Stuart Woods - Below the Belt

They had just finished lunch when Stone’s phone rang. The calling number was blocked.

Stone turned on the speaker so Holly could hear. “Hello?”

“It’s me. You called?” Will Lee said.

“I did. The kettle is coming to a boil around here.”

“Are you in the north?”

“Yes. Last night two men in suits and ties were observed taking a close interest in my house, and this morning, two such men rang my doorbell and introduced themselves as FBI agents. Do you know why the FBI would have any interest in me?”

“No. What did they want?”

“They said they were investigating a report of the theft of a piece of luggage, and they mentioned our friend on the mountainside and asked about our conversation.”

“Who have you been talking to around there?”

“Here’s a complete list — a female person of your acquaintance, a former government employee who lives here, Whit Saltonstall, the editor of the New York Times , and the publisher of Vanity Fair , all of whom I saw at dinner last evening on the yacht belonging to Christian St. Clair.”

“What an interesting group.”

“Yes, they were.”

“At the dinner, did anyone inquire about the luggage?”

“No.”

“Did our friend’s name come up?”

“Only when we learned of his death.”

“Yes, we’re very sad here about that.”

“Was there anything unusual about his death?”

“He collapsed in his garden after breakfast yesterday. The local medical examiner said the cause of death was neurological damage associated with Alzheimer’s.”

“Do you know if that is a typical cause of death in someone at his stage of the disease?”

“I know it’s a neurological illness, and that eventually some, perhaps many, Alzheimer’s victims die of it.”

“Can you think of anyone to whom our friend’s existence might have been a threat?”

“Among politicians he had fewer enemies than most. Still...”

“Does a name come to mind?”

“Anyone, I suppose, who fears that the contents of the package might become known. Is it secure?”

“Yes. I have obtained the means to open it. Should I?”

“I suggest not. Your situation might become more dangerous if it were thought that you were familiar with the contents.”

“Why didn’t you mention that at the outset?”

“I’m very sorry, this was to have been a simple matter, and I did not anticipate the ensuing complications.”

“Can I send it to you?”

“Absolutely not. It would have to pass through too many layers of inspection. Also, it should not be mailed or sent by commercial shipper.”

“Can you send someone to relieve me of it?”

“I have no such person at my disposal.”

“So I’m stuck with it?”

“I’m sorry, but yes, for the time being.”

“How about if I just dump it in Penobscot Bay?”

“It would send out a signal that would trigger alarms.”

“Swell.”

“If you will be patient, I will try to find another means of securing it. In the meantime, do not, repeat, not give it to your neighbor. Is that clear?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“I know this is inconvenient, and I apologize for that. Goodbye.” Will hung up.

Holly looked at him with curiosity. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell him that Ed Rawls has cached all the source materials of what’s in the strong case.”

“At the moment, if what Ed has told us is true, you and I are the only people besides him who are aware of that.”

“And you’re afraid Will might tell somebody else?”

“We don’t know who else Will has talked to about this. Kate? Members of his staff? He may be taking advice from some source we’re not aware of, and anyway, I don’t see how it’s in anybody’s legitimate interest to know what Ed has in that former swimming pool.”

“Well, it sure doesn’t seem that it’s in our interest to know about it. I wish Ed had never told us.”

“I’d rather know it than not know it. That way, if I come to lose the strong case, at least I know there’s a backup.”

An hour later, as Stone was reading the Times , his phone rang again. “Hello?”

“I’ve done some checking,” Will said, “and I am reliably informed that yesterday and today there is a regional meeting of some northeastern FBI personnel taking place in Boston and that, at this moment, there is not a single FBI agent present in the state of Maine. That’s all I can tell you at the moment.”

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye.” They both hung up.

“What was that?” Holly said.

“The voice of doom.” He told her what Will had said.

“Oh, shit,” she replied. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

“I’m not opposed to that, I just don’t know where to go.”

“New York?”

“An obvious place to look for me.”

“Your place in England or Paris?”

“Do you have your passport?” Stone asked.

“No.”

“Neither do I, and I don’t particularly want to wait for it to be sent.”

She thought for a moment. “I can think of one place we can go — it’s comfortable and, I expect, secure.”

Stone brightened. “Christian St. Clair’s yacht?”

“Exactly.”

Stone found the card that St. Clair had given him and called the number.

“Stone? What a nice surprise to hear from you.”

“Thank you, Christian. Holly and I wanted to thank you for your wonderful hospitality last evening. We had a fine time.”

“We were all delighted to see you. Have you looked into the possibility of joining our cruise?”

“We have, and we’d be delighted to.”

“Are you still in Islesboro?”

“We are.”

“We’re anchored in North Haven. I’ll send a launch for you.”

“That’s fine. They can come to my dock — it’s one down from the yacht club’s jetty.”

“I should think they could be there in, say, two hours?”

“That’s good. You can have them call me when they’re a few minutes out, and we’ll meet them on the dock.”

“I’ll do that. Bring your mess kit and whatever else you may need.”

“We’ll do that.”

“See you for dinner, then.”

“Good.” They hung up. “The launch will be here in two hours,” he said to Holly.

“Great. Have you thought about what to do with the strong case?”

“Yes, I’m going to leave it in the safe here. Certainly I’m not going to carry it around.”

“What about Bob?” Bob’s tail began beating against the floor at the mention of his name.

“Seth and Mary will take care of him. They’re already in love.”

“I’d better go pack.” She ran upstairs.

Stone called Ed Rawls’s number and got the usual recorded message. At the beep he said, “Ed, we’re going away for a few days. You can reach me on my cell phone, if you need to.” Then he went upstairs to pack.

Stone saw the Breeze launch coming from his back window. He checked the security system, armed it, and he and Holly left the house, locking the door behind them, and walked down to his dock. They were taken aboard with the crew’s usual dispatch, and as they settled into seats in the cabin, Stone felt his cell phone vibrate and heard a chime. That meant a text.

He checked his messages and found one with a blocked name. It read: BAD TIME TO LEAVE THE ISLAND. He showed it to Holly. “Response from Ed.”

“What do you think he means by that?” Holly asked.

“I haven’t the foggiest notion.” He texted back: TOO LATE, WE’VE DEPARTED. I’LL PROBABLY BE REACHABLE MOST OF THE TIME.

“We’ll be about an hour to North Haven,” the helmsman said. “There’s a Times and a Wall Street Journal on the table behind you.”