Stuart Woods - Swimming To Catalina

Free to work undisturbed, he found the engine room and switched on the lights. There were two large gasoline engines, and he inspected them carefully; they were cooled with raw sea water, as he had hoped. He found a screwdriver and loosened the clips that held the water hoses onto the seacocks, then he pulled the hoses free. He looked around for another opportunity but saw none, so he opened both seacocks and watched the sea water gush onto the engine room floor, then he went forward and did the same for the seacock at the ship’s toilet. Satisfied, he went back on deck, looked around for traffic, then padded back to his car. By dawn, he figured,Maria would be resting comfortably on the bottom.

He drove back to the Bel-Air Hotel and, avoiding the front parking lot, drove through a rear gate and parked as close as he could to his suite. Once there, he showered, changed clothes, threw away the jeans and sweatshirt, then packed and carried his cases to the car. As he drove away, the sun was rising. He went back to Le Parc, where he was still paying for a suite, drove into the garage, and carried his cases up the rear stairs to his suite. Then he got into bed and fell immediately asleep.

He woke at eleven, then called Rick Grant and made a lunch date.

Lunch was a hot dog on the Santa Monica Pier.

“How’s it going?” Grant asked.

“I’ll tell you, but I want it understood that I’m not reporting a crime; this is strictly off the books.”

“Agreed,” Grant replied.

“Yesterday, Onofrio Ippolito, called me at the Bel-Air and invited me to a dinner party aboard his yacht, anchored off Catalina. I went to Marina Del Rey for my ferry ride, which was conducted in a fast sports fisherman by Vincent Mancuso and a friend of his called Manny. When we were almost there, one of them pulled a gun, then they bound me hand and foot, attached a chain and an anchor to me, and kicked me overboard. Just before they did that, one of them said, ‘Compliments of Onofrio Ippolito.’”

Grant looked at him oddly. “And why are you still here?”

“I got very lucky, shed the anchor, and made it to a moored sailboat. Some very nice people brought me back to the mainland.”

“And you’re not reporting the crime? You don’t want me to arrest Ippolito and his boys for attempted murder?”

“No. Not yet, anyway. You could nail the two hoods, but I don’t think you could make the case against Ippolito on the basis of the phone call, and Vinnie and Manny sure aren’t going to implicate him.”

“Probably not. What do you want to do?”

“Well, I’ve made a start; I sank their boat,Maria, very early this morning. She’s right in the middle of Marina Del Rey; they’ll have a hell of a time getting her up, and it will be very expensive.”

Grant burst out laughing. “You’re tight, that’s a start. What next?”

“I told you I thought there was a bookie operation running out of Vinnie’s Deli. Can you have it raided?”

“I’d need probable cause for a warrant.”

“How about a tip from a snitch?”

“Who?”

“Me. You can even put my name on it, if you have to.”

“I think I can arrange a raid.”

“Good; I hope your guys won’t be too careful with the fixtures and fittings.”

“I’ll mention that. What else?”

“This guy, Martin Barone? I’d like to know everything there is to know about him and Barone Financial Services.”

“Okay.”

“Do you know somebody at the FBI that you can trust?”

Grant thought about that for a minute. “What part of the FBI?”

“Them that deal with financial institutions.”

“Yeah, I know a guy.”

“I’d like to meet him.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Tell him there might be a kidnapping involved; those guys love a kidnapping.”

“Okay. Where can I find you?”

“I’m back at Le Parc. I figure they won’t be looking for me there.”

“No, but they might send a cleanup crew.”

“Jesus, I hadn’t thought of that; I’d better get out of there fast.”

“You need a place? I live about three blocks from here; my kid’s in college, you can have his room.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather stick with hotels; I’ll let you know where I am.” Stone pulled out his cell phone and switched it on; it lit up, as usual. “Son of a bitch, it still works. I’ll have to write Motorola a nice letter.”

“I can check with you on that number?”

“Yep.”

“Anything else?”

“Rick, can you get hold of a handgun for me?”

“Something untraceable, I suppose.”

“I’d rather not fill out any federal forms.”

“Stone, are you planning to shoot somebody?”

“Not at the moment, but you never know.”

Stone got himself out of Le Parc as fast as he could, first calling the Beverly Hills Hotel for a reservation. He might as well be comfortable, he thought, and hide in plain sight. He checked into a small suite and rang for the valet.

“Yes, sir?” the man said when Stone opened the door.

Stone held up his sodden suit, which he had hung on a hanger, and his shoes, into which he had inserted trees. “Do you think you can do anything with these?”

The man gingerly lifted a sleeve and sniffed it. “Salt water?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Stone said. “A boating accident.”

“I’ll have to soak it in fresh water first, to get out the salt, and then press it several times as it dries.”

“Can I hope for the best?” Stone asked.

“You can always hope, sir, but I won’t make any rash promises.”

“Do the best you can,” Stone said, slipping the man fifty.

“I most certainly will, sir.”

The man disappeared, and Stone closed the door. He got some more sleep, and late in the afternoon took a call from Rick Grant.

“I got the meet set up with my FBI guy, but it’s going to cost you an expensive dinner.”

“Fine; where?”

“Place called Michael’s, in Santa Monica, seven o’clock.” He gave Stone the address and directions.

Refreshed and rested, Stone was at Michael’s on time; Rick and another man were waiting for him at a table in a lovely garden.

“Stone, this is Hank Cable,” Grant said.

Stone shook hands with the FBI agent.

“We’ve met before,” the man said.

“Where?” Stone asked, puzzled.

“We had a meeting about the Sasha Nijinsky case, a few years ago, in New York. I was stationed there then.”

“Now I remember.”

“You were doing everything you could to keep us out of the case, as I recall.”

“I believe I was,” Stone agreed.

“I didn’t particularly hold it against you; it’s what we expected from the locals.”

“I’m glad. What have they got you doing out here?”

“I run the financial investigations division.”

“Just the man I want to talk to,” Stone said, smiling.

“Let’s order,” Grant said.

They ordered drinks, perused the menu and ordered dinner, then got down to business.

“So, what do you want from us?” Cable asked.

“It’s more what I’m going to give you,” Stone replied.

“How much is it going to cost me?”

“It’s a freebie; I don’t want any glory, just to see justice done.”

Cable hooted with laughter.

Grant stepped in. “Hank, I think it might react to your benefit if you listened.”

“Okay, okay, shoot, Stone.”

Stone turned to Grant. “Rick, did you get anything on Barone Financial Services?”

“It’s registered with all the right state and federal agencies, but it’s some kind of bucket shop. Headquarters is a rundown office building on La Cienega; they’ve got the top floor, the sixth, about two thousand square feet of space.”