Стюарт Вудс - Wild Card

“I can’t quarrel with that,” Jamie said.

“Sara’s making dinner for us, and she advises indoors. We’re due for some rain tonight.”

“By the way,” she said, “this is a wonderful house. I love the interior gardens and the koi pond and all that.”

“It’s nicer in winter, when the temperature is more suited to human beings.”

“And it’s less suited to them in New York.”

“Exactly. There’s a lot to be said for a warm place in winter.”

“I’ve got a title for the book,” Jamie said. “ Excelsior: The Tommassini Files . That’s if my publisher can photograph your safe.”

“Sure, and it’s a great title.”

“Maybe Dino shouldn’t put those cops on your house. It’s better publicity if somebody takes a couple of shots at us.”

“The only trouble with your idea is that one or more of those shots might connect with your ass or, worse, mine.”

“There is that.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to spill blood to publicize your book.”

“But...”

“Put it out of your mind.”

“Oh, all right. We’ll play it safe.”

The rain arrived in the late afternoon, so they met in the indoor living room for drinks.

“Jamie and I are flying back to New York tomorrow. You’re all welcome to come or stay here and fly back commercial when you can’t take the heat anymore.”

Rawls spoke up. “I bagged fourteen iguanas this afternoon, and that’s enough for me. I’ll go to New York with you and spend a few days catching up with friends.”

“You’re welcome to stay with me,” Stone said.

“Is there room for Sherry and me, too?” Bob asked.

“Of course. Sherry, my Turtle Bay house is built a lot like the Maine house: it’s a fortress, with Joan and her .45 guarding the moat.”

“Sounds great,” Sherry said. “Do you think I can sneak over to my apartment and get some clothes?”

“Bob’s good at sneaking,” Stone said. “He’ll take you.”

“I want to check on my place, too,” Bob said.

“Okay. We’re leaving for the airport at eight AM,” Stone said.

Sara called them for dinner, and they settled into the dining room.

At midday the following day, they touched down at Teterboro. Stone kept everybody aboard until the airplane had been towed into the Strategic Services hangar, then with Fred in the Bentley and another hired car, they all drove into the city and into Stone’s garage before they got out of the cars. Joan met them and handed out room assignments.

She took Stone aside. “The process server showed up again today,” she said.

“Ask Herbie to come over. We can brief him, and he can accept service.”

“When?”

“After lunch, if he’s free.”

Herbie arrived around three and shook hands with Jamie.

“I’ve already accepted service, and I’ve spoken with the Times attorneys and with the opposition, as well. I think I put the fear of God into those guys about their client having you tracked all over the eastern seaboard. I think they also understand that they don’t have a case, but they’re not turning down the Thomas money, so they’re stringing them along.”

“Well deserved,” Stone said. “I hope their lawyers bleed them dry.”

Herbie took out a legal pad and ran over a dozen points with Jamie. “I don’t have any points for you, Stone.”

“That’s okay, I’m just an innocent bystander.”

“They’ll call you the instigator of the whole thing, if we ever get as far as a courtroom.”

Jamie spoke up. “I’ll bet the Times will make more from the increased circulation and advertising revenue than the lawyers cost them.”

“That would be poetic justice,” Herbie said. He snapped his briefcase shut and stood up. “Now, let’s see if I can get out of here without somebody shooting me.

Bob drove his rental car around Sherry’s block a couple of times and saw nothing amiss. He parked the car, and they went up to her apartment. Bob cleared every room before he let her inside, then he whispered in her ear, “Don’t say anything while we’re here. The place is probably bugged, and I don’t have time to sweep it.”

She nodded, then went into her bedroom, got a large suitcase from her closet, and began filling it with her things. While she was doing that, Bob had a look around the place but couldn’t find any cameras. A half hour later they let themselves out and went back to Bob’s car.

They drove downtown to Bob’s place, and he performed the same security check he had at Sherry’s. As they pulled into the garage, he said to her, “Same deal here as at your house. Say nothing.”

She nodded and followed him past the double locks into his workshop. She smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. Nice, she mouthed.

Bob filled a toolbox with electronics gear and a suitcase with extra clothes, then they locked up and went back to the car. Before opening the garage door, Bob had a look at the street through a peephole. A gray van was parked across the street that hadn’t been there when they arrived. He went back to the car. “We’ve got company outside,” he said. “A van. I’m going to have to check it out, so you stay here.”

“My gun is in my bag,” she said.

“For God’s sake, don’t shoot anybody. There’ll be hell to pay, no matter how right we are.”

“I’ll try not to,” she said.

“Don’t even consider firing unless someone who’s not me opens the car door.” He let himself back into his workshop and opened a vault the size of a bathroom. There were all sorts of weapons — legal and illegal — on the walls, and he picked up a rifle with a nightscope that fired darts. He loaded the magazine, then let himself out a basement door at the rear of the house, locking it behind him.

He moved around the house, staying between the shrubbery and the outer wall, until he had a clear view of the van. He switched on the nightscope and peered through it at the vehicle. As he did a bright light flared in the front seat, and he squinted as the man behind the wheel lit a cigarette. Two men sat there; the one in the passenger seat had nodded off.

Bob lowered his aim to target a front tire and pumped a dart into the chamber. He squeezed off a round and saw the dart strike the tire, then he quickly aimed at a rear tire and fired at it. Neither shot had made much noise, but he thought the men inside might’ve heard the darts strike the rubber.

He watched them through the scope; the driver was starting to nod off, too. Nothing had startled them. He retraced his steps and let himself into the house, double-locking the door behind him. He returned the rifle to the vault, spun the wheel to lock it, and went back to the garage.

“Now,” he said, “I want you to lie down and put your head in my lap.”

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Can’t you wait until we get home?”

“Just put your head there and don’t move until I tell you to.”

“Oh, all right.” She made herself comfortable.

Bob started the car, then clicked the remote control. The garage door slid silently up; he put the car in reverse, and it rolled backward and onto the street without revving the engine. He closed the garage door and drove down the street, past the van, with his lights off. As he passed the vehicle, the driver looked up and saw his car, then started the van.

Bob drove slowly down the street and didn’t turn on his lights until he reached the corner and turned uptown. He looked back and saw the van stopped in the street, as the two men checked out the tires. “They won’t be giving chase,” he said.

“Listen,” Sherry said, “as long as I’m in your lap...”