Stuart Woods: Shoot Him If He Runs

“And I’ll be glad to see it,” Stone said.

“So will we,” Dino chimed in.

Holly gave everybody hugs and saw them onto the airplane, then it began to taxi out.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lance said. “We have to talk.”

The Peppers got into the waiting Lincoln and were driven away, then Holly put Daisy into the rear seat of Lance’s car and got in.

Lance started the car and drove out of the airport. “Let me bring you up to date on what’s happened since you left the island,” he said. “The St. Marks police arrested an unidentified man. He was taken to the police station where, an hour or so later, he signed a confession to the murders of Croft, duBois and the prime minister. Half an hour after that, he was shot-‘while trying to escape,’ as the official announcement put it.”

“He was innocent,” Holly said.

“He confessed, and he probably doesn’t exist.” Lance replied. “Let it lie.”

“Did Teddy make it to another island in his contraption?”

“Two other things,” Lance said. “Harold Pitts’s yacht sank in three hundred feet of water off the eastern end of St. Martin, shortly after Harold got off an SOS. A search was conducted, but no sign of Harold. A life raft was found, empty.”

“What’s the other thing?”

“The other thing is something that didn’t happen,” Lance said. “Teddy didn’t make it to Nevis, where he didn’t elude two police cars and didn’t fly off the island in a Cessna he didn’t have stashed in a hangar there. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“You’re buying into all of that?” Holly asked.

“Yes, I am,” Lance said, “and you would be wise to accept it, too. You and I have other work to do, and we’ve already devoted too much time to Teddy Fay.”

Holly thought it impolitic to mention Stone’s sighting of the small airplane when they took off from St. Marks. “What work do we have to do?”

“I’m making you my assistant at Langley; you won’t have a title for a while. There’ll be some carping among the people there about your not having enough training or experience.”

“Both true,” Holly said.

“You have lots of training and experience, just not what Agency personnel think of in that regard. After a time, when you’ve had an opportunity to win over some folks, and they’ve decided we’re not sleeping together, we’ll see what work we can find for you to do.”

“Working at Langley sounds very restful,” Holly said, leaning back in her seat. “Shall I sell my New York apartment?”

“I wouldn’t do that just yet; you never know when you might need it. For the time being, we’re housing you in an old inn near Langley, where we sometimes keep visitors.”

Holly glanced at Daisy.

“The inn is dog-friendly,” Lance said.

“You think of everything, Lance.”

“I try.”

Holly put her head back on the seat and began to doze.

“Oh,” Lance said, “something else happened in St. Marks while you were in the air: a woman was attacked and partly eaten by a big hammerhead shark on a sandbar just off the beach of the English Harbour Inn. Her companion lost an arm trying to rescue her.”

Holly stayed awake all the way to her new quarters.

That night, Stone and Dino were having dinner at Elaine’s.

“Holly called,” Stone said. He told Dino about the loss of Harold Pitts and his yacht, and about the nonexistent ultralight.

“Figures,” Dino said.

“Yeah.”

Dino pointed at the television, which was tuned to CNN but with no sound. “Look at the crawl,” he said.

Stone looked up. “WHITE HOUSE SOURCES SAY THAT PRESIDENT LEE WILL ANNOUNCE HIS CANDIDACY FOR REELECTION TOMORROW MORNING,” the crawl read.

Stone smiled. “I think I’ll sleep well tonight.”

I am happy to hear from readers, but you should know that if you write to me in care of my publisher, three to six months will pass before I receive your letter, and when it finally arrives it will be one among many, and I will not be able to reply.

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