Choppy Water - Stuart Woods Page 0,77

a runway framed in the windshield. “College Park?” she asked.

“The world’s oldest continuously operated airport,” Sykes said. “Built for the Wright brothers in 1908.”

The chopper slowed rapidly, then set down gently on the grass next to the runway. A tall man who looked familiar stood waiting, dressed in a military-style jumpsuit. The copilot got out and stowed his luggage in a rear compartment, while the man climbed in and sat across from Bess.

“Les Hardy,” he said, offering his hand. “We’ve met before.”

“Yes, we have, Senator.”

The chopper lifted off, climbed a couple of hundred feet, and continued its journey.

Hardy found a headset. “What went wrong?” he asked, looking at Sykes.

“Just about everything,” Sykes said. “They were lying in wait for us. Everybody is dead but Bess and me.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Hardy replied.

“In the circumstances, no,” Sykes said. “Nobody left to interrogate. Nothing in their pockets, either; we traveled light.”

“What’s the plan now?” the senator asked.

“I’m going to pick up some things at the compound, burn some papers, then we’ll head to Roanoke and meet an airplane there. Very early tomorrow morning we’ll land in Caracas. Nobody can touch us there, even if they know where we are.”

“Well, goodbye to the Senate,” Hardy said.

“Les, we both know you weren’t going to be reelected. It’s hello to a new life. And when we feel like it, we can get back to work.”

“How does that sit with you, Bess?” Hardy asked.

“First I’ve heard of it. But, as Wade says, ‘in the circumstances,’ I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.”

“We’ll be comfortable,” Sykes said. “I bought a house there more than ten years ago, under a corporate name. It’s fully staffed and provisioned, which is good. Food is hard to come by in Venezuela these days. There are a couple of cars in the garage; all we’ll need are new cell phones.”

“We’ll just pop into the Apple Store, huh?” Bess asked.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What am I supposed to do there?”

“Write that novel or screenplay you’ve been dreaming of?”

“Not likely.”

“We can just drop you off at the compound, if you like, but before tomorrow, you’ll be chatting with the FBI.”

“If I choose that option, what would you like me to tell them?”

“Oh, you’ve been there since last weekend. You’ve no idea where I went or how long I plan to be gone.”

* * *

—

Stone sat in a different helicopter, one with big letters on the side, reading FBI. Tom Blake sat next to him, on a satphone, which he hung up.

“Where are they?” Stone asked.

“We lost them over Maryland,” Tom replied. “Senator Hardy is MIA from his office. Best guess is, he took the underground train to the House side and got a ride from somebody.”

“We know where they’ve gone, don’t we?” Stone asked. “They can’t be anywhere else.”

“Agreed, and we’re taking steps to be sure they don’t think we know.”

“So,” Stone said, “are we going to take the compound, just the two of us?”

“We’ll have backup on the ground, but I’m not sure we’ll need it. All of Sykes’s people we know about are dead.”

“I hope he doesn’t have more buddies than we know about. Any news of Elizabeth? Like, dead or alive?”

“She drove the van away, then got on the helicopter with him,” Tom replied, “so we’ll assume she’s alive.”

“Unless she involuntarily deplaned at altitude.”

“Don’t be a pessimist,” Tom said.

61

The sun was low in the sky when the pilot broke the silence. “Twenty miles out,” he said.

“Go silent,” Tom Blake said.

There was a change in something, Stone thought. He took off his headset. “Weird,” he said to Tom.

“Ain’t it? If they’re there, they’ll get a lot less notice of our arrival. Chet,” he said to the pilot, “get us down to a hundred feet off the deck, then circle the property from a mile out. Let’s see what we can see.”

“Gotcha,” Chet replied, and began his descent.

From a mile out, Stone could see no vehicles parked in the area. It was dusk now, and there were no lights on in the house.

“Chet, take us back to the main road and drop us on the tarmac, then stand off a couple of miles, where you won’t be noticed from the air, shut down and keep your radio on and your cell phone ready. If we come under fire, we may need to call in help, which is about five miles up the road. If you see incoming aircraft, call me on the phone.”

“Gotcha,” Chet said. He took them down to