will he?" Bray hung up and crushed out his cigarette. As he had thought, Appleton Hall was the most logical place for Guiderone to hold his hostages. He had tried not to think about it when he had driven around the massive estatethe nearness of Toni was an obstruction he could barely surmount-but instinctively he had known it. And because he knew it, his eyes had reacted like the rapid shutters of a dozen cameras clicking off a hundred images. The grounds had space; acres filled with dense trees and thick shrubbery and guards in lean-to shelters positioned around the hill. Such a fortress was a likely target for an invasion-indeed the possibility was obviously never far from Guiderone's mind-and Scofield intended to capitalize on that fear. He would mount an imaginary invasion, its roots in the sort of army the Shepherd Boy understood as well as anyone on earth.
He made a last call before leaving Salem; to Robert Winthrop in Washington. The Ambassador might well be tied up for hours at the White House-his advice intrinsic to any decision made by the President-and Scofield wanted his first line of protection. It was his only protection, really; imaginary invasions had no invaders.
"Brandon? I haven't slept all night." "Neither did a lot of other people, sir. Is this line sterile?" "I had it electronically checked early this morning. What's happening?
Did you see Bergeron?" "He's on his way. Eastern Flight Six-two. He's got the envelope and will be in Washington by ten." "I'll send Stanley to meet him at the airport. I spoke to the President fifteen minutes ago. He's clearing his calendar and will see me at two o'clock this afternoon. I expect it will be a very long meeting. I'm sure he'll want to bring in others." "That's why I'm calling now; I thought as much. I've got the exchange ground. Have you a pencil?" "Yes, go ahead." "It's a place called Appleton Hall in Brookline." "Appleton? Senator Appleton?" "You'll understand when you get the envelope from Bergeron." "My God!" "The estate's above Jamaica Pond, on a bill called Appleton Hill; it's well known. I'll set the meeting for eleventhirty tonight; I'll time my arrival exactly. Tell whoever's in charge to start surrounding the hill at eleven-forty-five. Block off the roads a half-mile in all directions, using detour signs, and approach carefully. There are guards inside the fence every two or three hundred feet. Station the command post on the dirt road across from the front gate; there's a large white house there, if I remember correctly. Take it and sever the telephone wires; it may belong to the Matarese." "Just a minute, Brandon," interrupted Winthrop. "I'm writing all this and my hands and eyes aren't what they once were." "I'm sorry, I'll slow down." "It's all right. 'Sever telephone wires.' Go on." "My strategy's right out of the book. They may expect it, but they can't stop it. I'll say my deadline's fifteen minutes past midnight. That's when I'm to go out the front door with the hostages to my car and strike two matches one after the other; they'll recognize a pattern. I'll tell them a drone is outside the gate with an envelope containing the X-rays." "Drone? X-rays?" "The first is only a name for someone I hire. The second is the proof they expect me to deliver." "But you can't deliver itl" "It wouldn't make any difference if I did. Youll have enough in the envelope Bergeron's bringing you." "Of course. What else?" "When I strike the second match, tell the C.P. to give me corresponding signals." "Corresponding? -.." "Strike two matches." "Of course. Sorry. Then?" "Wait for me to drive down to the gate. I'll time everything as close to twelve-twenty as I can. As soon as the gate's opened, the troops move in.
They'll be covered by diversionary static-tell them it's just that.
Static." "What? I don't understand." "They will. I've got to leave now, Mr. Ambassador. There's still a lot to do." "Brandon!" "Yes, sir?" "There's one thing you do not have to do." "What's that?" "Worry about vindication. I promise you. You were always the best there was." "Thank you, sir. Thank you for everything. I just want to be free."
The gunsmith on Salem's Hawthorne Boulevard was both amused and pleased that the stranger purchased two grosses of Ought-Four shotgun shells during off-season. Tourists were damn fools anyway, but this one compounded the damn-foolery of paying good money not only for the shells, but