Choppy Water - Stuart Woods Page 0,6

there’ll be a break in the weather soon, long enough for us to get across.”

They hung up. Stone looked across the room at Dino, who had his pistol out of its holster and was shoving in a magazine and working the action.

“What’s wrong?” Stone asked.

“I don’t know, but something. I’m going over to the yacht club and check on those guys.”

“I’ll come with you,” Stone said. He opened a concealed room that had been his cousin Dick’s office and found himself a gun and ammo, then got them both some dry foul weather gear.

“It’s letting up a little,” Stone said, grabbing a pair of Surefire flashlights and tossing one to Dino. “Let’s go.”

They left the house by the back door.

5

Stone tucked his weapon under his slicker to keep it dry and inside his waistband to keep it handy. Dino was wearing a shoulder holster.

They stepped off the back porch into a steady, heavy rain. There was an occasional flash of lightning, followed quickly by a crash of thunder. Gusts of wind occasionally blew. They walked, sometimes waded, along the fifty-yard gravel path to the yacht club. Stone could hear an occasional thump, and as they got nearer to the entrance, he could see the right half of the French doors, banging against the side of the building. Most of its glass panes were broken.

Dino got inside first, and Stone saw his flashlight come on. “Jesus Christ!” Dino yelled. Stone switched on his own flashlight and stepped inside, waving it around, “Oh, shit,” he said, as splashes of blood and gore on the walls came into view. He moved the light’s beam down and began to see bodies on the floor—torn and twisted.

Dino was going from man to man and looking closer. “All of them are dead,” he said, feeling an occasional wrist or throat. “And cold. A couple of hours, maybe.”

“Freeze!” a man’s voice shouted.

“Bill?” Stone called.

“Who’s that?”

“Stone Barrington and Dino Bacchetti. Don’t shoot us.”

Bill Wright, followed closely by Claire Dunn, came into the room, weapons drawn. “What the hell happened?” Bill asked. “We just got here on the ferry.”

“We just got here, too,” Stone replied. “Dino says they’re all dead, maybe for a couple of hours.”

The two Secret Service agents made their own quick check. “Where is Peregrine?” Bill asked, using Holly’s Secret Service code name.

“Upstairs at my house, with Viv Bacchetti.”

Bill made a move in that direction.

“Hold on!” Stone said.

The agents stopped.

“They’re both armed, and since they’re both ex-cops, they know how to handle themselves, so identify yourself before you go inside. Wait, I’ll let you in the back door.” Stone led the group back to the house and opened the rear door with his key. “Holly!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

“Upstairs!” Holly called back.

“Bill and Claire are with us. Don’t shoot anybody, it’s safe.”

“The hell it is,” Bill said.

Holly and Viv came down the stairs cautiously, guns in hand. “What’s wrong?” Holly asked.

“Everything,” Stone replied.

Bill grabbed the landline and started dialing numbers.

“Stone,” Holly said, “what’s going on?”

“There’s been an attack. Bill,” Stone said, “you’d better make your next call to the state police. This is their jurisdiction. I’ve got the number.” He began searching his contacts list.

“Fuck ’em,” Bill said, dialing another number. “Our people are federal employees, so the FBI has jurisdiction. I’ll do what I can, until they show up.” He went back to his phone call. “Jerry, this is Bill Wright, Secret Service. My detail for the president-elect has been attacked: six dead, no wounded.” He gave the man their location and directions, then hung up. “The FBI are getting their people down here from the state capital. Should be here in an hour.”

He made another call. “I want you to get that ferry over to the island stat,” he said into the phone. “If the crew has left for the day, roust ’em out and get them over here, but don’t make more of a fuss than you have to. We don’t want to call attention to ourselves.” He hung up.

Stone checked the weather radar on his cell phone. “Uh-oh,” he said. “When did anybody last look at the weather?”

“Last night,” Dino said. “Are you talking about Hurricane Zelda?”

“I am.”

“She’s going to pass east of Newfoundland.”

“Not anymore, Bill. She’s taken a left, and the eye will now pass west of Nova Scotia. That’s why we’re getting all these bands of rain.”

“We’re going to be in a hole, a quiet spot, in an hour or so, and the FBI chopper can’t leave until then.