Stuart Woods - Orchid Blues

"Well, Chip," Holly said, "this is a very weird way to meet, but cheers." She raised her glass.

Ham tried to sleep, but couldn't. He lay on one of the two queen-sized beds in the big room, while John slept soundly on the other. It was only ten-thirty, but John had insisted on going to bed early.

"Big day tomorrow," he had said.

He had to try to contact somebody. Ham got out of bed and in the darkened room, felt his way toward the bathroom. On the way, he got the cell phone out of his suit pocket and took it with him, closing the door behind him. He dropped his shorts, sat on the toilet and switched on the phone. He searched his memory for Holly's scrambled number. Finally, it came to him, and he dialed. It rang several times, then he heard Holly's voice.

"Hello?"

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened. Ham managed to close the phone and conceal it in his large hand before the light came on. John stood there, looking sleepily at him.

"What is it, John?" Ham asked, making himself sound annoyed.

"What are you doing?"

"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing? Can I have some privacy?"

"Sorry," John said, flipping off the light. "But leave the door open."

Holly was enjoying her evening. She'd had two gimlets, and Chip two martinis, and now the waiter brought a bottle of wine with their dinner. She and Chip had exchanged curricula vitae, and she had listened to his brief account of his divorce, and now she was at the point when the natural thing to do was to tell Chip about Jackson.

"What about you?" Chip asked, helping her along.

"I was engaged, but he died," she said, keeping it simple.

"I'm sorry. Long ago?"

"Not very long."

"And how did you get tied up with Harry?"

"We worked on something together last year, something on my turf in Orchid Beach."

"Wait a minute, I know about that," he said. "It was that crazy subdivision. There was a huge amount of currency involved, and it was all over the papers."

"My fifteen minutes of near-fame," she said.

"So what are you working on with Harry now? And what is it that he wants from me? He certainly didn't put us together because he's a nice guy."

"It's pretty simple," she said. "He wants to know if the president is in town."

"No," Chip said, "he isn't. Is work over now?"

"Work's over," she said, raising her wineglass. "Bon appetit."

"Bon appetit," he replied.

And then something, she didn't know what, caused her to put her hand on her small purse, which was resting on the table. She felt the vibration. How long had it been doing that?

She clawed at the handbag, got out the phone and snapped it open. "Hello?"

She heard a click at the other end, then silence.

"What is it?" Chip asked.

"Just a minute." She conjured up Harry's scrambled cell phone number and dialed it.

"Yeah?" Harry's sleepy voice answered.

"It's Holly. Did you call me?"

"No."

"Then Ham did."

Harry was suddenly wide awake. "Tell me."

"Nothing to tell. As soon as I answered, he punched off."

"He has the phone," Harry said, a note of triumph in his voice.

"He has it, but he apparently is having trouble finding a way to use it."

"They've got to be watching him like a hawk," Harry said. "What time is it?"

"Ten-thirty or so."

"You still with Chip?"

"Yes, and the president is not in town."

"Thank God for that," Harry said. "Call me if you hear from Ham again."

"Will do." She closed the phone, but she didn't put it back in the bag. Instead, she left it on the table near her hand.

"What's up?" Chip asked.

"Nothing, apparently."

"Who's Ham?"

"My father. I've been hoping he'd call."

"Was that Harry you called?"

"Yes."

"And he hopes to hear from your father, too?"

"Yes."

"This is all about some operation of Harry's, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"And you can't tell me about it?" "No," she said. "Not even if I beg?" "No, not yet."

He poured more wine in her glass. "You trying to get me drunk, Chip?"

"I'm already drunk," he replied, "so you must be, too."

"I can't tell you about it."

"Finish your wine," he said. "Think of all those winos out on the streets with nothing to drink, and there you are wasting it."

Holly woke early, and when she sat up, she had to lie down again. She hadn't drunk that much in a long time, or been as hung over. Finally, she managed to stand and get to the bathroom, where she was desperate to find her toothbrush.

Suddenly, she was ravenously hungry. She phoned room service for a big breakfast, then got into a shower and finished it off by standing under cold water until she was fully conscious. She toweled her hair dry, and stood looking at herself in the mirror. It made her feel better that she was in better shape than a lot of women ten years younger than she. The doorbell rang, disturbing her reverie.

She got into a robe and directed the waiter to a table by the window, overlooking the beach and the sea. She signed, leaving a very generous tip from the FBI, and, after feeding Daisy, sat down to eat. Halfway through the waffles and sausage she had so craved a few minutes before, she felt ill and had to stop eating. She was paying for her pleasures.

The evening had ended well, with Chip not getting pushy. She had given him her number at home, knowing that he would never get to Orchid Beach, and she had gotten the information Harry needed from him without trading her virtue for it. Harry could never have done that, she thought smugly.

The phone rang, and she snatched it from its cradle. "Hello?"

"It's Harry."

"What's happening?"

"We think that Ham is registered in a hotel under the name of Owen, so I've got half a dozen agents phoning every hotel near the beach and checking on that name. We ought to have something by noon."

"What am I supposed to do until noon?" she asked.

"Anything you like, just keep that scrambled cell phone handy. If you hear from Ham, find out where he is and who the target is and call me back."

"You have no idea who the target might be?"

"None. Not one of the official schedules-governor, senators, congressmen-shows anything in the city today. I almost wish the target were the president, because that would be easier to handle in a lot of ways. I'll call you if I hear from Ham first." He punched out.

Well, the hell with sitting around here all morning, Holly thought. "I'm going to the beach." She started rummaging in her bag for a swimsuit. Harry had told her to be ready to dress for anything, and she was, with a bikini. She clipped the little cell phone onto her watchband, so she'd be sure to feel it if it went off, grabbed a tote and a towel and headed for the pool, Daisy in tow.

Ham and John were having breakfast together, and John seemed a little off his feed, Ham thought. John had ordered a Bloody Mary with his breakfast, and he looked as though he needed a refill.

"So, tell me more about The Elect," Ham said, casually, chewing on a piece of toast.

"What do you want to know?" John asked.

"The works: who are we, where are we, how many are we-anything you'd care to tell me."

"We're a tightly knit organization with a couple of dozen branches in nearly as many states-three here in Florida."

"Oh? Where?"

"Well, you know Lake Winachobee, then there's Tampa and Fort Lauderdale."

"How many members nationwide?"

"Nearly three thousand."

"Wow, it's amazing that you could get so much done with so few people."

"If you have the right three thousand, you can move the earth."

"I guess we're going to move it a little today, huh?"

"You are, Ham. You're going to do it all by yourself."