Стюарт Вудс - Choppy Water

“It has steeply raked seats with a projection booth at the top. There’s a fire door that exits to the street behind the college, where a parked van won’t be noticed.”

“Also,” Bill said, “we have it on good authority that they’re getting itchy for action, so they’ll be more likely to bite.”

“Did the cancellation of my two events this week have anything to do with them?”

“Yes. We were not only short of personnel, we were short on time to prepare. And we didn’t have Gerry ready.”

“Do you have time to prepare for this one?”

“We have already done so. We’ll be ready for them at the scheduled time: eleven AM, the day after tomorrow.”

“Where will I be when this is happening?” Holly asked.

“Somewhere else,” Stone said. “You get to sleep late, if you like.”

“What are the chances that Gerry here will get out of this alive?”

“As close to one hundred percent as possible,” Bill said. “That’s all we can tell you now. We need to keep some things from you.”

“Do you consider me a possible leak?”

“We consider you a teapot,” Claire said. “If you’re too full and too hot, you might blow.”

“And you want my approval?” Holly asked.

“They already have approval,” Stone said, “they don’t need yours.”

“Why did you want me to send everybody home?” Holly asked.

“We have some electrical work to do here,” Tom said. “Audio and visual. When they come in tomorrow morning, the schedule will be on everyone’s desk. You can tell them that you and Sam worked out the schedule tonight.”

Claire took a stack of papers from a briefcase and started distributing the pages to the desks. Everybody else began to leave, except two Secret Service agents at the far end of the room.

Stone came to Holly’s chair. “We can go now. How about some dinner?”

“I’m hungry enough to eat an ox,” Holly said, standing.

“I don’t think that’s on the menu at Caravaggio,” he said, “but they have just about everything else, plus the advantage of being right around the corner.”

“Then why aren’t we already there?” Holly asked.

He helped her into her coat, then offered his arm. “Right this way.”

They walked down Madison to Seventy-fourth Street and took a right. As they walked into the restaurant and were escorted to their table, there was a sudden dip in the other guests’ conversation.

“I’m having to get used to that,” Holly said.

Bess was having lunch with Sykes in his suite when Eugene knocked, then let himself in and handed a sheet of paper to Sykes. “I believe we’re on,” he said.

Sykes looked at the paper. “Have you already reconnoitered?” he asked.

“No, but I found some photographs of the theater on their website, and a map check shows a street behind it where the van won’t attract attention. We should get over there and check it out as soon as possible.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes,” Sykes replied.

“I’ll let the others know what the van has to look like,” Eugene said, then left.

“You look excited,” Bess said.

“I am,” Sykes replied. “When both our earlier choices got canceled, I thought they were on to us, but this place seems ideal.”

“Where is it?” Bess asked. She was wearing her pearls.

“At Hunter College, over on Lexington.” He went and got a New York City street map. “Here,” he said, tapping. “And the van will be on the street behind. You’ll be driving.”

She smiled. “You’re sure you can trust me?”

“Of course,” he replied. “And if you fail us, we can always shoot you.”

Bess just smiled again. “I won’t fail you.”

“Let me have your iPhone,” he said.

She handed it to him.

“Let’s go.”

Down the hall a couple of doors, Fisk twiddled with some knobs. “We got all of that,” he said.

“Is anything going on in that theater right now?” Tom asked.

Fisk looked at the schedule. “No, it should be empty. We finished our work there yesterday. All we had to do was tap into the college’s own security network. We’ve got cameras and audio. You want to watch?”

“And record,” Tom said. “We’ll call it a cold run-through.”

Sykes, Eugene, and Bess parked the van on the back street and walked up the fire stairs. Eugene had the lock picked in a moment, and he peered into the theater. “The lighting is dim,” he said, stepping inside and holding the door for them.

They walked into a theater with maybe six hundred seats, lit by a single bulb from a work lamp onstage. Sykes found a bank of switches and turned on the other lights. “Follow me.”

He led them across the front row of seats and up some stairs to another door behind the stage. He opened it to reveal a sitting room. “Here’s their greenroom,” he said. “She has a 10:30 meeting with the president, two floors up, so they’re likely to take the elevator down and enter through the main door. They’ll be briefly exposed on their way to the greenroom.”

He walked them up the rows of seats to the projection booth. “It isn’t even locked,” he said, opening the door.

They walked in and looked around, then Sykes went to the projectionist’s viewing window and sat down. “So you can get a first shot as she comes through the door.”

“Maybe, but not ideal,” Eugene said. “She’ll likely be surrounded by other people. According to the instructions on her schedule, she’s due to be in there by 10:45. That’s when the main doors will be opened and the students and faculty will start to file in. When they’re all seated, the curtains will be drawn to reveal the set for the play they’re doing that evening, and the president will introduce her from the center-stage microphone. She’ll enter from the greenroom at stage left, and when she’s alone at the microphone, that’s when I’ll fire. When she’s down and dead, I’ll cut the lights from that panel by the door” — he pointed — “and we’ll step outside and leave through the fire door on this level. Our two guys will cover us and shoot anybody who tries to follow.”

“Bess, that’s when you’ll be on. The van’s engine should be running, and as soon as the door is closed, you’ll start down the street at a very normal pace, then turn two lefts onto Lexington and head downtown. We’ll park the van in midtown and just walk away. It will have already been wiped clean, and everybody will be wearing cotton gloves, which we’ll ditch at convenient trash baskets on the streets.”

“Wade,” she said, “we shouldn’t ditch them anywhere near the van. They’ll search every trash can for blocks, and if they find even one pair, they’ll get DNA from them. When we get back uptown, we can douse them with something flammable and dump them there to burn.”

“You’re right, that makes more sense,” he said. “Eugene, anything else to cover?”

“They’re working on what we need for the van now,” he replied. “The outside will read ‘New York Video and Audio.’”

“We should rip that off as soon as possible. If somebody sees us drive away, they’ll note the name,” Bess said.

Wade looked at her fondly. “We may keep you on here,” he said.

“We’ve got it all,” Fisk said. “They’re toast.”

“First of all, they’ll be toast when they’re toast, and not before. Second, be goddamned sure that nobody shoots Bess.”

“She will be in the van, remember?” Fisk replied.

“Then nobody shoots at the van at any time, until she is out of it and clear. Pass that order around; don’t miss anybody.”

“I understand,” Fisk said.

The whole group sat at Stone’s dining table early that evening and heard Tom Blake’s report. “I’ve made sure that everyone understands not to fire on the van until our agent is clear of it.”