Choppy Water - Stuart Woods Page 0,74

ask last night,” Stone said, “but the theater is supposed to be filled by a student audience, isn’t it?”

“It was,” Tom replied. “But we made some changes in the schedule.”

“Is anybody going to get hurt?” Stone asked.

“None of the students. Others will.”

58

Tom Blake walked into a rear room at the transition headquarters and watched for a couple of minutes how a fine theatrical cosmetologist could turn Gerry Mason into Holly Barker. That done, a hairdresser sprayed water on her hair and blew it dry, placing soft curls in the places that Holly had them. One of Holly’s suits hung on a nail in the wall nearby.

Tom took Gerry’s hand. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Calm, but excited,” she said. “Ready. I don’t really have all that much to do. The Secret Service agents will push me in the right direction.”

“Are you armed?”

“I brought a piece.”

“Do you have a shoulder holster?”

“Yes.”

“Wear it. You probably won’t need it, but if you do, you should have it.”

“Thank you, Tom, I will.”

Tom checked his watch. “We’ll load up in about fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be ready.”

* * *

—

Elizabeth put on her underwear and slacks, leaving off her blouse, then slipped on her lightweight, flesh-colored shoulder holster, got into the blouse and buttoned it, leaving the top button undone Someone looking for a gun would get the sight of cleavage instead. She slipped on a light leather jacket and zipped it up halfway. She picked up her Sig Sauer .380, pumped a round into the chamber, then popped the magazine and replaced the round, before reinserting the magazine. She slipped a spare magazine into her jacket pocket, then finally she put on her pearl necklace and earrings.

The hotel phone rang. “Yes?”

“Bess, it’s Wade. You ready?”

“I am.”

“Meet me downstairs in five minutes.”

“Sure.”

* * *

—

Wade hung up the phone in his suite. “All right, Eugene is in place at the theater, and Earl is already on-site. Jimmy, you’re in the rear seat behind Bess, who will be driving. These are your instructions: If you see a threat of any kind, or anyone displaying a badge coming toward you, you are to shoot Bess in the head twice, before you deal with the threat.”

Jimmy looked surprised. “Isn’t she one of us?”

“Do you understand your instructions?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Are you fully capable of carrying them out?”

“I am, sir.”

“Then let’s go.”

* * *

—

Bess was waiting beside the van when they came out of the hotel. She tugged at her right earring, then got into the driver’s seat and adjusted the mirrors and the seat. She was looking into the rearview mirror when Jimmy got in behind her. She noticed that there were beads of sweat on his upper lip. A first-timer, like her, she reckoned.

Sykes got in beside her. “All right, let’s go. Normal speed, don’t blow the horn or do anything to attract attention.”

Bess started the van, put the gear lever in D, and pulled out onto Madison Avenue, then turned east on East Sixty-fourth Street.

“Any questions, Bess?”

“Nope,” she replied.

“Jimmy?”

“No, sir, none.”

* * *

—

Stone walked out of the transition office with a half dozen people, among them Gerry Mason and Tom Blake. Tom directed him into the front passenger seat. An FBI agent was behind the wheel, his badge clipped to his outside suit breast pocket. They pulled away from the curb.

“Stone,” Tom said, “are you armed?”

“Yes,” Stone replied, “lightly so.”

“You are not a policeman. Do you understand?”

“Wrong, Tom. I’m still carried on the NYPD roster as a detective first grade. My shield is on my belt; do you want me to display it?”

“Regardless of what your status is with the NYPD, this is a Bureau operation. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” Stone said. “I’m under your command, Tom.”

“Then this is your first order. When we walk into the building, you may accompany us, but you stop at the theater door. You are not to follow us into the theater until I order it. Is that clear?”

“As you wish, Tom; I’ll wait outside the door.”

“Good. You may display your shield when you do.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Stone,” Tom said, “how is it you’re still on the NYPD roster?”

“Our present mayor, who was commissioner of police at the time, made me a gift of the badge, promoted me to detective first, and put me on active duty until further notice. I’ve never had further notice.”

“Extraordinary,” Tom said.

“Perhaps so, but I can still participate in a bust.”

“Not this one,” Tom said.

“You’ve made that clear.”

“You don’t know the drill for the bust, and