Stuart Woods - Below the Belt

“Well, I’ve decided I love it, too, so I’m going to take it off the market with immediate effect.”

“Certainly, sir. I’ll move the file to our inactive list.”

“Just shred the file, and we’ll say no more about it. Thanks very much. Oh, and don’t forget to pick up your sign.” He hung up. On the drive home from shopping, he had begun to feel like a free man. He got up and walked around the house, opening the blinds and curtains, letting the light in. What the hell, he thought, what do I care if they know I’m here? I’m not going to spend the rest of my life running from these bastards.

He called the phone company on his cell and asked them to reinstate his old number, and an hour later it was working. He was reading the Washington Post when the doorbell rang. He got up, took his pistol from its hiding place, and tucked it into his waistband at the back, pulling his sweater over it. When he opened the door a man in white coveralls stood there.

“Good morning,” Ed said.

“Good morning,” the man replied with a ready smile. “We’re doing some window-washing in the neighborhood, and I wondered if you’d like us to do yours. I’d be happy to look around and give you a price, inside and out.”

“Thanks, but I have a contract with a local firm that takes care of the place, including the windows.”

“I see.”

“Apparently not. If you’d seen, you’d know the windows are clean.”

“Oh, yeah, right. May I ask your name?”

“No, you may not. Good day.” Ed closed the door and watched through the sidelight as the man walked away. Ed noted that he was wearing well-polished wingtips, instead of the rubber boots a window washer would more likely wear. Well, he thought, I’ve now announced my presence here, let’s see what they do about it. He went back into his study and picked up his book, Conrad Black’s biography of Franklin Roosevelt, which he thought was pretty damned good.

He had been reading for nearly two hours when his phone rang, nearly lifting him out of his seat; he had forgotten that it had been reconnected. He picked it up. “Hello?”

“Mr. Rawls, I’m glad to catch you,” a man’s voice said.

“Who is this?”

“My name is Erik Macher. I operate a security service out of Washington, D.C.”

“I’ve already got an alarm system and a monitor,” Rawls replied.

“No, I’m not calling about that.”

“Then tell me why you’re calling, and stop wasting my time.”

“I wish to make you an offer for the strong case.”

“What strong case?”

“The one you have hidden in your house. I have a client who is willing to pay you half a million dollars for the case and its key.”

“Then your client is a goddamned fool,” Rawls replied, “and you can tell him I said so.”

“That’s very foolish of you,” Macher said.

“I’m old enough to figure out for myself whether or not I’m a fool,” Rawls said, “and I find myself of sound mind and superior judgment. What was your name again?”

“Erik with a k , Macher, spelled the German way.”

“I’ll make a note of that so I can hang up on you immediately if you should call back,” Ed said. “And if you send your fucking window washer around here again, I’ll shoot the son of a bitch on sight.”

“That would be unwise.”

“I’ll tell you what’s unwise,” Ed said, “burning down my house, that’s what. But I appreciate your calling, because now I know who the bastard is who did it. Tell me, do you have a nice house somewhere that I can burn down for you? And I promise not to leave a corpse in the living room.” Ed hung up.

He was angry, and he needed to blow off some steam. He looked up the number of the builder in Islesboro who had built his house there.

“Bill Haynes,” the man said.

“Bill, it’s Ed Rawls. How you doing?”

“Just fine, Ed. I heard about your house.”

“Yeah, so did I. You want to rebuild it for me?”

“Sure, glad to.”

“You still got the plans?”

“Yep.”

“Well, get out there and get to work. By the way, there’s a secret cellar next door, with a tunnel running from the house. I’d like that sealed off, please. It’s of no further use to me.”

“It will be done.”

“How long is it going to take to finish the place?”

“Well, let’s see, I’ll get some people out there tomorrow to clean up what’s there, and, assuming the pad is in good shape, we’ll start framing early next week. After that, I’ll need a couple of months, I guess, if you want it built exactly like before.”

“I do.”

“Then I’m on it, Ed. It’s going to cost you more per square foot than it did when I built it the first time, but that’s just inflation.”

“I’m okay with that. Give me a price.”

Haynes did.

“Agreed. You can send me a contract at my place in Virginia.” He gave the man the address and phone number. “Call if you have any questions as you proceed.”

The two men said goodbye and hung up. Ed felt better than he had in weeks. He went to the little study bar and poured himself a drink, then turned on the TV. The satellite was still working; he had forgotten to turn off that service. He switched to the D.C. CBS station for the news, just in time to see a promo for 60 Minutes . They were devoting the entire show to Nelson Knott. He went to the listings and set the show to be recorded on the DVR.

This is going to be interesting, he thought.

Stone and Holly took an afternoon run, and when they got back to the house the message light was flashing on his phone. “Don’t miss 60 Minutes tomorrow,” Will Lee’s voice said. “If you’re going out, be sure and record it. I’ll be in town tomorrow. I’ll call you for lunch.”

“What’s on 60 Minutes ?” Holly asked.

Stone switched on the TV and looked it up. “Financial skullduggery, baseball, and children with wild pets.”

“I wonder which of those Will found so fascinating.”

“We have only to wait until Sunday at seven to see.”

“By the way, I’m headed back to Washington tomorrow,” Holly said. “Maybe I can get a ride with Will. Will you ask him?”

“Have you served your sentence already?”

“Almost. I’ve got some things to do around the house that I’ve been postponing for nearly four years. Here’s my chance to do them without guilt.”

They got undressed and into the shower together. Somehow, being clean was a turn-on for them both. When they had exhausted each other they talked.

“Here’s a thought,” Stone said. “Don’t go back to Washington at all.”

“That’s a surprising thought.”

“After all, they’ve had time to forget about you at the White House. If you didn’t go back they’d never miss you.”

“Thank you so much, what a compliment!”

“I’d rather have you here with me.”

“On what basis?”

“All the sex I can manage at my advanced age.”

“And that’s it? That’s all you want from me?”

“Didn’t I mention marriage?”

“You did not.”

“Funny, I thought I did.”

“You could mention it now, if you’re so inclined.”

“All right, marriage.”

“What about it?”

“Doing it.”

“Doing it is sex, not marriage.”

Stone searched for the words: “Marriage, together.”

“You just can’t bring yourself to say the words, can you?”

“If I do, will you accept?”

“Try it and see.”

“Oh, all right. Will you marry me?”

“No.”

“You were just leading me on, weren’t you?”

“Certainly not. I just needed to know your clear intentions before—”