6 Stone Barrington Novels (65 page)

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Authors: Stuart Woods

BOOK: 6 Stone Barrington Novels
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“Okay, out of the car,” Larry said, opening the door and helping Stone out of the rear seat.
“Let's try the number again,” Stone said.
Larry punched redial, and again, the dreaded message repeated.
“Well, I guess you're just shit out of luck,” Larry said, pocketing the phone. He pushed Stone toward the mangrove. “My instructions were, if I couldn't reach him, to do the deed and meet him tonight.”
“You're doing this on credit, then?” Stone asked, trying not to panic.
“Don't worry,” Larry said. “Me and Mr. Barnacle go way back. We did a little stretch together.”
Suddenly the name rang a bell. “Barnacle?
Douglas Barnacle
?”
“That's his name.”
Stone realized that he was about to be murdered by a dead man. “Hang on,” he said.
“Listen, Mr. Barrington, there's no use stretching this out. You don't want to think about this any more than you have to.”
“Don't you read the papers? Watch television? Listen to the radio?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Didn't you hear about the shoot-out in a Palm Beach restaurant last night?”
Ernest, who had gotten out of the car, walked up. “Yeah, I heard something about that,” he said.
“What shoot-out?”
“The guy you call Doug Barnacle was living in Palm Beach under the name of Paul Bartlett. The police killed him last night.”
That brought Larry up short. “Ernest, that was the name, wasn't it? Paul Bartlett?”
“That's what he was using yesterday,” Ernest said.
“Turn on the car radio,” Stone said. “Find an all-news station.”
“Do it, Ernest,” Larry said.
Ernest went to the car, turned on the radio and found a station. Farm report, bank robbery in West Palm, weather.
Larry looked at his watch. “Ernest, we got a plane to catch.”
“I know it,” Ernest said.
Larry turned and marched Stone back to the mangrove. He put a foot against his backside and shoved him into the swamp. Stone kept his balance and ended up thigh-deep in the black water. A large snake slithered past no more than a yard away. “Mr. Barrington, that was a real nice try. I admire it, but it's time for you to say bye-bye.” He raised the pistol and pointed it at Stone's forehead, no more than five feet away.
“Hey, Larry!” Ernest called.
“What?”
“Listen!” He turned up the radio.
“. . . chaotic scene at La Reserve, a Palm Beach restaurant last night, ended up with one dead, and a Minneapolis police officer seriously wounded.”
“Don't Doug live in Minneapolis?” Ernest asked.
“Shhhh.”
“. . . have identified the police officer as Lieutenant Ebbe Lundquist, of the Minneapolis PD, and the dead suspect as Paul Bartlett, also of Minneapolis. Bartlett had been wanted in Minnesota for the murder of his wife, Frances Simms Bartlett, nearly a year ago, and Lieutenant Lundquist was trying to effect an arrest in the restaurant, backed up by the Palm Beach Police Department.”
“Well, shit,” Larry said. “You're not lying, Mr. Barrington.”
“No,” Stone said, “I'm not.”
“I mean, you got no idea what some folks will tell you in circumstances like this, you know?”
“I'm sure. But the fact remains, Larry, that you're not going to get paid for this one, so why do it? You've already got the twenty-five thousand, so you haven't wasted your time, but Bartlett isn't going to pay off, now.” Stone did
not
like standing in this swamp, with
things
slithering around in it.
“He's got a point, Larry,” Ernest said.
“Maybe,” Larry said, thoughtfully.
Ernest looked at his watch. “And we haven't got all that much time before our plane.”
Larry looked at Stone. “I don't guess you'd really pay me the fifty grand, would you?”
“Give me your address, and I'll send you a check,” Stone replied.
Larry burst out laughing. “Come on, Ernest, let's get outta here!” He got into the car, and Ernest drove off, spinning the wheels and throwing mud everywhere.
Stone stood in the swamp for a minute, trying to get his heart rate down, then the snake appeared again, and he started struggling for the shore.
Once on dry land, he lay down and, with the greatest possible effort, got his handcuffed hands under his ass and finally over his feet. Now, with his hands in front of him, he was able to get to the cell phone under his sweater on his belt. He punched in the number.
“The Shames yacht,” Dino said.
“Dino,” Stone said, “I need you to come and get me, and bring your handcuffs key.”
39
D
INO FOUND THE WHOLE STORY HILARIOUS. “I DON'T believe it,” he cackled. “Bartlett bites you on the ass from the grave! I wish I had been there!”
“Dino, it wouldn't have been funny, even if you were there.”
“And you thought it was Manning who bought the hit!” He cackled again.
“And it
still
isn't funny.”
Stone went to his cabin, showered and changed, retrieved his laptop computer and brought it into the saloon.
“What are you doing with that?” Dino asked.
“The only address we have for Frederick James is an e-mail address, so I'm going to e-mail him.”
“Will he be able to tell you're in Palm Beach?”
“No. The return address will be the same as if I'd sent it from New York.”
“Okay, why not?”
Stone made some adjustments in his telephone dialing program, logged on to his Internet provider and went to e-mail.
TO: FREDERICK JAMES
FROM: STONE BARRINGTON
 
DEAR MR. JAMES:
 
I UNDERSTAND YOU HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GET IN TOUCH WITH ME. IF SO, YOU MAY REACH ME AT THE ABOVE E-MAIL ADDRESS, OR TELEPHONE ME AT (917) 555-1455. I THINK YOU AND I MAY HAVE SOMETHING TO DISCUSS THAT WOULD REACT TO YOUR BENEFIT.
Stone sent the e-mail. “Let's see if that raises him.”
“And what if it does?”
“All I want to do is buy the guy off. Maybe he'll listen to reason.”
“You think he's interested in money?”
“I don't think he's interested in anything else. He's doing this because he's pissed off at his wife for taking all his money. I'm going to propose that she give some of it back.”
“I think the guy's a fruitcake, Stone, and . . .”
A chime from Stone's computer interrupted him. “You have mail,” a notice on the screen said.
“That was quick. The guy must have been working on his computer.” Stone opened the e-mail.
TO: STONE BARRINGTON
FROM: FREDERICK JAMES
 
DEAR MR. BARRINGTON:
 
WHY DO YOU THINK I AM TRYING TO GET IN TOUCH WITH YOU? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
Stone was annoyed. He immediately wrote back.
TO: PAUL MANNING
FROM: STONE BARRINGTON
 
PAUL:
 
ALLISON HAS ASKED ME TO REPRESENT HER IN COMING TO TERMS WITH YOU. SHE IS WILLING TO PART WITH A SUBSTANTIAL SUM OF MONEY IN ORDER TO AMICABLY END ALL TIES WITH YOU. LET ME KNOW IF YOU ARE INTERESTED.
“Let's see if that has any effect,” Stone said.
Considerable time passed while they waited. Stone and Dino chatted about nothing in particular for a while, then the computer chimed again, and Stone opened the mail.
TO: STONE BARRINGTON
FROM: FREDERICK JAMES
 
SIR:
 
YOU SEEM TO BE SUFFERING UNDER THE DELUSION THAT I AM SOMEONE ELSE. HOW DID YOU GET THIS E-MAIL ADDRESS?
Stone immediately wrote back:
PAUL, THERE IS NO POINT IN CONTINUING WITH THIS. IF YOU HAVE NO INTEREST IN A SUBSTANTIAL SETTLEMENT, THEN YOU AND ALLISON CAN GO YOUR SEPARATE WAYS, WITH YOU EMPTY-HANDED AND EXPOSED.
There was an immediate return message:
SIR:
 
JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU CAN EXPOSE ABOUT ME? YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM.
Stone wrote back:
PAUL, OF COURSE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. HOW ABOUT THIS: I CALL SOMEBODY I KNOW AT
60 MINUTES
AND SUGGEST THEY DO A PIECE ON PAUL AND ALLISON MANNING, WHO EVERYBODY THINKS WERE HANGED IN ST. MARKS A WHILE BACK. THEY COULD INTERVIEW ALLISON, WHO COULD TELL THEM HOW SHE BRIBED GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS FOR HER OWN RELEASE AND YOURS. THEN SHE COULD TELL THEM HOW YOU ARE NOW CALLING YOURSELF FREDERICK JAMES, AND AS SOON AS THE SHOW IS OVER, EVERY JOURNALIST IN AMERICA WILL BE TRYING TO FIND YOU, WHICH SHOULD MAKE YOUR LIFE FUN. YOU SEEM TO HAVE MADE A NICE NEW LIFE FOR YOURSELF, WITH A BOOK ON THE
TIMES
LIST. WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE TO LIVE THAT LIFE, UNDISTURBED?
ALL WE ASK IS THAT YOU TAKE SOME MONEY AND LEAVE ALLISON UNDISTURBED. TALK TO ME.
James's answer:
SIR: I DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF MANIAC YOU ARE, BUT YOU ARE FLIRTING WITH THE BIGGEST LAWSUIT YOU EVER HEARD OF, PLUS MAYBE CRIMINAL CHARGES OF EXTORTION. THIS CORRESPONDENCE IS AT AN END. I DON'T WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN.
Dino, looking over Stone's shoulder, read the e-mail. “Well, that was certainly indignant. You think he's bluffing?”
“Yes,” Stone said. “What's more, I think we may have smoked him out. I don't think we've heard the last of Mr. James.”
40
S
TONE WAS READING THE PAPERS THE FOLLOWING MORN ing, when Thad appeared on deck, carrying two briefcases. He gave them to Juanito. “Put these in the car, will you, please?”
“You leaving?” Stone asked.
“Yes. I've got to go back to New York, then back to the Coast again.”
“Thad, it might be a good idea if you took Liz with you.”
“Why?”
“Well, I don't know if or when Paul Manning is going to turn up, but if he does, it might be better if Liz weren't here.”
“What am I going to do with her in New York, lock her in a hotel suite? I'm going to be very busy for the next week or so, and I'd have little time to spend with her. And from what she tells me, I think she'd be afraid to go out shopping or anywhere else on her own.”
“You have a point,” Stone said.
“I'd feel much better if she were here with you and Callie and Dino.”
“For how long?” Stone asked.
“For as long as you'll stay, or until you reach some sort of accommodation with Manning.”
“Thad, I can't stay forever, but I'll give it another week or two. Maybe we'll hear from this Frederick James again. If he really is Manning, I can't think why he wouldn't want to talk to me. After all, he's already called my office three or four times.”
“Does James know where you are?”
“No. At least, I don't think so.”
“You want me to hire some private security to back you up?”
“No, not at the moment. If it gets bad we can always do that.”
“If you want help, just tell Callie. She'll know who to call.”
“All right.”
The two men shook hands, and Thad left the yacht.
Dino, who had been having breakfast during this conversation, now spoke up. “Listen, Stone, I'm beginning to think you're taking this too seriously. I mean, all that's happened is the lady's house has been messed up a little. That's kid stuff; it's hardly a threat on her life. And if James is really Manning, then he can't be completely a fruitcake. He's made a life for himself, he's writing again, and if his book is on the bestseller list, he must be doing okay at it.”
“Dino, you only met this guy when you arrested him. I got to know him a little in St. Marks, and he made this very angry scene in New York right before you picked him up. He wanted his money, and he wanted it bad. I've got a feeling he still does.”
“A feeling? What's that? Your hunches were never all that good, you know.”
“Liz feels the same way, and she knows him better than anybody.”
“So now we're operating on
Liz's
hunches? Don't get me wrong, I'm getting used to living on a big yacht and having my every wish catered to; I always knew I could. I'll stay here until the chief of detectives sends somebody down here for me with an extradition warrant.”
“She's not a stupid woman. She and Paul pulled off quite an insurance fraud, you know.”
“Pulled off? You think nearly getting herself hanged is pulling it off? The whole thing completely backfired on them. They're stupid, both of them.”
“Okay, so it didn't work out. She's still pretty smart,” Stone said stubbornly.
“Anyway, she may not be your only problem.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I haven't mentioned this, but yesterday we got followed around town by a car.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Somebody is tailing us.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“It didn't seem related to Liz and her problems.”
“And what do you think it's related to?”
“I think it could be the former Mrs. Barrington.”
“Oh, shit,” Stone said. He had nearly forgotten about Dolce. “What kind of a car?”
“Sort of an anonymous-looking sedan, probably Japanese. The windows were tinted dark. I couldn't see who was inside.”
“Everybody's windows are tinted dark down here; keeps out the heat.”

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