Stuart Woods: Below the Belt

“Oh, shit, the strong case!” Holly said, and ran out the door. She came back a moment later with the case. “He remembered.”

A salesman approached and started showing them safes. “I like the tall, skinny one,” Stone said.

“Good choice. It will take up less than half a closet.”

“Stone set the strong case inside it, and it fit, with room to spare. “Can you deliver it to Tesuque this afternoon?”

“We close at five — say, five-thirty, six o’clock?”

Stone gave him the address, directions, and a credit card. “Oh,” he said, “can you call a cab for us? Going to the Mercedes dealership.”

“Certainly.”

The Cayenne sat out front, gleaming, and the salesman came outside. “Here’s your paperwork and spare key,” he said, “including the original window sticker with the options list. It’s loaded to the gills.”

Stone went over the list. Umber, with cognac and espresso leather; and, seemingly, every possible option.

“We’re giving you a year’s subscription to the satellite radio and a tank of gas.”

Stone shook the man’s hand, then he put the case into the trunk and pulled the cover over it, got into the car and drove away.

“You’re going to love it,” Holly said.

“Let’s get some lunch. Santacafé okay?”

“You’re my guide, I’ll trust you.”

They drove to the restaurant and were given a table in the garden, where Stone could keep an eye on his new car and its contents. They ordered margaritas and some lunch.

“Who do you think was following you?”

“I don’t know,” Stone said, “but nobody was following me yesterday or the day before or last week, and the only thing that’s changed since then is the presence of that strong case.”

“Uh-oh,” Holly replied.

They were about to have a drink when the doorbell rang, and Stone found a van backed up to his front door. The salesman and another man got the safe onto a dolly and wheeled it down to where Stone stood before a double-doored hall closet.

“Right here,” Stone said.

“Looks good,” the salesman said. The two men rolled the safe into the closet. “Right about here?” The tall, thin safe took up only a quarter of the closet.

“That’s fine.”

They muscled it off the dolly, and the man tapped in a code and opened the door. “We should fix it to the floor with lug bolts,” he said.

Stone left them to drill from inside the safe, then wrench the lug bolts through the flagstone floor and into the concrete pad.

“There you go,” the salesman said. “Let me set up the lock for a code.” He tapped a long number into the keypad and closed the door. “Here’s how it goes,” he said. “You tap in a six-digit code, then press pound, then tap in the code again. If you make a mistake you’ll get a red light, so you’ll have to start over. If you don’t make a mistake, you’ll get a green light, then just turn the wheel to the left to lock the safe. After that, your code will open it.”

Stone followed the man’s instructions, then locked the safe, then reopened it with his code. He thanked the men, handed them a fifty for a beer on him, and saw them to the door. He came back, opened the safe, stowed the strong case inside it, closed the door, and turned the wheel. “Safe at last,” he said. “Let’s have a drink.” Holly was nowhere to be seen. He heard a whining noise from the kitchen; he went there and found her mincing something in a Cuisinart.

“What’s that?”

“Ginger.”

“What for?”

“I’m going to make you a Southern Baptist.”

“Too late, I’m already an Episcopalian, nominally.”

“A Southern Baptist is also a cocktail — ginger juice, sugar, and rye whiskey.”

“Sounds awful.”

She poured the ingredients into a cocktail shaker, shook it until it was too cold to hold, then filled two martini glasses and handed one to Stone. “Taste it.”

Stone did. “That’s wonderful,” he said.

Holly brought her own glass to a sofa in front of the fireplace, and Stone lit the fire.

“Why are you an Episcopalian?” Holly asked.

“Two reasons. First, my mother was, and she took me to church. My father, in addition to being a communist, was a confirmed atheist.”

“What’s the other reason?”

“The Episcopalian motto — ‘Almost everything in moderation.’”

She laughed. “It’s good to have an out, huh?”

“It’s absolutely essential. Do you have a religion?”

“I’m a Southern Baptist.”

“The cocktail or the church?”

“I’m an army brat. Everybody was a Southern Baptist. There are no outs in the faith, you just have to make your own.”

“This is a little on the spicy side,” he said, holding up the golden liquid and inspecting it.

“It’s the fresh ginger.”

“Ah. I’ve never had a drink with ginger in it.”

“I’ve never seen you drink anything but Knob Creek and vodka gimlets.”

“They have sufficed for lo, these many years,” Stone said. “Until now. I think I’ll have to add the Southern Baptist to my repertoire.”

Stone’s cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“I expect you can tell who this is without mentioning any names,” Will Lee said.

“I believe I can do that. Sorry about disappearing.”

“We understood when they found your car. It’s safely back with the rental people. Well, maybe not safely.”

“That’s the thing about large rocks in the road. I found what’s-her-name freezing on my doorstep.”

“I’m sorry about that. The agent must have thought she’d have a key.”

“She took a while to forgive me, but eventually...”

“I’m glad. Listen, I’ve had some troubling news. This morning, our friend up the mountain was left alone in his back garden for a few minutes, and while he was there, a man approached and the two of them had a conversation. They were spotted by an agent from upstairs, but by the time the man reached our friend, the visitor had departed, and since there were only two men on duty, they didn’t have the manpower to organize a search.”

“Our friend wasn’t harmed, I hope.”

“No, not at all. What is troubling is that our friend apparently believed he had been conversing with you.”

“I haven’t been back up there.”

“I figured.”

“Does anyone have any idea who the visitor was?”

“No, none at all.”

“What did he and our friend discuss?”

“According to him, they discussed your visit last night and what transpired at that time. Where is the item?”

“I bought a large safe, and it’s safely locked inside. The safe is bolted to the concrete and stone floor.”

“That’s good. Have you had any unexpected attention from anyone?”

“This morning we left the house to go into town to buy a car and the safe. Our driver, who was a former cop, picked up on two cars, probably rental Toyotas, following us.”

“Do they know where you live?”

“I’m not sure. The phone isn’t listed in my name here yet, and we didn’t notice the two Toyotas until we were downtown, so I don’t think they followed us from the house. Certainly, they didn’t follow us back, since our driver had lost them, and we returned home in my new car.”

“How long do you intend to remain there?”

“We’ve no definite plans.”

“If you receive any further unwanted attention, I think you should relocate.”

“Relocate where?”

“Anywhere but there.”

“Is there a number where I can reach you?”

“No, I’m on someone else’s cell phone. If you want to get in touch, call the White House switchboard and leave a message, and I’ll call your cell number on a secure line.”