Стюарт Вудс - Choppy Water

“I guess we can’t do better than that,” Eugene replied.

Sykes consulted a map. “Second right,” he said. “The auditorium will be on your left.”

Eugene found the building and pulled into the parking lot, and both men got out.

Sykes walked to the main entrance of the building and tried the doors; they were unlocked. They passed through a large lobby area and the double doors. The empty rows of the auditorium lay before them. “It seats seven hundred fifty,” Sykes said, “and I’m sure it will be full.”

“Can we go upstairs?” Eugene asked.

The colonel led the way. “It has a projection booth.”

The booth was in the center of the last row of balcony seats. Eugene tried the door. “Locked.” He took a lockpick kit from his pocket and made quick work of getting inside. He did not turn on the lights but used a penlight. “I like this,” he said, climbing into the single seat where the projectionist could watch the movie. He looked down at the stage, then opened the small viewing window. “Ideal,” he said.

“That’s what you said about the projection room at St. Mary’s,” the colonel reminded him.

“They’re both ideal,” Eugene said. “Our uniforms and IDs give us an advantage here.”

“We’d have different uniforms at St. Mary’s, but egress is the problem at both venues,” Sykes said. “Let’s have a look.”

Eugene had a last look around, then the two men followed the EXIT signs to a door that opened onto an outside landing and a flight of stairs to the ground.

“Both front and rear entrances,” Eugene said. “A piece of cake.”

“Okay, then how do we get off the base?” the colonel asked.

Eugene pointed past the rear exit and across the street. “Officers club,” he said, “noncom club next door. I’ll drop you at the first then park in front of the second. We can have a sandwich at the bar, wait for the hubbub to die down, then leave by the main gate, where they checked us in.”

“I like it,” Sykes said.

“So do I,” Eugene replied. “But I like St. Mary’s, too. I’d be wearing a workman’s coveralls there. I can put the disassembled rifle in my tool kit, then walk outside onto a busy Manhattan street and get into the van. But here is different. How are we going to get the rifle on and off the base? I don’t want to leave it. It’s a fine piece of equipment.”

“There’s room under the rear seat,” Sykes said. “I’ll ride in the rear seat, like today, so I’ll be sitting on the case.”

“And we have the advantage of already being in their computer, both today and tomorrow. Nothing strange about us.”

“Do you consider them both doable?”

“I do,” Eugene replied.

“Equally so?”

Eugene thought about it. “It’s a shorter shot at St. Mary’s, but given the steep incline of the seating area, more downhill; but I can deal with that. Yes, equally so.”

“Then let’s go back to the city and think on it,” Sykes replied.

They took the George Washington Bridge back across the Hudson River, because Sykes always felt trapped in a tunnel, even one as large as the Lincoln.

Bess left Bloomingdale’s and couldn’t find a vacant cab anywhere, so she hoofed it back to the Lowell, which was only a few blocks. Tom Blake was sitting in the hotel lobby, reading a newspaper. He did not look at her as she passed.

She was putting away the plunder of the day when there was a rap on the inside door. She opened it, and Tom was standing there.

“We’ve got a problem,” Tom said.

“Come in and have a seat.”

Tom sat down. “We’ve narrowed their opportunity to two venues,” he said. “She’s giving an award at St. Mary’s College at nine AM tomorrow, then she’s moving to the Army Intelligence Center in New Jersey, for an 1:30 PM event.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“We don’t know which one they’re going to make the attempt at.”

“Jesus, Tom, then cover both of them!”

“We don’t have the personnel. The president is in town for an appearance downtown tomorrow, and the White House has drained away all available personnel from both the Bureau and the Secret Service.”

“How about the New Jersey State police?”

“They can’t operate on a federal installation.”

“Army MPs can.”

“They’re all tied up dealing with the traffic and visitors for the event.”

“Have you got enough people to cover one event?”

“Yes, but barely.”

“Then pick one and cancel the other.”

“Peregrine refuses to cancel either, says they’re very important to statements she wants to make — on the arts at St. Mary’s and on national defense in New Jersey. Do you think you can find out from Sykes which one he’s going to hit?”

“I think the odds are heavily against it. He’s beginning to trust me, but we’re not there yet.”

“Then I’ll call Stone Barrington. Maybe she’ll listen to him.”

“Now that’s an idea.”

Stone listened patiently to Tom Blake and Bill Wright on a conference call, then listened to all of the suggestions Bess had made. “So you’re at an impasse again,” Stone said. “And you’re both afraid to insist that Holly make the choice.”

Silence.

“Asked and answered,” Stone said.

“Stone,” Bill said, “we’d be very grateful if you’ll speak to Holly on our behalf and get her to make the choice.”

Stone sighed heavily. “And why do you think that will make a difference?”

“Because she’s known you a long time, and she respects your advice.”

“Is flattery all you’ve got, Bill?”

“It is.”

“All right, I’ll have a go. I’ll wait until she gets home and put it to her then.”

“She’s not going to be home until around five o’clock, and she might get delayed beyond that. Please call her and speak to her now.”

“Oh, all right. If she’ll speak to me. She could be in a meeting.”

“Please try.”

Stone hung up and called Holly’s cell phone.

She picked up immediately. “You’re calling for Tom Blake and Bill Wright, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but...”

She hung up.

Stone stared at the telephone, swearing at it. He called back.

“They have my answer,” she said.

“No, they don’t, because the question has changed.”

“The hell it has.”

“The circumstances have changed, too.”

“All right, take your best shot, then I’ll hang up again.”

“This is your choice. If you won’t choose one venue, then the Bureau and the Secret Service will cancel both of them.”

“What?”

“You heard me; what’s it going to be?”

“They don’t have the authority to cancel those events.”

“You’re not president yet, remember? They can cancel them, and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.”

“That’s outrageous!”

“No, it’s not. It’s sensible. What’s outrageous is your insistence on doing both events, when you’ve been told they don’t have the manpower to cover both.”

“I don’t believe them.”

“They’ve explained it to me, and I believe them. Do you want me to explain it to you again?”

“What’s my excuse for canceling?”

“Flu-like symptoms; you forgot to get a flu shot.”

“I did so get my flu shot!”

“It isn’t one hundred percent effective,” he pointed out.

She thought about it. “If I say that, then it will start a whole big immunization thing, and I’ll find myself arguing with all those people who won’t let their kids be vaccinated for whatever.”

“All right, what we need is a reason for your absence that isn’t a lie.”