Стюарт Вудс - Choppy Water

“Why do they want her to drive?” Stone asked. “Are they short of hands?”

“She drove on the mission to kill Ms. Barker in her home, and Sykes thinks she did well. She’s been pestering him, at discreet moments, to trust her and give her more to do.”

“I see. It bothers me that she’s on this mission in any capacity. Is that necessary?”

“It bothers me, too,” Tom said, “but Sykes thinks she’s necessary, so we can’t pull her.”

“If she’s left alone in the van,” Stone said, “just have her drive away without them, ditch the van, and beat it to transition headquarters.”

“I’m certainly good with that, if she’s left alone. If Sykes leaves somebody with her, she can’t drive away until he’s aboard.”

“All right,” Bill said. “Stone, I think that’s the best we can do.”

Stone looked at Holly, and she nodded. “Agreed,” he said.

Elizabeth was lying in bed, in the semidarkness, eyes wide open, reviewing the coming day, nailing down every detail, when there was a short rap on the connecting door. She had been half expecting it and had left the door unlocked. “Come,” she said.

Tom Blake came in and found the only light to be from a large-digit electric clock on the bedside table. He could see her, up on one elbow.

“Come in,” she said, moving over and leaving him room to sit on the bed.

He joined her. “I just want to see if you’re feeling ready for tomorrow.”

“More than ready; I’m excited,” she replied. She brushed a lock of hair off her forehead, and a nightgown strap slipped off her shoulder, making for an enticing view of her breast. “Don’t worry about me,” she said, putting a hand on his cheek. “I’ve rehearsed every detail, over and over.”

“A new order. If you’re left alone in the van, drive away. Don’t wait for them. But not if someone is left there with you. I don’t want to lose a good agent.” He indicated the door with a nod of the head. “I’ve got to get back in there,” he said. “I’ve got to be in that room, and alone.” He walked to the door. Before he closed it, he said, “Good luck tomorrow. Take care of yourself, because you’ll be on your own.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, and he closed the door.

Five minutes after Tom was back in the room, his phone rang. “Blake.”

“It’s Stone Barrington. Any developments?”

“None. We’re primed and ready to go. Is Holly worried?”

“No, she’s tougher than I,” Stone said. “She’s dead to the world. I doubt if I’ll sleep tonight.”

“Relax, Stone. We’re at a point where that’s all we can do.”

“Holly said something like that,” Stone replied.

“She was right. See you in the morning.” They said good night and hung up.

Stone was at the transition office at 8:30 AM; it would be the command headquarters for the operation. Tom Blake and Bill Wright were sitting in Holly’s glassed-in office with a woman. Wright waved Stone in.

“Good morning, Stone,” Bill said. “This is Betty Cromwell, one of our scheduling staff.”

“How are you?” Stone said, offering her his hand. Hers was ice cold and clammy.

“Betty here worked for then state senator Hardy, of Virginia, in his Richmond office, before she joined us.”

Stone got the message. He pulled up a chair and kept his mouth shut.

“So, Betty,” Bill said, “as I was asking, how did you come to work for Senator Hardy?”

“A family friend knew him from the Army,” she replied, “and I interned in his state senate office when I was just out of school.”

“And how did you come to work for Holly Barker?”

“I was attracted to her ideas.”

“Which ideas, specifically?” Bill asked.

“Defense, infrastructure.”

“How about abortion?”

Betty blinked. “She and I have different views on that subject.”

Bill consulted a file in his hand. “I see you attended a Pentecostal church.”

“Yes. Isn’t that all right?”

“Of course it is. I just wondered how a Pentecostal could work for someone who is so strongly pro-choice?”

She shrugged. “We can’t all agree on everything.”

“Who was your family friend who knew Senator Hardy?”

“Ah, I don’t remember. I didn’t know him well.”

“Would his name have been Sykes?”

“Possibly. I don’t remember.”

“Did you ever visit Sykes’s home?”

“Once, I think, with my father.”

“What was your impression of his place?”

“It was very nice.”

“Did you visit his library?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see any books there that you had read before?”

She was now clearly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat. “I have to get to work,” she said.

“Not today,” Bill said. “You’re off today. We’re just going to sit here for a while and talk about your relationship with Colonel Wade Sykes.”

Tom rose and left the room, beckoning Stone to follow.

“She’s the mole,” he said. “Let’s leave her to Bill. He’s a gentler interrogator than I — he’ll get her whole story.” Tom led Stone to the rear of the offices, to a room he hadn’t entered before. There were a half dozen video monitors and some audio equipment.

“We’ll listen from here, and watch as much as we can cover.”

They both took seats.

“Holly was still sound asleep when I left the house,” Stone said. “I don’t know how she does it.”

“Did you get any rest?”

“Off and on. How about you?”

“I finally dozed off, middle of the night. I had the on-call duty.”

“Where’s the van?” Stone asked.

“We don’t know yet. They’ll pick up Sykes and my agent, Elizabeth, at their hotel. After that, the whole lot will soon be ours.”

“I didn’t ask last night,” Stone said, “but the theater is supposed to be filled by a student audience, isn’t it?”

“It was,” Tom replied. “But we made some changes in the schedule.”

“Is anybody going to get hurt?” Stone asked.

“None of the students. Others will.”

Tom Blake walked into a rear room at the transition headquarters and watched for a couple of minutes how a fine theatrical cosmetologist could turn Gerry Mason into Holly Barker. That done, a hairdresser sprayed water on her hair and blew it dry, placing soft curls in the places that Holly had them. One of Holly’s suits hung on a nail in the wall nearby.

Tom took Gerry’s hand. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Calm, but excited,” she said. “Ready. I don’t really have all that much to do. The Secret Service agents will push me in the right direction.”

“Are you armed?”

“I brought a piece.”

“Do you have a shoulder holster?”

“Yes.”

“Wear it. You probably won’t need it, but if you do, you should have it.”

“Thank you, Tom, I will.”

Tom checked his watch. “We’ll load up in about fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Elizabeth put on her underwear and slacks, leaving off her blouse, then slipped on her lightweight, flesh-colored shoulder holster, got into the blouse and buttoned it, leaving the top button undone Someone looking for a gun would get the sight of cleavage instead. She slipped on a light leather jacket and zipped it up halfway. She picked up her Sig Sauer .380, pumped a round into the chamber, then popped the magazine and replaced the round, before reinserting the magazine. She slipped a spare magazine into her jacket pocket, then finally she put on her pearl necklace and earrings.

The hotel phone rang. “Yes?”

“Bess, it’s Wade. You ready?”