Стюарт Вудс - Choppy Water

“I don’t think we’ll bother smuggling you into the house,” Stone said. “Nobody can see us in all this, anyway.” He got the cockpit a little neater, then locked the hatch and took Holly’s hand while she climbed onto the dock. He followed, and they began staggering toward the house, against the wind. Finally, its shape emerged from the gloom.

“Where’s our agent on the back door?” Holly asked.

“He’s taken shelter. Drowning isn’t one of their duties, is it?”

“Quite right.”

They shed their foul weather gear on the back porch and stuffed it into a locker to keep it from blowing away, while Stone unlocked the back door.

It was warmer inside, but the fire had died. Stone rebuilt it. Shortly, they were comforting themselves with bourbon and a blaze.

“I guess Dino and Viv got caught out, too. They must have taken shelter somewhere.” A moment later, the doorbell rang, and there was hammering on the door. “That’s them.” Stone went to let them in.

Dino and Viv stumbled into the house, soaking wet.

“Where the hell have you been?” Dino demanded.

“Holly and I went for a sail,” Stone replied.

“Lovely day for it,” Dino said, backing up to the fire. “Is there such a thing as Scotch whisky in this house?”

“You two go upstairs and change,” Stone said, “and we’ll have drinks for you when you come back down.”

The two climbed the stairs, carrying their wet shoes. Ten minutes later they were back, dry and changed. Stone handed Dino his usual Johnnie Walker Black and made Viv a martini.

“Where are the Secret Service people?” Dino asked, after a gulp of his Scotch.

“Bill and Claire are on the mainland, at a meeting,” Stone said. “I guess the others are taking shelter at the yacht club. Nobody should have to stand outside in this rain and wind.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dino said, “you forgot to tell us about that.”

“The vagaries of Maine weather,” Stone replied. “Luckily, we had time to get our sails down and into foul weather gear before it got serious.”

Holly’s borrowed cell phone rang, and she answered it. “Yes? Hello, Bill. Where are you? We guessed as much. We just got back from sailing, and the Bacchettis from a walk.” They could hear his raised voice. “Now, take it easy, it’s not their fault. We sneaked out of the house to the dock and sailed away. All is well.” She listened, then hung up.

“Bill is upset with us,” she said, “and with his detail, too. He and Claire are stuck in Lincolnville for the moment; the ferry won’t sail in this weather. Oh, Seth and Mary are stuck there, too; they went in for groceries.”

It was getting darker, so they switched on the living room lights while Stone put more logs on the fire, then they all sat down with a second drink.

“I’m hungry,” Dino said.

Holly got to her feet. “Come on, Viv. Let’s see if we can find something to snack on before we get any drunker.” The two of them disappeared into the kitchen. The lights went off, then came back a couple of seconds later.

“The generator has kicked in,” Stone said. “At moments like this, I’m glad we have it.”

“Does this bother you at all?” Dino asked.

“What? The weather?”

“No, the Secret Service. There was no one at the front door, and we sheltered out there, sort of, for half an hour, until you finally let us in.”

“There was no one at the back door, either,” Stone said. “With all of us gone, I guess they took refuge at the yacht club.”

“Do you have a phone number for them?”

“Only for Bill, but he’s stuck on the mainland.”

“Call him and ask if he’s in touch with his detail.”

Stone dialed Bill’s cell phone from the landline.

“Yes?”

“Bill, it’s Stone. Have you been in touch with your detail?”

“No, the cell service on the island must have gone down.”

“But you reached Holly.”

“That was before the weather got really bad. I didn’t bring a handheld radio to our meeting, but as soon as we’re across to the island, I’ll round up everybody. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. We hear there’ll be a break in the weather soon, long enough for us to get across.”

They hung up. Stone looked across the room at Dino, who had his pistol out of its holster and was shoving in a magazine and working the action.

“What’s wrong?” Stone asked.

“I don’t know, but something. I’m going over to the yacht club and check on those guys.”

“I’ll come with you,” Stone said. He opened a concealed room that had been his cousin Dick’s office and found himself a gun and ammo, then got them both some dry foul weather gear.

“It’s letting up a little,” Stone said, grabbing a pair of Surefire flashlights and tossing one to Dino. “Let’s go.”

They left the house by the back door.

Stone tucked his weapon under his slicker to keep it dry and inside his waistband to keep it handy. Dino was wearing a shoulder holster.

They stepped off the back porch into a steady, heavy rain. There was an occasional flash of lightning, followed quickly by a crash of thunder. Gusts of wind occasionally blew. They walked, sometimes waded, along the fifty-yard gravel path to the yacht club. Stone could hear an occasional thump, and as they got nearer to the entrance, he could see the right half of the French doors, banging against the side of the building. Most of its glass panes were broken.

Dino got inside first, and Stone saw his flashlight come on. “Jesus Christ!” Dino yelled. Stone switched on his own flashlight and stepped inside, waving it around, “Oh, shit,” he said, as splashes of blood and gore on the walls came into view. He moved the light’s beam down and began to see bodies on the floor — torn and twisted.

Dino was going from man to man and looking closer. “All of them are dead,” he said, feeling an occasional wrist or throat. “And cold. A couple of hours, maybe.”

“Freeze!” a man’s voice shouted.

“Bill?” Stone called.

“Who’s that?”

“Stone Barrington and Dino Bacchetti. Don’t shoot us.”

Bill Wright, followed closely by Claire Dunn, came into the room, weapons drawn. “What the hell happened?” Bill asked. “We just got here on the ferry.”

“We just got here, too,” Stone replied. “Dino says they’re all dead, maybe for a couple of hours.”

The two Secret Service agents made their own quick check. “Where is Peregrine?” Bill asked, using Holly’s Secret Service code name.

“Upstairs at my house, with Viv Bacchetti.”

Bill made a move in that direction.

“Hold on!” Stone said.

The agents stopped.

“They’re both armed, and since they’re both ex-cops, they know how to handle themselves, so identify yourself before you go inside. Wait, I’ll let you in the back door.” Stone led the group back to the house and opened the rear door with his key. “Holly!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

“Upstairs!” Holly called back.

“Bill and Claire are with us. Don’t shoot anybody, it’s safe.”

“The hell it is,” Bill said.

Holly and Viv came down the stairs cautiously, guns in hand. “What’s wrong?” Holly asked.

“Everything,” Stone replied.

Bill grabbed the landline and started dialing numbers.

“Stone,” Holly said, “what’s going on?”

“There’s been an attack. Bill,” Stone said, “you’d better make your next call to the state police. This is their jurisdiction. I’ve got the number.” He began searching his contacts list.

“Fuck ’em,” Bill said, dialing another number. “Our people are federal employees, so the FBI has jurisdiction. I’ll do what I can, until they show up.” He went back to his phone call. “Jerry, this is Bill Wright, Secret Service. My detail for the president-elect has been attacked: six dead, no wounded.” He gave the man their location and directions, then hung up. “The FBI are getting their people down here from the state capital. Should be here in an hour.”