Стюарт Вудс - Choppy Water

“Thank you. Tom Blake already knows that — he sent her there.”

“What would you have expected him to learn, Stone?”

“Oh, let’s see. Has he learned that the junior senator from Virginia, Les Hardy, has visited the compound?”

Lance took a beat before he responded. “I beg your pardon?”

“I spoke clearly, Lance. Does that name surprise you?”

“I’ve heard it before.”

“From Leroy Collins?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Lance, who’s running Leroy?”

Lance let out a deep sigh. “I am.”

Stone doubted that. “Doesn’t Leroy ever call? Don’t you have heart-to-hearts?”

“Only when he has something to report,” Lance said.

“Did you hear that Holly canceled two events yesterday?”

“Yes, something about the president being in the city and taking up all the oxygen, I believe.”

“Did you know that Wade Sykes and one of his minions reconnoitered both sites the day before yesterday? Or that they learned about the visits from Les Hardy, who is running a leaker on Holly’s transition team?”

“Where does your information come from?”

“From Tom Blake’s agent, who wears a wire and picked up a conversation between Hardy and Sykes.”

“If that information became any more widely known, it would threaten the life of my agent.”

“No. Sykes never speaks about anything important when Elroy is around, because Elroy is black, and Sykes doesn’t trust anyone black.”

“That would account for Elroy’s lack of productivity,” Lance said.

“Lance,” Stone said, “if I were you I’d find a way to make Elroy more productive or else get him out of there before Sykes twigs and puts the man in an unmarked grave.”

“That’s good advice, Stone,” Lance said, “and I’ll take it. Good day to you.” He hung up.

Stone called Tom Blake.

“Yes, Stone?”

“I just spoke to Lance. He maintains that his agent has learned nothing, except that your agent is FBI. I suggested that he find a way to get more out of him or pull him out before Sykes kills him.”

“I think that was good advice, Stone. Do you think Lance will do it?”

“Which one? Productivity or death?”

“I don’t know how you make a mole more productive, do you?”

“No. I doubt that Lance does, either.”

“So he’ll get him out?” Tom asked.

“If he does, your girl will know about it.”

“Maybe I should get her out, too.”

“Why? It seems to me that she’s been very productive.”

“Because I don’t want to get her killed.”

“It’s a little late for that. After all, it was you who sent her into that nest of vipers. Besides, if you pull her now, Sykes is going to take a great interest in where she went — and if he finds out, he’ll kill her. He might even drop his plans for our lady, and if he does that, you’ll still have nothing on him, and he’ll go right on operating. And you haven’t even started to explore where Senator Hardy stands in all of this.”

“Actually, I have. We’re turning over every stone as we speak.”

“Anything on the transition team leak?”

“There are two people, a woman and a man, who have right-wing connections and hail from Virginia. Soon, we’ll have a chat with them.”

“May I make a suggestion, Tom?”

“Sure.”

“Let me have that chat with them, separately. They will feel less fearful of talking with me, rather than with an FBI agent.”

“Good suggestion, Stone. I’ll mention it to the director, who is taking an interest in this.”

“One other suggestion, Tom. I think Lance Cabot is going to yank Leroy Collins. If he does, you should press Lance to let you talk to Leroy. He might know something he doesn’t know he knows.”

“You’re a fount of good ideas, Stone. We’ll see what happens.”

“One more,” Stone said. “Before you talk to your two suspects on the transition team, think about setting up another stop on the schedule that resembles the two you canceled, but a fake. Maybe you can suck Sykes into making his move. Of course, you’ll want Holly out of the way when that happens.”

“I’ll talk with Bill Wright about it,” Tom said.

The two men said goodbye and hung up.

Holly sat at the common table at her headquarters and looked at her watch. She stood up and shouted to the room, “Everybody, be quiet and listen!”

The place fell silent.

“I’ve noticed of late how haggard you are all looking, and I can see that I’ve been working you too hard.”

There were murmured denials.

“Don’t lie to me,” Holly said, “you’re all exhausted. I want you all, every man and woman of you, to get up from your seats, take your coats, if you have them, and your personal effects, then go home.”

Nobody moved. They just looked at her, stunned.

“Your specific orders are to go to wherever you sleep, order in a pizza and a cheap bottle of wine, eat and drink yourself into a stupor, then go to bed and sleep for twelve hours. That is all. Get out of here!”

They moved fast, before she could change her mind.

When Holly was alone, she went into her office, found a bottle of bourbon in a bottom drawer, grabbed some paper cups, went back to the common table, and sat down.

A lone woman appeared at the other end of the room and stood there, silently.

“Holy shit,” Holly said to herself, unbelievingly. Finally, she took a deep breath and held the bourbon bottle aloft. “Come and have a drink,” she said. She watched the woman approach. She looked eerily familiar. So did the suit she was wearing.

“Have a seat,” Holly said.

The woman sat down.

“Who are you?” Holly asked.

“My name is Holly Barker,” the woman replied. “I’m the president-elect of the United States.”

“Well,” Holly said, pouring them both a drink. “You’ve certainly convinced me.”

They both raised their cups and drank.

“Where on earth did they find you?” Holly asked.

“I’m an agent at the DEA,” the woman replied. “I’ve worked some cases with the Bureau, and somebody there remembered me. They got a hairdresser and a makeup artist in and burgled your house for this suit and a couple of others, then they dyed my dirty-blond hair auburn. I think I’ll keep it this way.”

“What was your name before you were me?” Holly asked.

“Geraldine Mason. Gerry, to you and everybody else.”

“Did they tell you what they expect you to do?”

“I gather I’m to get myself shot, but not in the head. I’m wearing a vest under the suit.”

“My nose is bigger than yours,” Holly said. “Do you think you can pass?”

“People see me get out of the right car, and they’ll believe what they expect to see.”

Tom Blake, Bill Wright, Claire Dunn, Sam Meriwether, and Stone Barrington filed into the room and sat down at the table.

“Good job,” Holly said. “She fooled me.” She shoved the bourbon and cups down the table, and they all partook.

Tom Blake spoke up. “Here’s how it’s going to go down,” he said. He spoke for five minutes or so, then stopped. “Well?”

“I think Holly, here, can pull it off,” Holly said. “I hope the rest of you can, for her sake.” She took a tug on the bourbon. “I’ve already forgotten everything you’ve told me.”

“That’s as it should be,” Claire said. “We’ve had a chat with two of your scheduling staff. They’ll be returning to work tomorrow, and they’ll get a schedule that includes a thirty-minute stop at a theater at Hunter College, over on Lexington Avenue. It will be the only venue on your schedule that might work for them.”

“Why do you think that?”