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:
Fisk stood there in his pajamas.
“Are those Bureau-issued?” she asked.
“Come in.”
“No, you come in. Sykes has just left to do some reconnoitering, as he put it.”
“We didn’t hear anything on the wire,” he said, looking alarmed.
“Relax. I don’t wear pearls with my nightgown. Anyway, that’s all he said. Oh, he also said he’d see me for dinner. And he gave me his Amex card and put a five-thousand-dollar limit on my spending.”
“Are you attending a ball?”
“That was my response, too.”
“And what was his answer?”
“He said, ‘You never know.’”
“What do you think that means?”
“I think it means he doesn’t have a venue for an assassination yet. But I suspect he has a means of getting intelligence on that.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Just a hunch.”
“But he won’t be shooting before dinnertime.”
“Maybe not,” she replied, “but who knows?”
Fisk got a call on his cell phone, which he took from his pajama pocket. “Yes? Good. Stay on him, but be careful.” He hung up. “Sykes just left the hotel. We’re following.”
“Good, now get lost. I have to shower and dress.”
Fisk left, and she showered and dressed.
As she was about to leave her room, Fisk came back. “I see you’ve been wearing a cheap wristwatch,” he said. “I brought you a Rolex.”
“What does it do?”
“It tells time. It also performs the tasks the pearls did. Just press the stem once to turn it on and again to turn it off.”
“Got it,” she said, slipping it on. Then she left and headed off to Bloomingdale’s.
Holly sat at the head of the worktable and read through her schedule. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said to the gathered group. She went into her office and motioned for Bill Wright to follow.
He had a copy of the schedule in his hand. “Do you see what I see on this?”
“I see two opportunities,” she said. “St. Mary’s College, where I’m giving an award to a theatrical group, and the Army Intelligence Center, in New Jersey, where I’m giving a speech to the graduating class. I think Jersey looks best.”
“Maybe,” Bill replied. “Sykes and his people already have uniforms, so they can blend in out there. On the other hand, security is tight at that center, so making an escape after the fact could be a problem.”
“Which do you think?”
“I want to send people to both and thoroughly check them out.”
“I’ll look forward to your decision,” Holly said. “Now, I have to get back to work.”
Bill left, and Holly returned to the long table. “This is approved,” she said, waving the schedule. “What’s next?”
Bess was in a dressing room at Bloomingdale’s, trying on a dress, when there was a rap on the door.
“Yes?” she said, expecting a saleslady.
The door opened a crack. “Are you decent?” a male voice asked.
“Tom? Come in.”
Tom Blake walked into the booth, looking embarrassed. “Excuse me, but I need to speak to you about Sykes.”
“All right.” She turned her back to him. “Zip me up, will you?”
Tom zipped her up. “This morning, did you tell Fisk everything Sykes said to you?”
“Yes, I think so. Sykes wasn’t there long. Why do you ask?”
“We’ve lost him,” Tom said.
“Have you got people at the Army Intelligence Center and at St. Mary’s?”
“Not yet; we were supposed to follow him wherever he went.”
“Well, since we suspect him to use one of those two places, you’d better cover both, hadn’t you?”
“I’ve requested more people from New York’s FBI station.”
“Do you expect they’ll honor your request?”
“Yes, but they can be slow.”
“I’m sorry, Tom, but my next problem is which dress to buy. You’re on your own.”
Tom made to leave.
“Oh, one other thing,” she said. “Does Sykes have anyone following me?”
“We haven’t spotted anybody, but behave as though you’re being tailed.”
“In that case, you’d better not be seen leaving this dressing room, or I’ll have to scream for security.”
“Thanks for your help,” Tom said.
“Anytime.” She went back to trying on garments. She particularly liked the selection of silk blouses.
50
Wade Sykes sat in the rear seat of his SUV, wearing his class A uniform, with his colonel’s eagles on his shoulders, and waited for the traffic to move at the main gate of the Army Intelligence Center. The gate guards were looking closely at IDs and examining the trunks of visiting cars.
Eugene was at the wheel, also in his class A uniform, with its sergeant’s stripes.
Finally, they pulled to a stop at the guardhouse. The sergeant on duty spotted the eagles and snapped off a salute, which Sykes returned. “Good morning, Colonel,” the man said, peering into the car, which Eugene had taken care to clean of any items that might arouse suspicion. “IDs,” he said. Eugene handed him both his and the colonel’s, and the guard had a long look at them before handing them back. “Open the tailgate, please,” the guard said. Eugene pressed the button. The guard lifted the floorboards and had a look at and around the spare tire, then closed the tailgate. He walked back to the driver’s window and handed over the IDs. “Pass on,” he said, and Eugene did so.
“The IDs held up,” Eugene said.
“What did you expect?” the colonel asked. “They’re the real thing. If they’d run them, our photos would have popped up.”
“I guess we can’t do better than that,” Eugene replied.
Sykes consulted a map. “Second right,” he said. “The auditorium will be on your left.”
Eugene found the building and pulled into the parking lot, and both men got out.
Sykes walked to the main entrance of the building and tried the doors; they were unlocked. They passed through a large lobby area and the double doors. The empty rows of the auditorium lay before them. “It seats seven hundred fifty,” Sykes said, “and I’m sure it will be full.”
“Can we go upstairs?” Eugene asked.
The colonel led the way. “It has a projection booth.”
The booth was in the center of the last row of balcony seats. Eugene tried the door. “Locked.” He took a lockpick kit from his pocket and made quick work of getting inside. He did not turn on the lights but used a penlight. “I like this,” he said, climbing into the single seat where the projectionist could watch the movie. He looked down at the stage, then opened the small viewing window. “Ideal,” he said.
“That’s what you said about the projection room at St. Mary’s,” the colonel reminded him.
“They’re both ideal,” Eugene said. “Our uniforms and IDs give us an advantage here.”
“We’d have different uniforms at St. Mary’s, but egress is the problem at both venues,” Sykes said. “Let’s have a look.”
Eugene had a last look around, then the two men followed the EXIT signs to a door that opened onto an outside landing and a flight of stairs to the ground.
“Both front and rear entrances,” Eugene said. “A piece of cake.”
“Okay, then how do we get off the base?” the colonel asked.
Eugene pointed past the rear exit and across the street. “Officers club,” he said, “noncom club next door. I’ll drop you at the first then park in front of the second. We can have a sandwich at the bar, wait for the hubbub to die down, then leave by the main gate, where they checked us in.”
“I like it,” Sykes said.
“So do I,” Eugene replied. “But I like St. Mary’s, too. I’d be wearing a workman’s coveralls there. I can put the disassembled rifle in my tool kit, then walk outside onto a busy Manhattan street and get into the van. But here is different. How are we going to get the rifle on and off the base? I don’t want to leave it. It’s a fine piece of equipment.”