Stuart Woods - Shoot Him If He Runs

He climbed the tower, being careful to avoid steps that were rotting, and when he reached the top he looked down onto the Markstown jail. The rambling building had been built as an outpost for the British army, and it was arranged around a parade ground, now planted with trees and flowers. It was like a little park, where employees would take their sandwiches for lunch.

Teddy wasn’t sure this was going to work, but it was all he could do. He hated Croft, and he had become weary of paying his bribes. This was something he had been contemplating for weeks; he had only hoped he would get the chance.

Colonel Croft made ready to rake Bill Pepper’s face with the riding crop.

“Go ahead, Colonel,” Pepper said. “Mark me up; the pictures will look great in the international press.”

The colonel’s normally impassive face creased, ready for a snarl, and he pulled the crop back even farther. Then, as he was about to swing, there came a pounding on the door.

“Colonel!” a muffled voice shouted from the other side of the door. “Please open the door at once!”

“I told you not to disturb me!” the colonel shouted back.

“It is an emergency!” the voice shouted back.

The colonel tossed the crop onto the desk and strode over to the door. He unbolted it and yanked it open. “What is it?” he snarled. Then he saw Tiptree, whom he knew from the American Embassy, standing behind the police officer.

“I know you’ve got an American citizen in there,” Tiptree said, shoving aside the policeman and walking into the office. He saw Bill Pepper. “Are you all right, Mr. Pepper?”

“Yes, but he’s got my wife strapped into a chair in the next room!” Pepper replied, getting up and going to the door. Tiptree followed him, and they both looked into the room.

It was empty of all furniture; everything was gone.

“A few minutes ago, this place was a torture chamber,” Pepper said.

“I believe you, Mr. Pepper,” Tiptree said.

“Mr. Tiptree,” the colonel said, placatingly, “there is nothing wrong here; I am merely questioning Mr. Pepper about his activities on the island. As you can see, he is unharmed.”

“He was about to use that on me,” Pepper said, pointing to the crop on the desk.

“Mr. Tiptree, please, let’s talk for a moment, shall we?” The colonel took Tiptree’s arm and steered him toward the door. “Sergeant,” he said to the policeman, “Mr. Tiptree and I will be in the garden for a few minutes. Please send us out some lunch. And would you please process out Mr. and Mrs. Pepper? You may sign them for me.”

“Yes, Colonel,” the sergeant said.

“Wait here, Mr. Pepper,” Tiptree said. “I’ll be back for you and your wife shortly.”

Pepper walked into the anteroom, sat down on a comfortable sofa and tried to slow his thumping heartbeat. “Bring my wife to me right now,” he ordered the sergeant. The policeman got up and left the room.

The colonel steered James Tiptree though another door, and they stepped into the sunlit courtyard at the center of the police station. “Lovely out here, isn’t it? A great improvement from when the British used it to drill their troops.”

“Yes, lovely,” Tiptree replied through clenched teeth. “Listen Colonel, I’ve been waiting here, demanding to see you for most of the night, why…”

“Please take a seat,” the colonel said, showing him to a bench. “I want to assure you that nothing has gone on here except routine police work.”

“I don’t think there’s anything routine about this incident,” Tiptree said, sitting down. My ambassador has already spoken to the prime minister, and I assure you, there will be repercussions.”

The colonel sat down next to him. “I give you my word, Mr. Tiptree, there is nothing…” And then the colonel’s head exploded.

Tiptree leapt off the bench, flecks of gray matter dotting his dark suit, and backed away from the nearly headless corpse, now lying on the gravel path. “Jesus H. Christ!” he said aloud. He could hear doors being flung open and boots pounding on the earth. “I didn’t do it!” he yelled.

Holly and her group were sitting on their patio having breakfast when Thomas Hardy arrived and pulled up a chair.

“Colonel Croft is dead,” he said.

Holly reacted with surprise, but she was not displeased. “Oh, good,” she said. “Now we can rip out those fucking bugs.”

“I suppose so,” Thomas said. “His people will be in such disarray that they probably won’t even be listening.”

“How did he die?” Stone asked.

“There is a courtyard at the police station, and word is, he was sitting on a bench there, talking to a man named Tiptree from the American embassy, when his head exploded. No one heard a gunshot.”

“Single shot from a silenced rifle, explosive-tipped bullet,” Dino said, matter-of-factly.

“Could be, I suppose,” Thomas replied.

Holly was staring out to sea, an amazed expression on her face. “It’s Teddy,” she said.

“What?”

“It’s Teddy Fay; this sort of thing is his specialty.”

“This is the man you came here to find?”

“Yes.”

“But why would he shoot Colonel Croft?”

“I can’t go into that,” Holly replied. She stood up. “Will you excuse me? I have to make a phone call; I think our work here is done, Stone. We can go home today, if they can send an airplane.”

“Just a minute,” Thomas said. “You’re not going anywhere today, and maybe not for several days.”

“What?” she asked.

“The airport is closed; the prime minister is furious about Croft, and he is determined that whoever killed him is not going to get off the island, which means nobody else is, either. The airport is closed.”

“Oh, shit,” Holly said. “No reflection on your lovely inn, Thomas, but I’m ready to get out of here. I miss my dog.”

“I can understand that,” Thomas replied, “but be assured, you are welcome to stay on here for as long as this takes.”

“Excuse me,” Holly said again, then left. She went into the cottage, got her satphone from the safe and went out back, dialing Lance’s direct number.

“Lance Cabot.”

“It’s Holly; shall we scramble?”

“Yes, please.” There was a click on the line. “How’s this?”

“Fine. There has been a major uproar here.”

“What’s happened?”

“Colonel Croft was shot this morning by a sniper with a silenced weapon; he’s dead.”

There was a stunned silence. “I’m going to have to get back to you,” Lance said, and hung up.

Holly stared at the phone in her hand. “What the hell kind of reaction was that?” she said aloud.

Lance hung up the phone and looked across his desk at Hugh English, who had turned a funny color. “I’m sorry, Hugh, please go on.”

“As I was saying, Lance,” English said with elaborate courtesy, “it appears that you have co-opted an agent of mine, the result of which is that he has been arrested and is probably being tortured by that animal Croft.”

“Hugh, the director has already spoken to you about this.”

“Right, and now I am speaking to you about it.”

“Hugh…”

“What in God’s name was he doing for you that would result in his arrest?”

“Hugh, he was simply retrieving some documents from the St. Marks government computers, something I understand he’s been doing for months. The fact that he was doing it for me had nothing to do with his arrest.”

English suddenly jumped and grabbed the vibrating cell phone on his belt. “Yes?” His face slowly grew more astonished as he listened. “Why?” he demanded. “Are you perfectly serious about this? I’ll get the ambassador on it right away, and I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up. “That was Bill Pepper; Jim Tiptree went to the jail and effected the release of Bill and his wife, but now the police are holding Jim.”