Stuart Woods - Fast and Loose

“Yes, he lives in the house next door, but he owns this house, too, and he had an empty apartment. Let me get you a drink.”

“Scotch,” she said.

He poured her a Talisker and himself a Knob Creek. “Why don’t we sit out in the garden for a while, before it gets too chilly?” He led her outside, where they found a comfortable outdoor sofa.

“This is lovely,” she said. “I’ve heard of Turtle Bay, but I’ve never been here.”

“You’ll always be welcome.”

“How long are you going to live here?”

“Stone has said I can stay as long as I like, but eventually I’ll want to buy something.”

“Wait a minute, Stone Barrington?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“No, but my boss and her husband are very tight with him.”

“Right.”

“Listen, I’d better explain about my face.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Let’s get it out of the way. After our training at the Farm I was stationed in various parts of the Middle East, the last in Israel. I was sitting in an outdoor café in Jerusalem with one of my local sources, and the place got hit in a drive-by, sprayed with automatic weapons fire. I woke up in a hospital two days later. A couple of days after that the Agency airlifted me home and put me in Walter Reed Hospital, where I had a number of surgeries over four months, then spent another seven months in rehabilitation. The Agency kept me on the payroll through all that, but afterward, I didn’t want another foreign assignment, so I resigned and came to New York.”

“You seem to be fine now,” he said.

“I am fine — an occasional headache, but that’s it. I still have one more surgery to go, but I’m glad to be out of the line of fire.”

“I don’t blame you,” Charley said.

“What did you do after the Farm?”

“I did hitches in Stockholm and London.”

“Did you learn Swedish?”

“No, I was playing the part of an American businessman, and nobody expected me to speak the language.”

“I assume you didn’t have that problem in London.”

He laughed. “No, not once I got the hang of speaking Britslang.”

“You said you had left St. Clair. What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to work with Stone and your boss, Mike Freeman, doing mergers and acquisitions in a partnership we’re forming. I’ll be working in your office building.”

“So you’ll be conveniently located.”

He smiled. “You, too.”

They dined at a table in the living room as rain began to fall outside.

“I don’t know any restaurants with food this good,” Kaley said during the main course, “or with a better cellar.”

“Stone lives well,” Charley said. “Tell me, do you know anything else about Jake Herman, other than what you’ve already told me?”

“Not really, but I formed the impression that he was a pretty tough guy, and that he was doing dirty work for St. Clair, and I didn’t want to be involved in that. He was inordinately impressed that I had served with the Agency, and he pressed me to tell him about the skills I’d learned at the Farm. I just told him I couldn’t talk about it.”

“Did you meet St. Clair?”

“Just in passing. He stopped by Herman’s office, and I was introduced. He seemed much nicer than Jake Herman.”

“He seemed that way to me, too, but then I wondered why he was employing people like Jake Herman.”

“A very good point.”

“Since St. Clair died, the place is being run by a guy named Erik Macher, who struck me as not much better than Jake. I viewed the place as a snake pit, and I got out after less than a month. Herman actually tracked me to Stone’s house, although I made a minor effort to cover my tracks. Our instructors at the Farm would be ashamed. Macher’s got a couple of guys in the block, now, keeping an eye out for me.”

“What do they want from you?”

“I think they’re worried about what I might know more than they think about how they do business. A pall of paranoia hangs over St. Clair.”

“What did you find out while you were there?”

“Well, for a start, Macher and the company’s lawyer falsified St. Clair’s will in a manner that gave Macher control of the whole shebang. They also made an effort, though not an illegal one, to take over the Carlsson Clinic, but Stone got involved and put an end to their bid.”

“I know a little about that. The clinic is our client now, and my boss, Viv, oversaw their security. It’s still going on.”

Fred Flicker came in to take their dishes, and Charley introduced him to Kaley.

“When you’re ready to leave, miss,” Fred said, “I’ll drive you home. We have unwelcome visitors outside that you don’t want to meet while looking for a cab.”

“Thank you, Fred,” Charley said. When he had gone, Charley told her about the butler. “Fred’s an ex — Royal Marine commando, and tough as nails. You’ll be safe with him, and you’ll depart from the garage without being seen on the street.”

“It’s like being back at the Agency,” Kaley said.

After dinner, it didn’t take long for them to be back in bed together.

“Just like the old days,” Kaley said, when they had both climaxed.

“Better,” Charley replied. “We’re older and wiser. And I have the feeling that the next few years are going to be the best I’ve known. Of course, I’ll need your company to enjoy them fully.”

“That’s nice to know,” she said.

“What sort of work has Strategic Services had you doing?”

“Personal protection stuff, at first, Secret Service — like. Viv and I have become close, though, and I’m working more with her on security evaluation and planning, and I like that. Occasionally, I still go out with a team, as I did at the Carlsson Clinic. I and another woman were assigned to Marisa, the daughter, and the old man became enamored of my partner. They’ve been seeing each other since. There’s an age difference, but it doesn’t seem to bother either of them.”

Around midnight, after they had showered and dressed, Charley buzzed Fred, then he walked Kaley to the garage and put her into the Bentley. He made a point of getting back inside before the garage door opened, but he could hear the rain coming down hard.

“I hope you didn’t bring an umbrella!” he yelled into the night.

The following morning Fred drove Charley Fox to the Strategic Services building on East Fifty-seventh Street, with his briefcase and a couple of boxes of office stuff. It was still raining.

“Mr. Fox, you’ll be happy to hear your two tails got properly doused last night,” Fred said.

“That does make me happy.”

“There are two new ones there this morning, in raincoats, hats, and carrying umbrellas like weapons. They look like proper spies.”

“They don’t have wheels, do they?”

“No, don’t worry, they’re not following us. Still, I’ll take further precautions.” Fred made a couple of unnecessary course alterations, then pulled up under the portico of the building and carried Charley’s boxes inside for him.

Charley presented himself at the front desk, showed them two picture IDs, then was photographed and presented with a newly minted security badge to clip to his breast pocket. A man in a black suit led him to an elevator and up to the fourth floor.

“My name is Chaney, Mr. Fox. You’ll be pretty much alone on this floor,” the man said, “as it’s kept for expansion and for lone wolves like you. Two temporaries — a receptionist and a secretary — have been assigned to you, until you find your own.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chaney,” Charley replied.

They came to a double glass door on which had been affixed the words THE TRIANGLE PARTNERSHIP in large gold letters. An attractive young woman sat behind the front desk.