Stuart Woods: Below the Belt

The woods ended thirty yards from the largest, southernmost cottage, and a single light burned in what was probably the living room. Brand sat down and leaned against a tree just inside the tree line and dug a sandwich out of his kit. He sat, munching and drinking coffee from a thermos jug while the moon came up.

He finished the sandwich, then used night binoculars to sweep the property. To his surprise, he caught a movement in the moon shadow of the nearest cottage and trained his glasses there. A man sat cross-legged on the ground, leaning against the cottage, eating a sandwich and drinking coffee from a thermos jug. A short automatic weapon rested on his lap. “One guard and counting,” Brand muttered to himself. This would be a much simpler job, he reflected, if he could just put a round into that man’s head, then enter the cottage and shoot everybody. Well, at least he knew where the family was sleeping. Nobody would guard an empty cottage.

Stone finally got Mike Freeman on his cell phone in Brussels.

“Hello, Stone.”

“Hello, Mike.”

“We dropped your people last night, and all was well when I left them.”

“I’m afraid we have a problem. We’ve learned that two vehicles followed them from Cape May to Teterboro, and it’s likely that they got the tail number of your airplane and tracked it.”

“That’s bad news,” Mike said. “I think we’re going to have to increase security.”

“My very reason for calling,” Stone said.

“I’ll put six men on each shift — that way they can spread out and have a wider field of fire. I’ll also put two of them inside the cottage.”

“That sounds good.”

“I should think that any attempt would be made after dark.”

“I agree.”

“Then I’ll have everybody in place by nightfall. Is that satisfactory?”

“It is.”

“I’ll give you a ring when everything is complete.”

“Good.” Stone hung up.

The Parkers slept late; it was eleven o’clock before they were up and dressed.

There was a knock on the front door, and Hank answered it.

“Good morning, Mr. Parker,” one of the guards said. “We’re changing shifts now. I just wanted you to know.”

“Thanks very much. Say, do you know the area around the estate?”

“I grew up near here.”

“Is there some nice place in the country where we could go for lunch?”

“Yes, there’s a very cozy country pub a couple of miles up the road toward the village. It’s called the Rose & Crown, and the food is very good.”

“That sounds ideal.”

“Just turn right out the gate and you’ll come upon the pub on your left a couple of miles up. A couple of our men will go along and show you the way, then tail you wherever you go.”

“Thanks so much.” Hank went back inside. “How about lunch at a country pub?” he asked his wife and son. They were agreeable.

“Can we take Maggie?” Tommy asked.

“I expect so, the Brits like their dogs.”

Alf Brand arrived at the pub for his meeting at noon. Two of his men were already at a table in a nook by the fireplace, and he joined them. A couple of minutes later, the other two came in and sat down.

“Now listen,” Alf said, and his group turned quiet.

One of his men who faced the door put a hand on Alf’s arm and stopped him. “Don’t look now, but a man just entered the pub, and he’s casing the place. From the look of him he’s packing, and he’s a pro.”

Alf shifted his chair so that he could get the man into his peripheral vision. “Confirmed,” he said. Then, as he watched, three black people entered the pub, one of them a boy, along with another obvious pro. “The gang’s all here,” Alf said.

Across the room, one of the family’s guards kicked his partner under the table. “Group at a table next to the fireplace,” he said.

“Got ’em,” the man replied.

“Those guys are pros,” the first man said.

Mike Freeman listened carefully to the report from his man at Windward Hall, then hung up and called Stone Barrington.

“Yes, Mike?”

“Two of my men accompanied the family to a nearby pub for lunch, and they spotted five men there who were obvious pros.”

“Any trouble?”

“Not yet. They left a man to watch from a distance and the leader of the group left in a green Range Rover. He ran the plates, and the vehicle is registered to a London company owned by Christian St. Clair.”

“What steps have they taken?” Stone asked.

“They’re returning the family to their cottage soon and a crew of six will be guarding them, two in the house.”

“Do you have a recommendation?”

“I thought of moving them to the main house, but that would be just more area to patrol. I think it’s better that they stay where they are for the moment.”

“All right. Something you should know — Hank Parker is ex — special ops. He retired as a master sergeant. It might be good to arm him. He’d be an extra man for you.”

“I’ll have it done. You’d better decide if you want to leave them at Windward Hall or move them to Paris or New York.”

“Do you have a recommendation, Mike?”

“If St. Clair could follow them to Beaulieu, he could follow them anywhere, so I don’t think moving them would help. I think they’re well enough guarded, and I’d recommend leaving them where they are for at least a few more days.”

“All right, let’s do that.” Stone thanked Mike and hung up.

Stone thought about it for a few minutes, then called Lance Cabot.

“Yes, Stone?”

Stone explained what had happened and the steps he had taken.

“I think that’s sensible.”

“Did you discuss the situation with Will at your meeting?”

“Yes, briefly.”

“Did you talk about when I should have the books mailed?”

“Yes, and the answer is not yet.”

“I think I disagree. The safety of this family is at stake, and the sooner we go public, the sooner the pressure will be off them. Once the story is out, St. Clair can’t afford to harm them.”

“You have a point,” Lance said.

“What’s more, I think we should express-mail the books to the mailing list for overnight delivery.”

“Let me make a call,” Lance said, and hung up.

Stone waited impatiently for half an hour, then Lance called back.

“What’s the word?”

“I’ve had word that Nelson Knott is going to release a video announcement this afternoon, in time for the evening news shows.”

“An announcement that he’s going to run?”

“What else would he announce? That he’s not going to run?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Then I think you should overnight the books. We’ll give Knott the day to do follow-up interviews, then we’ll have it in the media’s hands in time for tomorrow’s evening news. Ed’s book will make a very nice hand grenade to toss into the mix.”

“All right. Have you made any progress with getting a DNA sample from Knott?”

“My people are working on it. I’ll keep you posted.”

“All right, you let Will know that we’re going, and I’ll let Ed Rawls know.”

“Right.” Both men hung up.

Stone called Ed and brought him up to date.

“I didn’t expect an announcement this soon,” Ed said.

“Neither did I.”

“Still, it’s good that we’re ready to go. Are you going to tell me where the books are now?”

“On their way to the post office, for overnight mail.”

“Okay.”

“Lance’s people are working on getting a DNA sample from Knott.”

“The sooner the better.”

“Gotta run.” Stone hung up and buzzed Joan.

“Yes, boss?”