Stuart Woods - Below the Belt

Ed drew back the shotgun and clipped first one, then the other on the back of his head. They both fell forward onto their faces and lay very still. He searched both men’s pockets and found keys on both of them, then he cuffed them with their own handcuffs and threw both sets of keys into the woods. He tossed their wallets into the trunk, then he turned over both men and found a cell phone and a handheld radio on each of them and tossed those into the trunk.

He pulled both men away from the car, pocketed a gun, a phone, and a radio, closed the trunk, and walked around to the driver’s side. The keys were in the ignition. He looked into the backseat and saw the strong case, then he got into the car, started the engine, and got turned around. He followed the dirt road back to the pavement, then turned left and drove to the interstate. He headed south and was now reoriented. It was a thirty-minute drive back to his house.

He slowed as he approached, then saw lights on. There wouldn’t have been so many on last night, he reckoned. He was about to drive past when he saw Lance Cabot come out of the house and sit in a rocker on the front porch. He slammed on the brakes, pulled into his driveway, and got out of the car, taking the shotgun and the strong case with him. “Good evening, Lance,” he called out, and climbed the porch steps.

Lance didn’t get up. “Good evening, Ed,” he said. “You didn’t need to bring a shotgun.”

“It’s borrowed, like the car and this stuff.” He emptied the pistol, phone, and radios onto the table beside Lance’s rocker.

“What time did they take you?”

“Very late, I think. I must have fallen asleep in my chair in the study when they rousted me and injected me with something. While I was out they must have searched the place, found my safe and got it open, and taken the strong case. Their wallets are in the trunk, if you want to know who they are.”

“Do you know who they work for?” Lance asked.

“My guess is a man named Erik Macher, runs a security service in D.C.”

“And works for Christian St. Clair. I know him. He used to be with us.”

“Could you use a drink?” Ed asked.

“I could, and something to eat, if you have it. We hadn’t got around to raiding your fridge yet.”

Ed went into the house and returned with a bottle of Talisker, ice and glasses, a slab of Brie, and a box of crackers. He set the tray on a table between the two rockers, poured them both a drink, and sat down. “Your health,” he said, raising his glass.

Lance took a big swig. “Stone called me. He couldn’t raise you.”

“I came to in the trunk of the car and managed to get the shotgun out of the rear seat. They took me to the proverbial cabin in the woods, and there the tables were turned. I left them unconscious and handcuffed. If you want them I’ll give you directions.”

“Let’s let them find their own way home,” Lance said. “It’ll be a good experience for them.”

“Right.” They ate the cheese and crackers and drank much of the scotch.

“I’d better call Stone,” Lance said finally. “He’ll be worried about you.”

“You do that,” Ed said, “and give him my best. I’m going to bed. I’d be grateful if you locked the doors behind you.”

Stone and Dino had finished dinner and were on cognac when Stone’s phone vibrated. Number blocked.

“Yes?”

“It’s Lance. Sometime in the wee hours of last night two men invaded Ed Rawls’s home, sedated him, opened his safe, and retrieved the strong case. They stuffed him in the trunk of a car and took him to a cabin in the country about thirty minutes from his house. While en route, Ed regained consciousness and managed to retrieve a shotgun from the rear seat. When they opened the trunk they were surprised to find their own shotgun pointed at them. Having cuffed the two men and thrown away the keys, Ed is now in his bed. The strong case is with him.”

“I’m relieved to hear all of that,” Stone said. “You sound a little drunk, Lance.”

“Funny, so do you.”

Stone laughed. “Does the fact that Ed still has the strong case indicate a disinterest on your part in possessing it?”

“Pretty much. As I told you before, I believe I know everything that’s in it.”

“Did you know that Nelson Knott fathered two children with black mothers, respectively seventeen and twelve years ago, and that the elder child and her mother are dead from an accident described as the mother falling asleep and striking a bridge abutment on the New Jersey Turnpike, and that the other mother and child have disappeared?”

Lance drew in a quick breath. “What evidence exists of this?”

“I have both the original birth certificates.”

“I did not know about this.”

“I didn’t think so. Also, the attorney who gave me the birth certificates earlier today was killed on his way back to Virginia in an accident described as his driver falling asleep and crashing into a bridge abutment on the interstate.”

“Have you called the police?”

“I’m sitting next to the police right now, and he’s just as drunk as I am.”

“Let me speak to Dino, please.”

Stone handed the phone to Dino. “Lance wants to speak to you.”

Dino took the phone. “Yes? Yes. Yes. I understand. Go fuck yourself, Lance.” He handed the phone back to Stone.

“Yes?”

“I tried to persuade Dino not to deal with this information in such a way that it might immediately become public knowledge.”

“I heard his answer to that request,” Stone said.

“Stone, when you and I, and perhaps Dino, have all sobered up, we should have a conference call on this subject. I believe I can convince you both that it is not in the interests of anyone, particularly the President, for this information to leak, unless we release it at just the right moment.”

“Okay, call us both at ten tomorrow morning. Dino and I should be sober by then. I don’t know about you.”

“Thank you, Stone, I’ll do that. Is there anything else?”

“Yes, there is. Ed Rawls has printed and bound two hundred copies of his manuscript and they are awaiting mailing now, addressed to as many ‘opinion makers,’ as Ed likes to describe them.”

“Jesus God. Where are they?”

“I am not at liberty to divulge that information, and neither is Ed, since he doesn’t know, himself. Perhaps you would like to include that subject in our conference call tomorrow morning. Good night, Lance.” Stone hung up.

Dino smiled. “Did Lance shit a brick?”

“I think that is not an inaccurate description of his reaction. He’s going to call us tomorrow morning at ten and beg us to come to our senses.”

They paid the bill and made their way gingerly back to Dino’s SUV. When they were inside the cop in the front passenger seat sniffed the air and said, “I should issue both you gentlemen with a summons for traveling in the rear seat of a motor vehicle while under the influence.”

“There’s no such charge,” Dino said.

“Lucky for you, Commissioner,” the cop replied.

Stone awoke an hour later than usual the following morning and managed not to throw up immediately. He drank an Alka-Seltzer, ate half his breakfast, and eventually arrived at his desk.

Joan came in with the mail. “Good morning,” she said. “You look like you were hit with a baseball bat.”

“That is an approximation of the way I feel,” Stone replied. “Do you have any aspirin?”

“How many do you want?”

“Many, please.”

She brought an aspirin bottle and set it on his desk beside a glass of water. He shook four into his hand and got them down. “I’m expecting a conference call with Lance Cabot and Dino at ten, and I’d appreciate it if you’d hold all my calls until we’re finished.”