Стюарт Вудс - Class Act

“If anyone, for any reason, makes an attempt to harm me, I am going to assume that he has been instructed by you, do you understand?”

Trafficante nodded. “Yes, I understand. You will have no further trouble from me.”

“I could doubt your word and shoot you in both knees now, just to prove that I can.”

“Please, don’t do that. I give you my word you will have no further trouble.”

“Good. Remember, I can find you anywhere and kill or cripple you at will.”

“I will remember.”

“Sit there for five minutes before you move again,” Stone said. He stepped out of the bathroom, walked across the bedroom, down the hall, and locked the door to the adjoining suite, then let himself out the front door and closed it behind him, turning over the card on the doorknob to read, service, please. It wouldn’t hurt Trafficante to have another unexpected visitor.

He let himself into the Gilbert & Sullivan suite, picked up the phone, and ordered lunch.

Stone had eaten his lunch and was having a nap on the bed when his cell phone rang. “Yes?”

“It’s Jeffers. Mr. T. has checked out of the hotel. The doorman tells me a car was waiting to take him to RAF Northam, a military base to the west of London that also accepts corporate aircraft. I have a man following him, and I will be in touch.”

“Excellent.”

“By the way, I don’t know what went on in there, but you apparently scared the shit out of him. He looked terrible.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Stone hung up.

Less than an hour later, the cell rang again. “Yes?”

“It’s Jeffers. Mr. T. has boarded a corporate jet and has taken off. The pilot filed for Teterboro, New Jersey, flight time about seven hours. He has a bit of a headwind today.”

“Thank you once again, Mr. Jeffers. I shall let Dame Felicity know that your work was outstanding.”

“Thank you, sir, anytime.” Jeffers hung up.

Stone called Tara’s cell.

“Hello, there!”

“Are you all shopped out?”

“Not quite.”

“Dinner at the Savoy this evening?”

“Yes, please.”

“When you’re done, take a cab to the Savoy. We’re in the Gilbert & Sullivan suite. The subject of our interest has checked out and fled for New York.”

“Oh, good. Another hour?”

“Fine.” They both hung up.

They left the Savoy the following day at mid-morning, after reading a note from the front desk, addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Withers, that their bill had already been settled. The trunk of the Porsche was filled with shopping bags, and the two rear seats — apparently intended for legless children — were jammed, too.

They had finished lunch at Windward Hall, and most of the group were napping, when Stone, sitting in the library, got a cell phone call. The caller ID read: Private . “Yes?”

“What did you do to him?” a female voice asked.

“What?”

“He got in around midnight and immediately beat the shit out of me. I’ll have to have a professional makeup artist in today so I can work my closing show tonight at the Carlyle. And I have to see a dentist to have a temporary crown installed to plug a gap.”

“Hilda,” Stone said, “you should start being more discriminating in your choice of male company.”

“It’s a little late for that,” she said. “He’s insanely possessive. He’ll never let me go.”

“If you want to run and hide, I’ll help.”

“Where are you?”

“I left London this morning, outward bound.”

“Still on the other side of the Atlantic?”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Why are you being so cagey with me?”

“Because the last time I trusted you, I found your boyfriend on my tail. Do you blame me?”

She ignored that. “You said you could help me run. Run where?”

“I have a house in Maine with caretakers. The caretakers can make you comfortable.”

“How do I get there?”

“Rent a car. It’s an eight-hour drive and a ten-minute ferry ride.”

“Suppose he knows about that house?”

“If he thinks I’m there he won’t intrude, believe me. Our meeting yesterday frightened him badly.”

“And he took it out on me.”

“You have only yourself to blame.”

“Will you be going to Maine?”

“No. I’ll be occupied elsewhere.”

“You mean you’re fucking someone else.”

“So are you.”

“How long can I stay there?”

“Up to you. Stay until you feel safe going elsewhere.”

“I’m not a very good driver. I don’t like driving long distances.”

“I also have a house in Key West. There are nonstop flights. And the potatoes are too small there to attract goombahs.”

“Is it private?”

“Yes, and you need never leave the house. The housekeeper will see to your meals.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Figure it out.” Stone hung up.

Dino came into the library.

“No nap?”

“I couldn’t sleep, worrying about you.”

Stone laughed. “I’ll bet.”

“How did it go yesterday?”

“Let’s just say that Mr. Trafficante and I met yesterday and came to terms.”

“You reasoned with him? He doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.”

“I think it helped that I had a silenced pistol pointed at his head, which made him more reasonable. It didn’t hurt, either, that he was on the toilet with his pants around his ankles. I think that made him feel more vulnerable. Also, now he believes I can find him anywhere.”

“That’s good news.”

“Unfortunately, when he got home, he took it out on Hilda. She was on the phone a minute ago, complaining about being beaten up.”

“Why doesn’t she just get out?”

“She has one more performance at the Carlyle. After that, I’ve offered her either the Maine or the Key West house.”

“You didn’t offer her the L.A. place at the Arrington?”

“I don’t want her to get too comfortable; she might not want to leave.”

“Good point. Did she take you up on the offer?”

“She’ll think about it and let me know.”

As if on cue, Stone’s cell phone rang.

“Yes?”

“All right, Key West.”

Stone gave her the address. “Take a cab. I’ll let the housekeeper know you’re coming.”

“How will I amuse myself?”

“There are books and TV. If you get bored, there’s always autoeroticism. But I wouldn’t go looking for companionship; you might be spotted.”

“So I have to be imprisoned the whole time.”

“You can do whatever you damned well please,” Stone said, “but don’t get blood or brains on the furniture. Goodbye.” He hung up.

Dino was laughing. “I’ll bet she doesn’t get many invitations like that one.”

“I think we can safely return to New York now,” Stone said. “How about we have dinner at the Squadron tonight and take off around eleven tomorrow morning? That’ll get us home from Teterboro before rush hour.”

“Sounds good,” Dino said.

Viv and Tara came into the room. “What’s the plan?” Viv asked.

“Go back upstairs and change for a black-tie dinner; we’re dining at the Royal Yacht Squadron, departing our dock at five-thirty. Tomorrow, wheels up at eleven am for New York.”

“Is it safe now?”

“As safe as I know how to make it,” Stone replied. He called the Key West housekeeper, then Faith, explained their travel plans, then went upstairs to change for dinner.

At a little after six o’clock, Stone docked the boat at the little marina next to the Squadron, and they walked up to the castle. Stone gave Tara the tour, then they all sat down for drinks.

Stone was sipping from the supply of Knob Creek he had bestowed to the club, when his cell phone rang, ID: Private . He stepped out onto the terrace, where the view was of a group of yachts maneuvering for the start of a race.