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:
Sykes came out of the house, motioned her into the Explorer, and got in behind the wheel. Four others were getting into the van. Eugene and Earl were among them. The other two were Rod and Jimmy, to whom she had barely spoken.
Sykes drove away in silence. Soon they were on the interstate, driving north.
“You know,” Bess said, “when you invited me aboard I thought that you had some respect for my intelligence.”
“What makes you think I don’t?” Sykes asked.
“Your reluctance to confide the details of what we’re doing. I don’t like working in the dark.”
“You should know by now that I’m very security-conscious.”
“Obviously. Are the others better informed than I?”
“I inform whoever, whenever I think they need to know. You and I aren’t there yet, but will be fairly soon, I suspect.”
Bess thought it was time to press the point. “I just want you to know that I’m through taking blind orders. If you don’t feel you can confide in me, then just drop me at the nearest place I can get a cab or a bus, and I won’t trouble you further. You needn’t be concerned about me talking, since I don’t know anything.”
There was a long silence. “Fair enough,” he said finally.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally, she would make some progress.
“There’s a rest stop a couple of miles up the road. I’ll drop you there, and you can call a cab.”
“As you wish,” she said, steadying her voice so as not to sound disappointed.
He pulled into the rest stop and parked. “Go use the ladies’ room. When you come back, I’ll brief you. Take ten minutes. I want to talk to the lads.”
“Shall I take my luggage?”
“You can leave it here. I trust you, Bess.”
“Thank you.” She got out of the Explorer and went into the ladies’ side of the restroom. She checked all the booths, then locked herself into the one farthest from the sink, got out her burner phone, and called Tom Blake’s burner.
“Yes?”
“It’s me,” she said.
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
“Listen. I’m going to talk fast because I may be interrupted.”
“I know you’re at a rest stop.”
“Right. I had forgotten. We’re headed for New York. Sykes and I are staying at the Lowell on East Sixty-third Street. He wouldn’t tell me what he’s planning, so I said if he didn’t trust me I wanted out. Now he says he does. Elroy, the cook, told me he’s with another agency. Do you know if that’s true?”
“It is. His name is Leroy Collins, and he’s CIA.”
“Good. We didn’t have a chance to talk further.”
“Why are you going to New York?”
“Sykes relented and said he would brief me when I get back into the car. Should I continue?”
“Yes. I’ve no reason to believe you’re in danger. I’m in New York. When you learn your room number at the Lowell, leave a message for me, and I’ll send you some things.”
She checked her watch. “I have to go now.”
“Right. I’ll try to arrange a meeting.”
“Okay.” She hung up and tucked the phone in the lining of her handbag, then she flushed the toilet and left the booth. There was one elderly woman in the restroom, washing her hands.
Tom made a phone call. “Sykes and Bess will be staying at the Lowell Hotel, Sixty-third and Madison. I want the manager visited personally by a senior agent, who should work to gain the cooperation of that person to the extent of getting video and audio equipment installed. He should also rent an adjoining room or suite or, if one is not available, urge the transfer of another guest. That failing, take the nearest space available. Apply for a search warrant immediately. You have less than two hours before their arrival.” He hung up.
Sykes had the motor running when she got back to the car. In a minute, they were back on the interstate, with the van following. “Did you talk to the boys?” she asked.
“I did.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them that I trust you and that you are an equal member of our team.”
“To whom does the team report?”
“To me.”
“And to whom do you report?”
He hesitated for a moment. “I report directly to God,” he said, finally.
“Oh, good. I’d like to sit in on your next meeting.”
“Trust me, he wouldn’t like you.”
“Because I’m a lesbian?”
“Among other things.”
“What are the other things?”
“Mainly, your tendency to ask too many questions,” he said firmly.
They drove on in silence.
45
Stone was still meeting with Tom Blake and Bill Wright when a small, red light blinked over the door that led to the garage. “She’s here,” Stone said.
They all got to their feet a second before Holly bustled in, carrying shopping bags. “Evening, all,” she said. “Who do I have to beat up to get a drink around here?”
“That would be me,” Stone said, moving to the bar. “But be gentle.”
“Some of that filthy bourbon you drink,” she said.
Stone poured them both one.
“Gentlemen,” Holly said, “I command you to drink an alcoholic beverage.”
“As long as you put it that way,” Tom said. “I’ll try your bourbon, too, Stone.”
“As will I,” Bill said.
The door opened and Claire Dunn entered, carrying more shopping bags. She had become the de facto bodyguard for Holly.
“You’re drinking, too, Claire,” Holly said.
“It’s an order from the top,” Bill said.
Claire dropped her bags. “Can you make a martini, Stone?”
“It’s one of my many virtues,” Stone replied, then reached into a freezer drawer for a bottle he had premixed and poured her one. He dropped two olives stuffed with anchovies into the glass and handed it to her.
Bill raised his glass. “The next administration,” he said, and they all drank.
Holly took the chair next to Stone’s. “If we’re going to talk shop, we’d better do it before the booze kicks in,” she said.
“Tom,” Bill said, “you’re here to fill us in on your end.”
“Fortunately, I have more to report than I would have had a few hours ago,” Tom said. “To sum it up, we’re dealing with a five-man unit of domestic terrorists who have apparently been organized for the express purpose of preventing the president-elect from becoming president. Their leader is a retired Army colonel, Wade Sykes, who resigned from the service under a cloud when he was found to be distributing white-supremacist literature among some of his command. There are four other members residing at his compound in Virginia. We have first names only: Eugene, Earl, Rod, and Jimmy. There are also two others who are not residents there but visit regularly. One of them, unbeknownst to Sykes, is a female special agent of the FBI; the other is an African-American who cooks at the compound and is a member of the CIA.”
“What interest does the CIA have in all this?” Bill asked. “They’re off their turf, aren’t they?”
“I had lunch today with Lance Cabot to ask him just that, but I failed in my mission when lunch was cut short.”
“As lunch with Lance often is,” Stone remarked.
“Since Stone is a special advisor to Lance,” Tom said, “I will ask him to get us an answer to that question.”
“I’ll do my best,” Stone said.
“Thus far, there have been three attempts on the president-elect’s life. All, I’m glad to say, have been unsuccessful. You all know about the Maine incident and last week’s shooting of the dummy in the family quarters of the White House.”
There was a murmur of assent.