Stuart Woods: Fast and Loose

“That he’s expected to recover.”

“Did they mention the bomb?”

“No.”

“That must mean it didn’t go off. What time were they at the office?”

“They left a little before ten.”

“So the bomb might still have gone off?”

“I don’t think so,” Macher said. “I had the satellite radio news on the whole way down here and there was no mention of it.”

They went into the kitchen, and Jake heated up a can of chili while they sipped a scotch.

Stone and Rawls cruised slowly past the house as the sun was going down and saw Macher’s Mercedes.

“What does Macher drive?” Ed asked.

“A Mercedes S550, just like that one,” Stone replied.

They drove on past.

Stone, directed by Ed Rawls, found a spot to park in some high weeds, within sight of the house. Stone left the satellite radio on a jazz station so they wouldn’t have to talk, but Rawls wanted to talk anyway.

“This is like old times, in my younger days with the Agency,” he said. “Except I would be on my belly in the grass, instead of sitting in a comfortable chair and listening to good jazz from the sky.”

“Did you like those days?” Stone asked, just to keep him going.

“I did,” Rawls replied. “In fact, I loved them. I was serving my country and at the same time, venting my hatred of the Soviets and the harm they were causing in the world. Every time we hurt them I felt genuine satisfaction.”

“What about later, when you were running agents instead of being run?”

“Running others was harder than being run. The only safety I could give them was in the planning. Once they were out in the field, all I could do was worry, and I did.”

“Did many of them not come back?”

“A few. I could name their names and tell you their records, which I memorized. We hardly ever got to bury them. They’re just stars on a wall at Langley, not even their names.”

“You said you’d heard of Macher while you were still in harness. What did you hear?”

“I told you some of it — a propensity for violence, whether called for or not. He’d shoot the opposition if he had the chance. It caused a backlash from the Soviets and the East Germans that did not react to our benefit. For that, I hate the son of a bitch, to this day.”

“Do you mean to kill him tonight?” Stone asked.

“If he gives me an excuse that will work with the cops. I’m not willing to go to jail for it. Are you going to back me?”

“If I can,” Stone replied.

“That’s very reassuring,” Rawls said sarcastically.

“After all, he’s tried to kill me a couple of times — tried hard, too. I just got lucky.”

“I should think that would be reason enough just to put two in his head,” Rawls said. “What does it take to get you riled enough to do something about it?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Stone replied.

“Well, you’d better think on it, because if we get within range of these two, I think we can count on rounds coming our way.”

“That would certainly call for a response,” Stone said.

They sat quietly for a while, waiting for dark.

Rawls finally spoke again, and his voice was without its hard edge. “You know, I’ve known a lot of people in my life — still know a lot of them — but I think you’re the only friend I’ve got.”

“Why do you think that is?” Stone asked, genuinely curious.

“Kate used to be my friend,” Rawls said. “I was her mentor, and I was a good one, too. But when I had my trouble, she took great personal offense, and we weren’t friends anymore.”

Stone knew about that.

“Since that time, you are the only person who has laid it on the line for me, and I want you to know I’m grateful for that.”

“You’re welcome, but let’s not overstate the case.”

“I’m not overstating nothing. Who else would be with me here right now?”

Stone didn’t have an answer for that.

They were silent for a while, and Stone began to doze a bit. Some time later, he wasn’t sure how long, Rawls poked him in the ribs.

“What?” Stone asked.

“A light just went on in the house,” Rawls said. “In my study, I think.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

“Then that would mean they’re both in your study, wouldn’t it?”

“No,” Rawls said, “that would mean that at least one of them is in my study. The other could be upstairs, asleep, or napping on the living room sofa. Let’s drift down there and see.”

As the car began to move an outdoor light came on behind the house.

Macher got up from the living room sofa, where he had been napping and making decisions. He went to the study door where Jake was reading. “Jake?”

“Yep?”

“Come show me this backhoe out back.”

“What for?”

“I’m curious about something.”

“What?”

“Show me, and I’ll tell you, if it means something.”

Jake put down his book and stood up. “All right, follow me.” He took out a flashlight, led the way to the rear of the house and out the door.

As his foot touched the back steps, Macher turned on the outside light. “Easier to see,” he said.

Jake led the way behind the garage, then switched on his light to illuminate the shadows.

“You know how to run a backhoe, Jake?” Macher asked.

“Yeah, I worked construction summers during college. I can handle most gear. We shouldn’t cover it up, though — somebody will be back to do that.”

“Right.” They were standing on the edge of the pit, looking at the new tank. “Let me have your flashlight for a minute,” Macher said.

“Sure,” Jake said, handing it over.

Macher shot Jake in the back of the head; he crumpled, then fell into the pit, alongside the tank. He was still moving. Macher reached out and put one foot on the tank, his other still on the edge of the pit, straddling Jake. Being careful not to hit the tank, Macher put another round into Jake’s head. He crumpled, relaxed, and fell deeper into the pit, below the tank. If you weren’t looking for it, Macher thought, you wouldn’t see it.

Still, he had to be sure.

Coasting down a small hill with the windows down, Stone and Ed heard the first shot and saw the flash from the rear of the garage, then they heard the second shot.

“Somebody’s in that pit with my new propane tank,” Rawls said.

“Pit?”

“I ordered a new tank. The plumber has hooked it up, but they haven’t finished the job yet. The hole still has to be filled.”

“Which one do you think is in the pit?” Stone asked.

“It would be unlike Macher to be,” Ed replied.

Using Jake’s flashlight, Macher found a shovel. He holstered his weapon, held the flashlight in his teeth, and began shoveling dirt into the crevice where Jake’s body lay. It only took a few shovelfuls to make the body invisible. He returned the shovel to its original position and trudged back toward the house.

He needed a night’s sleep before he returned to Arlington. He was relieved to have Jake out of the way; it left him in the clear, and the trail from the New York incident would stop with Jake. They might have their suspicions, but they wouldn’t have the evidence. He would send someone in a day or two to pick up Jake’s company car.

Stone had passed the house, now. He made a U-turn, and Ed told him to park in the weeds again.

“He’s going to need sleep,” Ed said. “Let’s let him settle in awhile.”

“And then what?” Stone asked.

“Then we can capture us a murderer,” Ed replied. “Whichever one it is, then we call the cops.”

“You’re still making this up as you go along, aren’t you?” Stone asked.