Choppy Water
- Автор: Вудс Стюарт
- Серия: Stone Barrington #54
- Год: 2020
- Язык: английский
- Год: G. P. Putnam’s Sons
- ISBN: 978-0-593-18829-3
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «Choppy Water». Краткое содержание книги:
Bess pulled up a chair to the kitchen table. “I hear you’re an ex-Navy man,” she said.
“That’s right,” he replied.
“Is that where you learned to cook?”
“Nope. I learned to cook at my mama’s knee. I only cook Southern. That was all she taught me, but I don’t seem to get any complaints.”
“Certainly not from me,” Bess said. She accepted the sandwich in a brown paper bag, and Elroy opened the refrigerator door to display beer and soft drinks. She selected a diet soda and dropped it into the bag. “Thanks, Elroy, I owe you one,” she said.
“Think nothing of it,” he said, then went back to rolling biscuits.
Bess left by the back door and set a good pace for herself, following a well-worn footpath.
31
The path was steep, and Bess judged the top of the hill to be somewhere between 100 and 150 feet above the level where the compound was located.
At the top, she sat on a boulder and panted until her breathing returned to normal, then, with trepidation, she got out the cell phone. What if there was no reception up here? She turned it on and got two bars, sometimes one, sometimes none. Dicey.
She direct-dialed Tom Blake’s cell phone.
“Blake.”
“It’s me. Can you record this? It’s important.”
“Just a minute.” There were sounds of fumbling, then the line went dead.
She redialed.
“Blake.”
“I’ve got a weak signal here, so I may have to repeat myself to get it all recorded.”
“It’s recording now.”
“The man in charge has rented an apartment on the same side of the big house. The shooter will establish a firing position on the roof of that building. They’re planning the shoot for tomorrow morning when the subject often works at a desk. Got that?”
“Repeat it, just in case.”
She did so. “To continue, the weapon fires two rounds with each pull of the trigger. He will wait until the subject settles at the desk, then fire once to break or weaken the window, then once more.
“The shooter will drop his case off the back of the building, into a garden, where it will be immediately recovered and removed. He will go back to his apartment, dress in pajamas and a robe, where he will be found by searchers, reading the morning papers. He will not leave the building for a couple of days, then he’ll walk away with only a briefcase and not return. Rent is paid for two months. Got all that?”
“Hang on while I replay.” The line went dead again, and when she redialed, the signal was weaker, and the call didn’t go through. She continued to try for a couple of minutes, then stopped, not wanting to run down the battery.
She ate her sandwich and enjoyed the sun for an hour, then tried the call again. No good. She looked up and, in the distance, saw dust rising from a car on the dirt road approaching the compound. She paced off ten feet, then hid the burner phone under a rock and went back to her seat on the boulder. The car pulled into the parking area at the compound, and the colonel got out. He seemed to be looking at her, so she waved and got a wave back. He beckoned to her, and she started down the trail.
The colonel was at his desk in his study when she entered. “You wanted me?”
“What were you doing on the hilltop?” he asked.
“Enjoying the view. It’s quite a climb up there.”
“Yes, it is. Do you have a cell phone, other than the one you turned in?”
“No,” she said.
“Grab the desk and spread ’em,” he said.
She assumed the position and tried to be patient while he patted down every inch of her, spending extra time at her breasts and crotch.
“Well, there’s no cell reception out here, anyway,” he said. “Except at the hilltop.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” she said.
He opened a desk drawer. “Which phone is yours?”
“The white iPhone,” she replied, and he handed it to her.
“There’s no Wi-Fi here, unless I turn it on, which I do a couple of times a day to check e-mail.”
“Mostly, I get spam anyway,” she said, tucking the phone in a pocket.
“Don’t we all?”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go take a nap,” she said.
“No lunch?”
“Elroy made me a sandwich for my hike.”
“See you at dinner then.”
She went back to her room and turned on her iPhone. She found an e-mail from a box with her dead father’s name on it.
Mom got your card, but she complained about not being able to read your handwriting. Next time, print block letters.