t watch TV or read the papers, do you, Smith?”

“Sometimes.”

“Well, when you get out of jail, you might read up on what’s been happening at home,” Stone said. “Herbie, do you think you can render Mr. Smith unconscious without fracturing his skull?”

“Sure,” Herbie said, and he swung the barrel of the.45 at the back of Smith’s neck. Smith collapsed in a heap.

“Thank you, Herbie,” Stone said.

“Any time, Stone. Who the fuck is this guy?”

“I’ve no idea,” Stone said. “See if he has a wallet or a passport.” Herbie went through Smith’s pockets, came up with both and handed them to Stone, who put them in a desk drawer. Then Stone picked up a phone and called Dino.

“Bacchetti,” Dino said.

“Morning, Dino. A strange man just walked into my office with a silenced pistol and threatened my life.”

“Okay, what’s the punch line?”

“No joke. Fortunately, Herbie Fisher happened in and made him go to sleep. Do you think you could haul him away and let him stew in your very excellent drunk tank for two or three days?”

“I don’t see why not,” Dino replied. “I’ll be right over.” He hung up.

Stone hung up, too. “Herbie, did I mention how very glad I am to see you?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I am very glad to see you. That little man was about to put a round in my head.”

“I’d better put Joan’s.45 back in her drawer; she’s fussy about it.” Herbie walked down the hall toward Joan’s office, then returned.

Stone’s phone rang, and since Joan was out of the office, he answered it. “Stone Barrington.”

“Mr. Barrington?” a woman’s voice said. “I was expecting Joan.”

“She’s out at the moment.”

“I have Mr. Bianchi for you.” There was a click on the line.

“Hello, Stone?” Eduardo said.

“Yes, Eduardo. How are you?”

“I am greatly relieved,” Eduardo replied. “Yesterday, Dolce landed in Palermo and was recognized by some acquaintances of mine who happened to be at the airport.”

“Happened to be at the airport?”

“At my request,” Eduardo replied. “In any case, she is now sequestered in a safe and comfortable place, and is no longer a threat to you or anyone else.”

“I’m very happy to hear that, Eduardo,” Stone said.