Стюарт Вудс - Desperate Measures

“Bacchetti.”

Muldoon gave him a complete report. “That’s it,” he said finally.

“What was your impression of Michael Adams?”

“Straightforward, not nervous, truthful.”

Dino thanked the detectives and hung up. “Well, you heard it. What do you think?”

Stone shrugged. “I think there are two possibilities,” he said. “One: there was a third killer and he’s still at large. Two: the third killer was Mike Adams.”

“Kind of a coincidence that he was there, isn’t it?” Dino asked. “But is there a third killer?”

“There sort of has to be, doesn’t there?” Stone asked.

“I guess.”

“Why else would a man be at or near the murder scene, wearing black coveralls and a mask?”

Dino picked up Faith’s gun from the table, pulled back the slide, and sniffed it. “It’s been fired,” he said.

Faith spoke for the first time in a while. “I didn’t fire it at a ghost or a mirror.”

“I think you need to put Mike Adams under surveillance,” Stone said. “The building, too.”

“We’ve disbanded that task force,” Dino replied. “I’m short on manpower.”

“Do you have an alternative?” Stone asked.

“No,” Dino replied.

Stone reassembled the dinner party in his study, just in time for it to break up. The Whitehorn sisters had been waiting for nearly an hour, consoled only by the cognac bottle.

“I’m going to send you home with my driver,” Stone said to the sisters. He saw them to the garage and attempted to kiss them both on the cheek, but Caroline, at the last moment, turned her head and kissed him on the lips.

“No fair!” her sister said, then they got into the Bentley, arguing.

Chalk up a point for Caroline, Stone thought.

Dino and Viv were still in the study with Faith. Dino was finishing his brandy. “I think you’d better reinstate Faith’s security,” he said.

“Oh, no,” Faith said wearily.

“There’s still a killer, or at the very least a conspirator, on the loose,” Dino said, “and he’s seen you and knows you’re armed. And we don’t have any evidence to support arresting Mike Adams.”

“What about the radio?”

“There are thousands of radios like that in this city,” Dino said. “Possessing one is not a crime, and neither is listening to public radio.”

“Dino’s right,” Stone said. “Viv, will you take care of the security?”

Viv picked up her cell phone. “I’ll call the duty officer.” She spoke briefly, then hung up. “They’ll be here at eight AM tomorrow,” she said.

“Here we go again,” Faith said.

“Tell you what,” Stone said. “Why don’t you call Pat Frank in the morning and ask her for a copilot, then go fly for a while? That’ll get you off the streets, and you need some left-seat time after your hospital stay.”

Faith brightened. “That sounds good.” She stood up. “I’m turning in.” She reassembled her gun and slipped it into her coat pocket, then left the room.

“That kid has been through a lot,” Dino said.

Nobody disagreed with him.

As Dino left Stone’s house he looked across the street and saw a street-sweeping machine coming down the block, which was empty of cars due to the alternate-side parking rules. Then, right behind the sweeper, a black SUV turned onto the block and stopped at the curb, several houses up from Stone’s.

Dino got into the front passenger seat of his official car and picked up the radio.

“Yes, sir?”

Dino gave them the address. “There’s a black SUV parked on the opposite side of the street. I want a patrol car to block the street above it and another to block the street at the corner of Second Avenue.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait here a minute,” Dino said to his driver, then he called Stone.

“Forget something?”

“You might want to come out and get into the rear seat of my car, and come armed. There’s what looks like a black Mercedes SUV parked across your street and up a little.”

“Be right down,” Stone said. He ran downstairs, opened his safe, and retrieved a Terry Tussey custom.45, then grabbed two magazines, hurried out the front door, and got into Dino’s car.

“Okay,” Stone said, shoving in a magazine, slapping it home, and racking the slide.

Dino picked up the radio. “Is everyone in place?”

“Affirmative, sir.”

“All right, Tim,” Dino said, “drive down the block and stop sideways. Leave no clearance for a car to get past, and turn off your lights.”

Tim put the car in gear and pulled out, watching his rearview mirror. “He’s still there,” he said. “No, he’s pulling out, no lights.”

“Good,” Dino said. “Okay, everybody, the driver of that car should be considered armed and dangerous. Go ahead and light up everything.”

Stone saw flashing lights coming on at the corner of Second Avenue, then looked back and saw the car at Third light up. Tim drove up onto the downtown sidewalk, turned left, and stopped in the middle of the street.

Dino grabbed the front-seat shotgun. “Stone, you stay inside for backup; I don’t want you in a firefight unless we need you.”

“Shit,” Stone said, disappointed. He looked back and saw the black SUV suddenly drive onto the sidewalk, stop, see his way blocked, then execute a U-turn and accelerate toward Third Avenue. Flashing lights were in his way. He pulled onto the sidewalk to avoid the patrol car, but the cop did the same, blocking his way.

“Here we go,” Dino said into the radio, then opened his door and jumped out, shotgun at the ready.

Stone saw Donald Trask get out of his car, his hands up. He was immediately overwhelmed by cops from both ends of the street.

Five minutes later, the block was restored to normalcy.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” Dino said, then he and Viv drove away.

Stone went upstairs and to bed.

He was awakened by the phone just after six AM.

“Bad news,” Dino said.

“Give it to me.”

“Trask was unarmed. The most we could charge him with was an illegal U-turn and driving the wrong way on a one-way street.”

“Thanks, Dino, that was a great way to start the day.”

He hung up.

Stone was at his desk later when Faith walked in. “I just wanted you to know, I’m going to Bloomingdale’s. I’ve alerted my forces, and Fred is out front.”

“I’ll go with you,” Stone said. “The elastic on my boxer shorts is giving out, and I need some new ones.”

“Suit yourself,” she said. “Oh, and I’m flying this afternoon.”

Stone got up and joined her.

Fred pulled up at the Third Avenue Bloomie’s entrance, and Stone and Faith got out. “How long will you be?” Stone asked her.

“I don’t know, hours maybe.”

“I’ll get a cab home. See you.” Stone went inside the store, to the ground-floor haberdashery department, found the boxer shorts, picked out a dozen, paid for them, and got them stuffed into a shopping bag.

He was just leaving the store when someone shouted his name.

Stone didn’t know where the voice was coming from and looked around.

“Mr. Barrington!” came the call again.

Stone finally realized that it was coming from the uniformed doorman, who walked over with his hand out.

“It’s Eddie,” the man said. “Remember me?”

“The face is familiar, but you’re in the wrong uniform,” Stone replied.

“Ah, yes, it should be the Carlyle uniform. I helped you get Ms. Scott up to her apartment in a wheelchair, remember?”

“Of course, Eddie, the uniform confused me.”

“I moonlight over here a couple days a week.” Eddie looked sad. “I want to offer my sympathy over the loss of your friend,” he said. “Ms. Scott was a very nice lady, always good to me.”