Stuart Woods - Swimming To Catalina

“Nothing like mon justice,” Dino said with satisfaction. “Have you killed this Ippolito yet?”

“I’ve gotten a couple of licks in.” Stone told him about sinking the boat and setting Ippolito’s living room on fire.

Dino’s mouth dropped open. “Stone, have you gone out of your fucking mind? You’re committing crimes! That’s not the sort of thing you would do. It’s the sort of thing I would do. Congratulations, it’s nice to see you pissed off.”

“So, Lieutenant Bacchetti, you approve of my illegal actions?”

“Heartily. Let’s do some more.”

“Maybe; I’ve got something in mind.”

“What?”

“If I get pissed off again, I’ll let you know.”

“So what are you doing about Arrington?”

“Everything I can, which isn’t much. There’s no way to know where they’ve put her, and they could be moving her around.”

“I hope you didn’t tell the fucking FBI about her; they’d get her killed, for sure.”

“No. Rick and I have talked to a guy there who’s wired Barone Financial for sound; he knows somebody was snatched, but he doesn’t know who, and he’s keeping it unofficial.”

“Don’t tell the fuckers anything.”

“There may come a time when we’ll need the feds, you know.”

“I doubt it. You and I can figure this out; we’ve figured out worse.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Who was the broad who was leaving as I arrived?” Dino asked.

“Vance Calder’s secretary. We’ve become…close.”

“Don’t blame you a bit. She got a friend?”

“Dino, it’s one thing for your wife to cut your balls off, it’s quite another for her to cut mine off, and we both know she would do it if she found out I had anything to do with your getting laid out here.”

“You said you wouldn’t stand in my way.”

“I didn’t say I’d pimp for you.”

Dino sighed.

“Look, go have a swim have a massage, get over your jet lag. Lunch with Rick is at twelve-thirty in the outdoor cafe.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Dino said.

Stone and Rick had been seated at a shady table for fifteen minutes before Dino showed up with a small blonde on his arm, his hair still wet from his swim. He gave her a kiss, patted her on her backside, and sent her on her way before sitting down.

“How you doing, Rick?” Dino asked, shaking his hand.

“Good, Dino, you?”

“Since the last hour, great! I met her at the pool; you should see her in a bikini!”

“Down, Dino, down,” Stone said.

“You see the eleven o’clock news last night?” Rick asked Stone.

“He was busy,” Dino said.

“Too bad. You’d have seen David Sturmack leaving the lockup with a coat over his head. His lawyer told the cameras he went into Vinnie’s for a corned beef sandwich, that the whole thing was a terrible misunderstanding.”

“I love it,” Stone said, smiling broadly.

“Same with Barone. Can you believe the bookie joint was already back in business at the same location?”

“I’d believe it if they were back in business this morning,” Stone said. “They’ve got to have somebody at LAPD on the pad.”

“Now, now,” Rick said. “You can’t go applying NYPD methods to us.”

“Was Sturmack in the back room?”

“Unfortunately, no, but the embarrassment factor is not any less because of that.”

“I wonder what he’s telling his pals at the Bel-Air Country Club today,” Stone said.

“Wish I could be there,” Rick replied.

“Rick,” Dino said, “can’t we just kill these guys, so I can go back to New York? It’s too sunny and clean out here.”

“No, Dino, you can’t kill anybody. It’s frowned on.”

“Oh,” Dino said. “But we can keep on driving them crazy.?”

“Be my guest.”

“Good. What’s our next move, Stone?”

“I want to sink Ippolito’s big boat.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Rick said, holding up his hands.

“How we going to do that?” Dino asked.

“I had a real good look around her yesterday; told the skipper I was from an insurance company. I figured out how to do it, but we’ve got to pick a night when nobody’s aboard but a couple of crew. I don’t want to drown anybody, unless it’s Ippolito.”

“I’m not hearing any of this,” Rick groaned.

“Hear no evil,” Dino said. “That’s my policy. Do evil, if it works for you.”

“I’m sorry, Rick,” Stone said. “Dino is a depraved individual. He can’t help himself.”

“You’re not doing so bad with the depravity yourself,” Rick replied. “How can I help?”

“We’re going to need a fast boat, something that’ get us to Catalina and back in a flash.”

“I think I know where I can borrow one. When?”

“I’m not sure yet, but could you line it up on short notice?”

“Consider it done.”

Stone and Dino drove down to Santa Monica Airport, a small general aviation field with a single 5,000-foot runway, near the beach and just next door to Los Angeles International.

“What are we doing here?” Dino asked as they pulled into a parking lot behind a large hangar.

Stone found the sign he was looking for:AIRCRAFT FOR RENT. “We’re going to do some aerial sightseeing,” Stone said. “I want to show you the layout of where we’re going, and it’s the fastest way.”

“What’s the hurry?” Dino asked.

“This weekend that yacht will be full of people. I want to get to her first. Wait here.”

Stone went into the office, passing a large sign offering various airplanes for rent, and inquired about rates from a young man at the desk. He produced his pilot’s license, his medical certificate, and his logbook on request.

“What sort of airplane do you want?” the man asked.

“Something slow for sightseeing.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Just out to Catalina and back. A couple of hours.”

“I’ve got a Cessna 172, a nice one-good radios, GPS. It’s IFR certified, and it’s a hundred and fifty bucks an hour, wet.”

“I won’t be doing any instrument flying, but it sounds fine.” Stone gave him a credit card to imprint, then followed him out to the hangar.

“Let’s see you preflight her,” the man said.

Stone walked slowly around the airplane, doing the checks he’d done a hundred and fifty times, including the fuel.

“That’s pretty good without a checklist,” the man said.

“I did my initial and a lot of my instrument training in a 172,” Stone explained. “It’s all in my logbook.” He helped push the airplane out onto the tarmac, then the man handed him the keys.

“Go safely,” he said. “I’ll look for you back before the fuel runs out.”

“Thanks,” Stone said. He went back to the car and got Dino. “This way,” he said, and led the way back to the airplane.

Dino looked at the little Cessna with concern. “It’s kind of little, isn’t it?”

“A very sturdy aircraft,” Stone said. “More of them produced than any other; think of it as a kind of Volkswagen Beetle of the air.”

“I always hated those little cars,” Dino said.

“Hop in the passenger seat.”

Dino climbed in, and Stone got the seatbelt on him and fitted him with a headset, then walked around the airplane and got into the left seat.

“Where’s the pilot?” Dino asked.

“You’re looking at him.”

“Now, wait a minute, Stone,” he said. “I know you screwed around out at Teterboro for a year, but that doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere with you in the pilot’s seat.” His protests were drowned out when the engine roared to life.

“Don’t worry about it, Dino; I’ll get you home safely.” He ran through the pre-taxi checklist, then called the ground frequency for a taxi clearance. He was told to taxi to Runway 21.