Stuart Woods - Fast and Loose

“I forget what point I was trying to prove.”

“You were trying to persuade me that I could persuade Lance to give me the name of the person who signed out the explosive, and then to testify to that in open court.”

“Oh, yes, I remember now.”

“I’m so relieved. I had thought you were exhibiting signs of early-onset dementia.”

“Not in the least. Will you call Lance?”

“Only if we can think of something to give Lance in return, something that he really wants.”

There followed three minutes of silent contemplation.

“I can’t think of a thing,” Dino said finally.

“Neither can I.” Stone got out his cell phone. “I’ll call Lance.”

“Good idea. Put it on speaker.”

Stone did so.

“This is Cabot. Why are you calling me at this time of night?”

“Because I know you work at all hours, Lance.”

“Ah, Stone, to what do I owe this dubious pleasure?”

“I thought, Lance, that you might derive some satisfaction from helping to imprison a former CIA agent, a thoroughgoing rogue who is a contemptible and murderous swine.”

“As inviting as imprisoning a contemptible and murderous swine sounds, I cannot imagine how I could help.”

“Then I’ll clear it up for you. The former agent checked out a quantity of plastic explosive from your technical services division some time back, and after performing whatever task he had in mind, he retained a considerable portion of that explosive until this very morning, when he deployed it in an attempt to murder everyone at a meeting at which I was in attendance, not to mention a few dozen innocents in adjacent buildings on the Upper East Side of this city. We were saved only by a passing Labrador retriever who was skilled in the arts of explosive sniffing.”

“A passing Labrador retriever? One on the sidewalk, sniffing for a place to do his business, who just happened to zero in on some plastic explosive at your meeting?”

“It was a she, name of Bessie, but all right, she was actually attending the meeting, in the company of her owner, when she began barking at the fireplace. The bomb was contained in a wood box next to same, which, at Bessie’s suggestion, I opened just in time to disconnect a cell phone attached to said explosive. A moment later, it rang.”

“I hope you answered it.”

“I did, and on the other end was the aforesaid contemptible, murderous swine, name of Erik Macher.”

“Ah!” Lance said. “I believe I do recall that person, and you have described him accurately.”

“Thank you.”

“And what is it you want me to do to him?”

“Just instruct your director of Technical Services to testify that the explosive was checked out to Mr. Macher, and that he did not return any of it.”

“Forgive my asking, but how would my man determine that the same explosive he issued to Macher was contained in the bomb of your acquaintance?”

“Because the manufacturer of said explosive took part in an experimental program to add trace markers to their product, and they have a record of having delivered explosive containing that marker to your own estimable agency, and the NYPD has identified the marker. All we need is the Agency’s confirmation that it was issued to Macher and none was returned.”

“Stone,” Lance said, “I believe you are well acquainted with the level of secrecy under which we operate, are you not?”

“I am, but I don’t see how getting a contemptible, murderous swine off the streets would compromise that secrecy.”

“Because the world at large is not aware that our technical services division even exists, let alone the name of its director, nor does it know for certain that we sometimes find uses for explosives. We do not wish to implant that information in the consciousness of unsuspecting citizens, which might later emerge to bite us on the ass in a congressional hearing, or other such venue, which it surely, as night follows day, would. Please give my warm regards to Bessie, and I bid you a pleasant good evening.” Lance hung up.

“You see?” Stone asked Dino.

“You weren’t persuasive enough,” Dino replied.

Stone arrived at the Carlsson Clinic just before noon and opened the door to Charley’s room to find Charley and Kaley close together, both a little breathless and flushed.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Stone said, dragging a chair up to Charley’s bedside.

“Of course not,” Charley panted.

“I was just leaving,” Kaley said, checking her appearance in her compact mirror and refreshing her lipstick. She kissed Charley and left.

“You got here just in time,” Charley said. “I might have expired.”

“Lovely way to go,” Stone observed.

“I’d just as soon hang around for more,” Charley replied.

“I thought I’d bring you up to date.”

“Shoot.”

“First of all, I checked with Ed Rawls and asked his advice on how best to quietly remove Macher from the scene.”

“And what did Ed suggest?”

“He suggested shooting him in the head and not getting caught.”

“You know,” Charley said, “that’s not a bad idea.”

“I gave Ed the benefit of my experience as a homicide detective in a past life and explained that I had never encountered a perfect murder.”

“But wait,” Charley said, “in a couple of days I’m going to be ambulatory. I could creep out of here, off Macher, and creep back in. I’m an invalid — no one would ever suspect me. How perfect is that?”

“Imperfect,” Stone said. “You forget that we have no idea where Macher is, or whether he is predisposed to getting shot in the head by an invalid, who would probably pop his sutures and bleed to death in the street before he could creep back into the Carlsson Clinic.”

“There is that,” Charley said, looking sad. Then he brightened. “I could get Kaley to shoot him. She’d like that, and God knows, she’s been trained for it.”

“Right,” Stone said, brightening, too, “and she could take the rap for it, as well. You and I would go scot-free. I like it.”

“All right, that was a little unchivalrous of me.”

“It was.”

“Still...”

“Put it out of your mind, Charley.”

“You know the three most important things about a successful murder, Stone?”

“Like real estate — location, location, location.”

“Well, yes, but...”

“What were your three things?”

“I’ve forgotten.”

“That may be the best idea of all,” Stone said, “just forget it.”

There was a knock at the door, and a nurse entered with an envelope. “This was just hand-delivered to you by a policeman,” she said, handing it to Charley.

Charley opened the envelope and examined the contents. “It’s my carry license,” he said, beaming.

“I spoke to Dino about it.” Stone pulled the little Colt Government .380 he had loaned Charley from his pocket and handed it to him. “There you are, and all legal.”

“I feel much better,” Charley said.

“And that greatly simplifies our problem,” Stone said. “All we have to do now is to pull all your guards off, wait for Macher to come in here to kill you, then you can shoot him.”

“Great!”

“If you don’t fall asleep while you’re waiting for him to show up, in which case he will kill you.”

“You’re such a killjoy,” Charley said.

“Remember, that thing is loaded, and there’s one in the chamber. Is six rounds enough to dispatch Macher when he shows up?”

“I should think so.”

“It’s a light caliber — go for a head shot. We don’t want him lumbering about the clinic like a wounded bear, knocking over things.”