Choppy Water - Stuart Woods Page 0,71
the bourbon. “I’ve already forgotten everything you’ve told me.”
“That’s as it should be,” Claire said. “We’ve had a chat with two of your scheduling staff. They’ll be returning to work tomorrow, and they’ll get a schedule that includes a thirty-minute stop at a theater at Hunter College, over on Lexington Avenue. It will be the only venue on your schedule that might work for them.”
“Why do you think that?”
“It has steeply raked seats with a projection booth at the top. There’s a fire door that exits to the street behind the college, where a parked van won’t be noticed.”
“Also,” Bill said, “we have it on good authority that they’re getting itchy for action, so they’ll be more likely to bite.”
“Did the cancellation of my two events this week have anything to do with them?”
“Yes. We were not only short of personnel, we were short on time to prepare. And we didn’t have Gerry ready.”
“Do you have time to prepare for this one?”
“We have already done so. We’ll be ready for them at the scheduled time: eleven AM, the day after tomorrow.”
“Where will I be when this is happening?” Holly asked.
“Somewhere else,” Stone said. “You get to sleep late, if you like.”
“What are the chances that Gerry here will get out of this alive?”
“As close to one hundred percent as possible,” Bill said. “That’s all we can tell you now. We need to keep some things from you.”
“Do you consider me a possible leak?”
“We consider you a teapot,” Claire said. “If you’re too full and too hot, you might blow.”
“And you want my approval?” Holly asked.
“They already have approval,” Stone said, “they don’t need yours.”
“Why did you want me to send everybody home?” Holly asked.
“We have some electrical work to do here,” Tom said. “Audio and visual. When they come in tomorrow morning, the schedule will be on everyone’s desk. You can tell them that you and Sam worked out the schedule tonight.”
Claire took a stack of papers from a briefcase and started distributing the pages to the desks. Everybody else began to leave, except two Secret Service agents at the far end of the room.
Stone came to Holly’s chair. “We can go now. How about some dinner?”
“I’m hungry enough to eat an ox,” Holly said, standing.
“I don’t think that’s on the menu at Caravaggio,” he said, “but they have just about everything else, plus the advantage of being right around the corner.”
“Then why aren’t we already there?” Holly asked.
He helped her into her coat, then offered his arm. “Right this way.”
They walked down Madison to Seventy-fourth Street and took a right. As they walked into the restaurant and were escorted to their table, there was a sudden dip in the other guests’ conversation.
“I’m having to get used to that,” Holly said.
56
Bess was having lunch with Sykes in his suite when Eugene knocked, then let himself in and handed a sheet of paper to Sykes. “I believe we’re on,” he said.
Sykes looked at the paper. “Have you already reconnoitered?” he asked.
“No, but I found some photographs of the theater on their website, and a map check shows a street behind it where the van won’t attract attention. We should get over there and check it out as soon as possible.”
“I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes,” Sykes replied.
“I’ll let the others know what the van has to look like,” Eugene said, then left.
“You look excited,” Bess said.
“I am,” Sykes replied. “When both our earlier choices got canceled, I thought they were on to us, but this place seems ideal.”
“Where is it?” Bess asked. She was wearing her pearls.
“At Hunter College, over on Lexington.” He went and got a New York City street map. “Here,” he said, tapping. “And the van will be on the street behind. You’ll be driving.”
She smiled. “You’re sure you can trust me?”
“Of course,” he replied. “And if you fail us, we can always shoot you.”
Bess just smiled again. “I won’t fail you.”
“Let me have your iPhone,” he said.
She handed it to him.
“Let’s go.”
* * *
—
Down the hall a couple of doors, Fisk twiddled with some knobs. “We got all of that,” he said.
“Is anything going on in that theater right now?” Tom asked.
Fisk looked at the schedule. “No, it should be empty. We finished our work there yesterday. All we had to do was tap into the college’s own security network. We’ve got cameras and audio. You want to watch?”
“And record,” Tom said. “We’ll call it a cold run-through.”
* * *
—
Sykes, Eugene, and Bess parked the van