Стюарт Вудс - Choppy Water

“Bill, we got a tip from our source,” the man said.

“Same one as last time?”

“Yes.”

“And what good news does she have for us today?”

“The group we’re dealing with has a marksman in its midst, who is undergoing further training. Also, a special silencer is being created specifically for his weapon.”

“Which is?”

“We’re told a high-powered rifle, that’s all. No caliber or maker.”

“We’re sure this is the same source as last time?”

“Apparently.”

“Can I ask a question?” Bill said.

“Of course.”

“If our source knows who these people are, why haven’t we arrested them for the Maine killings?”

“She has no knowledge of that incident and, thus, no evidence to connect them with it.”

“Does she have any clue as to where or when they will make the attempt?”

“No, but the source says they know that she’s coming back to Washington for a few days, so that gives us a time frame.”

“I’d give a lot to know how they know that.”

“We all would, Bill. Our task now is to absolutely ensure her safety while she’s here. When and how is she arriving?”

“Tomorrow, aboard her friend Barrington’s aircraft. At Manassas — it’s a lot easier to cover than Dulles.”

“It is. The equivalent of a White House detail will meet her. It’s a budget-buster, but I have to do it.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

“Of course.”

“Instead of meeting her with a lot of agents, why don’t we just disguise her a bit and have her met by a car that’s armored but appears to be civilian.”

“What do you mean by ‘disguise’?”

“Gray wig, sunglasses, dowdy coat. Age her twenty years.”

“That’s unconventional for us.”

“But cheap,” Bill reminded him.

“I can’t argue with that. You handle it from your end.”

“I can do that. I have another suggestion.”

“Go ahead.”

“If she stays in her Georgetown house, then we’re back to the full-detail problem. Why not put her in a place that’s inaccessible and much safer?”

“Sounds good. What do you have in mind?”

“The family quarters of the White House.”

“You think the president will go for that?”

“I think she’ll be delighted. They’re old friends and colleagues.”

“That’s right. I’ll call the president.”

“Why not just call the head of the White House detail and ask him to ask her? Keep it out of official channels, where it might cause talk.”

“I think that’s a great idea, Bill. Let me know if you have any more suggestions.” He hung up.

Bill knew a retired agent who had a wife who was a theatrical makeup artist. Her name was Tillie Marks, and he soon established contact.

“What can I do for you?” Tillie asked.

“I have a lady in my care, and we have to age her twenty years to get her safely off an airplane in plain view of others, then into a car.”

“That’s it?” Tillie asked.

“That’s it.”

“Let me make a suggestion that will save you twenty-five hundred dollars, which is my fee for a day’s work.”

“Please do.”

“Find out her hat size, then go to Bloomingdale’s and buy a gray wig, on the longer side. Put her in that, with a head scarf and sunglasses.”

“Is that going to make her look twenty years older?”

“It will if you give her a walker, available at any big drugstore or medical supply store.”

“Tillie, you’re a peach,” Bill said. “I owe you a good dinner one night soon.”

“We never turn down anything free,” she said, and hung up.

Claire Dunn walked into the room, and he brought her up to date.

“I can do that,” she said.

“How much is a gray wig?”

“A couple hundred, maybe more. The walker won’t be much.”

“I want you to fly down with her and appear to be helping her off the airplane. Do it slowly, and have the car waiting at the wingtip. Then she can use the walker to hobble out there, with you beside her.”

“Where’s she traveling from the airport, and in what?”

“To the White House. Keep the disguise until you’re on the elevator with her. I asked for a civilian-looking car, but armored.”

“They’ve got a bunch of refurbished and beefed-up Lincoln Town Cars in the garage. That should do.”

“Perfect.”

“When are we leaving?”

“Ask the lady when you’re getting her hat size.”

“Am I going to stay with her while she’s in D.C.?”

“You are, and you’ll be covered by the White House detail.”

“How do we get back to New York?”

“Same airplane, same airport, same car, and same disguise.”

Bill’s phone rang. It was his boss.

“The president would be delighted to have her as a guest. It’s convenient for both of them, because our Kate is going to be conducting a tutorial for Holly, on how to be a female president. The rest is in your hands.”

Bill explained what they were doing and got a hearty approval.

“And it’s cheap,” his boss said.

“You can add the savings to my salary,” Bill said. His boss chuckled and hung up.

“Why don’t you come upstairs with me,” Claire said. “We’ll brief her together.”

Holly had no idea what her hat size was. “On the rare occasions when I’ve bought a hat, I’ve just tried them on until one fits. I never thought about them coming in sizes.”

“Small, medium, or large?” Claire hazarded.

“I’m not a small or medium girl,” Holly replied. “What am I going to wear for a coat?”

“We’ll supply one from our own stock.”

“You mean it will be bulletproof.”

“Well, yes, but the big benefit is that it will put twenty pounds on your frame and make you look older.”

“That’s a benefit?”

“It is for this occasion. Once you’re at the White House, you can take it all off until the trip back to New York.”

Holly sighed, then went back to work having her clothes fitted.

Claire picked up the phone, called her Washington office, and wheedled a purchase order out of someone in accounting, then called her supplier. “She’s five ten or eleven, 140 pounds.”

“That would be tall and slim,” the man said. “How long do you want the coat?”

“Down to the mid-calf.”

“Got it. Gimme till the end of the day and an address.”

Claire gave him Stone’s address and the purchase order number and hung up.

Ten minutes later he called back. “I’ve got one in stock in black. How’s black?”

“Black is good.”

“Bye.” He hung up again.

“I heard that,” Holly said. “Black isn’t good for me. It makes me look like an old woman.”

“That’s the idea, ma’am. This is a disguise, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m still in shopping mode.”

“This is what we could call the fool- ’em mode. The alternative is a detail of twenty-five men with shotguns and half a dozen armored SUVs. It’s expensive.”

“Who’s paying for this?”

“The Secret Service. We add it to our next budget request.”

Stone came up from downstairs. “Lunch in ten minutes,” he said. “What’s going on up here?”

Claire explained the plan to him.

“Cunning,” he said.

“Oh,” Holly said, “bill my transition team for the airplane.”

“It’s free of charge,” Stone said.

“No, that would be too much like graft. Then later, when you want something from me, people will say it’s a payoff for the airplane.”

“How much should I bill?”

“Whatever it would cost to charter the same airplane.”

“You’ll be shocked,” he said.