Stuart Woods - Shoot Him If He Runs

“First, there is no political opposition of a violent nature on the island, and if there were, they would have no way of obtaining the weapon used-namely, a high-powered sniper’s rifle of great accuracy, fitted with a silencer; second, there is no foreign visitor on the island who possesses the motive, means and opportunity of accomplishing such a deed, and who has any background consistent with the shooting skills required to make that kill with a single bullet.”

“Now, tell me who in Haiti would go to the trouble of eliminating Croft.”

“Numerous people, Prime Minister. When Colonel Croft and I made our escape from Haiti, we only narrowly avoided assassination squads, and for more than a year afterward we had to exercise the greatest caution in our movements, because they were known to still be hunting us. It was only when we arrived at St. Marks, and after Colonel Croft made your acquaintance, that we began to feel safe.”

“Captain,” the prime minister said, “I am impressed with your deduction and your theory of the assassination, and I am pleased to see that you have the mental acuity to come to the same conclusions that I, myself, have.”

“Thank you, sir,” duBois said. “That being the case, I believe we can now reopen the country to free travel, and I think we should do so as a matter of urgency; the police have had many complaints from tourists and those in the hospitality industry.”

“You may give the order immediately, Captain, and you may also prepare a public announcement for my review explaining the circumstances of the death of Colonel Croft.”

“Of course, Prime Minister. Is there anything else I can do?”

“Yes, Marcel, you may reinstate yourself to the rank of colonel and resume the rank, duties and perquisites of Colonel Croft. Good day, Colonel duBois.”

“Thank you for your confidence, Prime Minister.” DuBois saluted smartly, executed an about-face and marched out of the office. When he departed through the front entrance of Government House, he found the white Mercedes sedan waiting for him, his driver at the wheel. It was remarkable, he reflected, how much could be accomplished, and how quickly, by telling those in power what they wished to hear.

“Where to, Colonel?” the driver asked.

“Back to my office,” duBois said. On the return trip he busied himself with replacing his captain’s bars with colonel’s eagles.

Lance Cabot sat in his office, working on a Saturday morning, and watched Hugh English’s secretary supervising the removal of her boss’s personal effects from his office. When she seemed to be done he got up and walked down the corridor to the room, carrying a legal pad and a tape measure. Quickly, he made a sketch of the bookcases and computer station he would order to be constructed. He would not have a desk, he thought; instead, he would have a large, low table with comfortable chairs arrayed about it, a less formal arrangement than his predecessor had employed. He made a note of the chairs to be ordered.

Hugh English’s secretary came back into the room and cleared her throat.

Lance turned and gave her a little smile. “Yes, Carolyn?”

The woman looked stonily at him. “Have you seen the Drudge Report this morning?” she asked, referring to an Internet website that many thought scurrilous, but that had a record of picking up good gossip, especially from right-wing sources.

“I’m afraid the Drudge Report is not part of my regular reading.”

“Well, it says that Mr. English is leaving the agency because he has Alzheimer’s disease.”

Lance was surprised. “That’s an outrageous assertion,” he said. “I have never noted the slightest indication of that in any of my dealings with Hugh.”

“I rather thought that the assertion might have come from you,” she said. The woman was retiring, along with her boss, so she had nothing to lose by annoying him.

“Carolyn, I assure you that it did not come from me, nor do I have any knowledge of whom it might have come from. I have the greatest respect for Hugh. Though we were never close, any dealings I ever had with him were always conducted with the highest degree of professionalism and mutual respect, and if you wish to quote me to the Drudge Report or anyone else, you may do so freely.”

She looked a bit mollified. “Thank you, Mr. Cabot; I know Mr. English would appreciate that. By the way, a cable has come in from James Tiptree in St. Marks, saying that the island is once again open to air travel.”

“Thank you, Carolyn, I’m glad to hear that. I want to extract the Peppers and some other people from St. Marks as soon as possible.”

“Would you like me to arrange air travel for them?” she asked.

“Thank you, yes. If you could get them a mid-sized jet, perhaps a Hawker, I’d appreciate it. There’ll be six passengers and their luggage.”

“I’ll do it right away and e-mail you the details,” she said. “And thank you again for what you said about Mr. English.”

“I’ll drop him a note and tell him myself,” Lance said.

The woman left the office, and Lance continued to make notes about fixtures and furnishings. He also made a note to himself to add the Drudge Report to his office’s morning reading.

Stone woke late in the morning to find the bedsheet no longer covering him. He delayed pulling it up again to enjoy the sight of Holly lying naked on her back, her legs slightly parted, her hair awry.

She opened an eye. “You’re awake?”

“I seem to be.” He slid toward her on the bed, and she turned on her side to greet him.

“Something I can do for you, mister?”

Stone kissed her lightly on the lips, then he rolled her on her back again and kissed her on the nipples. They stood at attention. “Just lie there, and let me enjoy myself,” he said.

“Don’t I get to help?”

“Not just yet.” He worked his way down her body, kissing her navel and her belly. He admired her Brazilian wax job for a moment, then parted her vulva with his tongue.

Holly made a noise of pleasure.

Stone continued playfully with his work, then more seriously, until she heaved and thrashed, while running her fingers through his hair, until she climaxed with a long, loud sigh.

They lay there for a moment, both panting, Stone’s head resting on her belly.

“That’s a very nice way to wake up,” she said, then she rolled him on his back and sat astride him, stroking his penis until it was explosively hard. She slipped him inside her and began moving.

To his surprise, Stone came almost immediately. “Wow,” he said softly.

Holly leaned over and kissed him. “That was quick.”

“I had a head start,” he said, “so to speak. I nearly came when I was doing you.”

“How long do I have to wait for a rematch?” she asked.

“Until after breakfast,” he replied, reaching for the phone. “I’m hungry for more than you. What will you have?”

“It’s nearly lunchtime; Eggs Benedict, orange juice and coffee.”

Stone ordered the same for both of them.

Shortly before noon, Lance was sitting in his temporary office having a sandwich sent up from the cafeteria, when he looked up to see Mona Barry standing in the doorway, holding a laptop. “Good morning, Mona,” he said. “Nice to see you in on a Saturday.”

“I wish I could say it was nice to be here, but I’ve been putting in a lot of time on the photos you gave me, and I have some results, though perhaps not the results you hoped for.”

“Come in and take a seat,” he said, dragging a chair next to him behind his desk, so they could both look at the laptop. “What have you got?”

Mona opened the laptop and pressed a button. “Here are the three photographs you gave me; I’ve run multiple tests on them. I have eliminated Robertson from consideration as Teddy.”