6 Stone Barrington Novels (194 page)

STONE TRIED LANCE'S
radio but got no answer. He got the car started and headed back for the Triborough Bridge, while dialing Lance's cell phone. No answer, so Stone left a message.

“Lance, it's over; Dino and I are out, and we've got Arrington. We're headed back to my house. There are two dead men back at Field One Twenty-one, and Dino has put out an APB for a silver Lincoln Navigator with no rear window, probably driven by Billy Bob. Call me.” He hung up.

“Where's Billy Bob headed?” Dino asked.

“I don't know. Maybe to Martin Block's building in Queens. Lance has that covered. To tell you the truth, I don't really give a damn. We've got Arrington back; that's all that matters.”

“Now you're talking,” Arrington said.

“And what was all this in aid of?”

“Billy Bob wants to kill me.”

“So, why didn't he?”

“Beats me, but I'm not going to quarrel with the fact.”

“He was planning to,” Arrington said. “It was about some fellow with a German name?”

“Mitteldorfer,” Stone said.

“Not a friend of either of us,” Dino chipped in.

“They were in prison together,” Arrington said. “Until Billy Bob escaped.”

“Jesus, yet another crime of his,” Stone said.

“That means the whole world of law enforcement wants him,” Dino replied.

“I couldn't care less, not anymore,” Stone said.

“So you don't care about Billy Bob anymore?” Dino asked. “You don't want him?”

“Let Lance worry about Billy Bob; I'm done with him.”

“Maybe he isn't done with you, did you think about that?”

“He'd be a fool to keep trying to kill me,” Stone said. “He's got to worry about surviving, now. Anyway, Lance is going to scoop him up in Queens.”

“You hope.”

“I hope? Why are you being such a pessimist?”

“So far, when it comes to Billy Bob, I haven't found anything to be optimistic about.”

Stone hit the remote-control button and swung into his garage, closing the door behind him.

“Where's Peter?” Arrington asked as they got out of the car.

“He's in the kitchen with McGonigle and Corey.”

“Where's his nanny?”

“I'm sorry to tell you this, but she was a victim of Billy Bob or his people.”

Arrington put her face in her hands. “She was a sweet girl; God, I hope this is over.”

“I hope so, too.”

Arrington started running. “I want to see Peter,” she said.

“I promised to take him to the Central Park Zoo,” Stone yelled after her. He went into his office to let Joan know he was back and to try to call Lance again. Dino went with him.

Joan was at her desk. “ 'Morning,” she said.

“I'm back. Will you get me Lance Cabot on his cell phone?”

“Sure.”

Stone heard the scream from his office. He and Dino started running toward the kitchen. When they came into the room Arrington was still screaming, as much in anger as in fear. McGonigle lay on his face in a pool of blood. Stone checked for a pulse and found none. Corey was on the other side of the kitchen table, lying on her back, with a bad-looking chest wound. Dino was bent over her.

“She's still alive,” he said. He got on his phone and called for help.

Arrington had stopped screaming, but she was pointing at the kitchen table. On its top, someone had written, apparently in Corey's blood, “IT'S NOT OVER.”

Stone took Arrington in his arms. “We're going to fix this,” he said. “We're going to find Peter.”

Joan buzzed him. “I've got Lance on the phone.”

Stone picked up the extension. “Where are you?”

“Sitting on Block's place in Queens.”

“We just got back to my house: McGonigle is dead, and Corey is in bad shape with a gunshot wound to the chest. Peter has been taken.”

“I'll be there as fast as I can,” Lance said.

“Don't take Block's building; Billy Bob may go there with Peter.”

“I got your message about the APB. That may not be helpful.”

“Why?”

But Lance had hung up.

THE PARAMEDICS
had left with Corey and sedated Arrington by the time Lance arrived, and the coroner and a team of detectives were dealing with McGonigle's body and the crime scene in the kitchen. Stone had put Arrington to bed, and he and Dino were sitting in his study when Lance came upstairs.

“I saw McGonigle,” Lance said. “Where have they taken Corey?”

“To Bellevue,” Stone replied.

Lance called somebody on his cell phone. “Corey is at Bellevue Hospital with a chest wound,” he said. “Find the best thoracic surgeon in New York, kidnap him, if you have to, and get him to her immediately.” He snapped the phone shut. “All right, Stone,” he said, “why did you call the cops?”

“Lance,” Dino said, “
I
called the cops. I
am
the cops. You blew catching Billy Bob, and we now have a trail of dead bodies that can't be ignored. This is obviously bigger than your resources, and we needed an APB to find the Navigator.”

“Then there's Peter,” Stone said. “We need the biggest possible net out there.”

Lance sat down. “This has all gone horribly wrong,” he said. “We chased that fucking helicopter all the way out Long Island Sound to Montauk and halfway back, before we had to stop to refuel and lost it. I thought you were aboard.”

“That's what Billy Bob arranged for you to think,” Stone said. “I told you there would be some sort of switch. Has anything at all happened at Block's place?”

Lance shook his head. “I sent Sandy back in there to buy some more stuff, and he reports that all was normal. Block is working in his office, and nobody seems suspicious.”

“Billy Bob is going to be in touch with him at some point. As far as we know, Block is all he's got in New York.”

“We've tapped the phone lines; now all we can do is wait.”

They sat silently for a while.

“Waiting is not fun,” Stone said.

DINO'S CELL PHONE
rang first. “Bacchetti. Yeah . . . yeah . . . yeah . . . shit! Keep me posted.” Dino stood up. “A patrol car spotted the Navigator trying to get into the Lincoln Tunnel, tried to stop him, but couldn't. A pursuit is under way as we speak.”

Then Lance's phone rang. “Yes? Where? Good. Hold it there, and . . . wait a minute.” He looked at Dino. “Which way is Billy Bob headed?”

“He was on Forty-second Street, headed east.”

Lance turned back to his phone. “Stand by there, and start questioning the pilot.” He snapped the phone shut.

“What?” Stone asked.

“My people caught up with Billy Bob's chopper at the East Side Heliport five minutes ago.”

Dino's phone rang again. “Bacchetti.” He listened, then covered the phone. “Billy Bob turned into a parking garage off Times Square, and he's being pursued upward, level by level.

“Why would he corner himself like that?” Stone asked.

“What kind of building is it?” Lance wanted to know.

Dino went back to the cell phone. “What kind of building?” He covered the phone again. “Office tower, big one; the first six floors are parking.”

“I know what he's doing,” Lance said.

“What?” Stone asked.

But Lance was already on his cell phone. “Look inside the chopper,” he said. “Is there a handheld radio there?” He waited impatiently. “Right,” he said. “Get the radio to the pilot; if Billy Bob calls him, make him answer, even if you have to put a gun to his head. I'm on my way.”

Dino was back on his cell phone. “Billy Bob made a run for the elevators and made it. He's handcuffed to Peter, and he's carrying a large, metal suitcase.”

“I
knew
it,” Lance said. “Stone, you come with me. Dino, you join your people in Times Square.”

“Okay,” Dino said.

“And I want you to empty Times Square immediately.”

“Jesus, I don't have the authority to do that,” Dino said.

“Find somebody who does. Tell them that Billy Bob very probably has a suitcase containing thirty-six very powerful grenades and a rifle launcher. Are you getting the picture?”

“Holy shit,” Dino said.

“Stone, let's get going.”

Dino was calling for his own car as Stone and Lance ran for the garage.

When Stone had made the street, he turned to Lance. “Now, tell me what is going on.”

“Billy Bob is headed for the top of that office tower,” Lance said. “He's probably already there by now, and from the top of that building he can . . .”

“Threaten Times Square with the grenades,” Stone said, completing his sentence. “It's what you predicted a while back.”

“I meant it as an illustration, not a prediction,” Lance said. “My people have Billy Bob's helicopter at the East Side Heliport, and his
driver, too. That's got to be Billy Bob's way out. I seriously doubt if he has
two
choppers at his disposal.

“What's your plan?”

“
Plan?
I don't have a plan; no plan will work. All we can do is react to what Billy Bob does and try to predict his next move. Right now he's on top of a tall building with Arrington's child and all those grenades. As crazy as he may be, nothing so far has indicated that he's suicidal. He expects to get out of there, and how else but by helicopter?”

They turned into the heliport and abandoned Stone's car in some executive's parking space. Stone brought Billy Bob's radio. He followed Lance into the building, and they were waved into a back office by one of his people.

The helicopter pilot, dressed neatly in his uniform of black trousers and white shirt with epaulets was sitting in an office chair, surrounded by Lance's people. “I'm telling you that's all I know about it,” he was saying.

“Tell
me,
” Lance said.

“Are you in charge here?” the pilot demanded.

“Tell me, and do it now.”

“This guy, Stanford, chartered our chopper; he's been our customer in the past. He said he wanted to run through some routines for a movie he's producing. I was to snatch the guy off a Little League baseball field on Randall's Island, then fly out to Montauk and back doing a lot of maneuvers. I did it, and that's all I know. I haven't even been permitted to call my office.”

Lance nodded. “Has his helicopter been refueled?” he asked one of his people.

“Yes, sir,” the man replied. He handed Lance a handheld radio. “This is what Billy Bob gave the pilot.”

“I've got another one,” Stone said, holding it up.

“Where's our equipment?” Lance asked his man.

“Van, outside.”

“Get me the rifle and some loaded magazines.”

“Yes, sir.” The man left.

“What are we doing?” Stone asked.

“We're waiting for instructions,” Lance replied.

“Instructions?”

“From Billy Bob.”

The man came back with a large case and a box of magazines.

“Let's wait in the chopper,” Lance said.

“Where are you going with my chopper?” the pilot asked.

“Wherever your client tells you to. You're still flying it.”

“Who are you people?”

Lance shoved an ID wallet under his nose. “Read it carefully,” he said.

“Okay, I got it.”

“The man you call Stanford is an enemy of your country. We have to deal with him. You're the only person who can get us to him.”

“All right,” the man said. “Let's go.”

Stone's cell phone vibrated. “Yes?”

“It's Dino. Tell Lance I got to the police commissioner, and he's given the order to close Times Square.”

Stone relayed the information to Lance.

“Thank God for that,” Lance said.

“Where are you, Dino?” Stone asked. Stone turned on the speakerphone.

“I'm in a subway entrance in the street below the building. There's a SWAT team ready to take that roof.”

“Don't do it, Dino,” Lance said. “If you try, Billy Bob is going to start lobbing grenades into Times Square, and you don't want that. Are you in touch with the commissioner?”

“He's on his way here, now; I can reach him by phone.”

“Good. Tell him to keep police and television helicopters away from that building, too.”

“Okay, but what are you going to do?”

“I'll let you know in a few minutes.”

“Okay, Dino?” Stone asked.

“Yeah, I'll wait for word.”

Stone hung up. “Why don't we get this chopper started and get over there?”

“Because we have to wait to be asked. If we show up without an invitation he'll regard us as hostile and start shooting.”

“And why do you think we'll be invited?”

“How else is he going to get out of there?” Lance asked.