Criminal Mischief (21 page)

Stone raised his glass to Brio and Wilcox. “Smooth sailing,” he said.

“That sounds like you’re not expecting it,” Brio said.

“I’m uncertain. It’s just a feeling. Listen. Do you think you could spare a couple more special agents to fly to Teterboro with us?”

“You don’t think two are enough?” Wilcox asked.

“I’d like some backup,” Stone said.

Brio looked at her watch. “Well, you’re a little late. Their airplane landed in Port Said yesterday, and everybody was checked into a hotel for some rest and showers and a change to civilian clothes. They took off this morning for Teterboro.”

Stone sighed. “Well, I took too long to make that judgment,” he said.

“Zanian is a pudgy little guy,” Brio said. “Why do you think that two burly FBI agents can’t handle him?”

“I know, I know. I’m just a belt-and-suspenders guy, I guess.”

“I’ve never noticed that about you before,” she said.

“Forget it. It’s out of the question now.”

“I can help them out, if necessary,” Wilcox said. “I was once a security guard at the State Department, during my university days.”

“And I’ll bet you were a tough guy,” Brio said.

“Tough enough for the job. I tossed a few people out of the building, and all of them were bigger than I. Zanian isn’t.”

“Thanks for the thought, Henry,” Stone said. “I guess we can both pitch in if the going gets rough.”

The commanding general made his entrance and was handed a martini. “Our last evening,” he said, raising his glass.

Everybody drank.

“General,” Stone said. “Does this yacht have a brig?”

“ ‘A brig’?”

“A naval term for a jail cell.”

“Yes, of course,” Said said. “That is a normal element of our security aboard. One never knows what one may encounter.”

“Is there anyone incarcerated at the moment?”

“Yes, a sailor who made unwanted advances on one of the chef’s assistants. She’s a lovely young woman. The man seemed unable to contain himself, so we locked him up. He’ll be dealt with on arrival in Port Said.”

“How will he be dealt with?”

“The captain will determine that. I’ve no interest in the matter. Why do you ask about this?”

“We thought we heard ghostly chains rattling.”

“Then perhaps you did, Stone. You’re not crazy after all, eh?”

“I’m relieved to learn that,” Stone said.

“What is it Occam’s razor says?”

“If you hear the sound of hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.”

“Quite. And when you hear chains rattling, think prisoner, not ghost.”

“Good advice.”

“And what are your plans after tomorrow, Stone?”

“As soon as we’ve secured Mr. Zanian aboard, we’ll take off for Teterboro. I expect to sleep in my own bed tomorrow night.”

“Not alone, I hope,” Said said, chuckling.

“That remains to be seen,” Stone replied.

“And, Brio, what are your plans?”

“That will be up to the director of the FBI,” she said.

“Wilcox?”

“I’ll need to report to the State Department in Washington and, while I’m at it, see if I have a new assignment.”

“I hope we will continue to have you in the Sultanate. Would you like me to make an official request?”

“Perhaps it would be better for you to have someone who is more trainable. I’m pretty set in my ways.”

“We would be delighted to have you stay on, but whatever you and the State Department want is fine with us.”

“One thing they will want to know about in Washington,” Wilcox said, “is the disposition of the sultan.”

“It’s not entirely up to me, so you will have to wait until I’ve had time to consult with my administration.”

“Then we will be patient.”

“What is it they say: ‘Patience will be rewarded’?”

“That is axiomatic, but sometimes we don’t like the reward,” Wilcox replied.

They were called to dinner.

Later, as they were undressing for bed, Brio began rubbing Stone’s shoulders and neck. He moved so as to give her better access.

“What’s worrying you, Stone?” she asked. “I’ve never seen you worried before.”

“I’m not worried, exactly. It’s just that I don’t like being in a position where I can’t control what’s happening.”

“I never thought you were a control freak,” she said.

“I’ve never thought of myself as that, either, but maybe I have a touch of the condition. Once we’ve concluded our business, I want to leave immediately, no delays.”

“Perfectly okay with me, but delays do occur at airports, and I don’t think that Egyptian ones are an exception to that. You need to just relax.”

“What you’re doing right now is good for what ails me,” Stone said.

“Take off your trousers and stretch out on the bed. I’ll do even better things.”

He did, and she did.

They woke up the following morning without motion or engine noises. Stone looked out a window. The sun was rising, and they were moored in a marina containing all sorts of craft, none of them the size of
Star.

Stone dressed quietly, so as not to waken Brio, then went on deck and looked around. People, mostly professional crews, were stirring on other craft, hosing down decks, boarding provisions, and sending garbage bags ashore.

Stone walked to the afterdeck, and a crew member appeared and asked if he required breakfast and if so, what? Stone had just ordered scrambled eggs and sausages when Henry Wilcox appeared on deck and put in his own order. They were brought a thermos of coffee and sat down.

“How are you this morning, Stone?” Wilcox asked.

“A little nervous,” Stone replied. “I just want to get this done and get out of here.”

Stone’s phone rang and he answered.

“It’s Faith,” she said. “We’ll be serviced and ready to taxi at ten
am
.”

“I’ll arrange for the boarding of your passenger about that time, perhaps a little earlier, if I can manage it.”

“Your two FBI special agents are boarding as we speak,” she said.

“Send everybody out for breakfast and have them back in an hour,” Stone replied. “I’ll be in touch.”

“All is well, I presume,” Wilcox said.

“All is as well as can be expected,” Stone said. Breakfast arrived, and they tucked into it. Brio arrived shortly and settled for pastries and coffee.

“Where is your airplane?” she asked.

“At the airport. So are your two agents.”

“That was my information. I think they’re ready for anything. Where is the exchange going to take place?”

“At the airplane. That’s where the money is, so if Said wants it, that’s where he’ll have to go.”

“I hope you’re more relaxed than you were last night,” she said, placing a cool hand on his cheek.

“Thanks to your ministrations, yes.”

“Anytime.”

“Henry, have you had any communication from the secretary of state?”

“Yes, and with approval of our arrangement.”

“So, you’re no longer a forger.”

“Pure as the driven snow.”

Their host, in a khaki uniform, but with his new rank displayed, appeared, greeted them one by one, and joined them, looking cheerful. “I trust you all slept well,” he said. “And if you are packed, the crew will see to your luggage soon. Are you all going to the airport?”

“Yes, we’re all traveling on the same aircraft, General.”

“Ambassador Wilcox, too?”

“I’m thumbing a ride,” Wilcox said, making hitchhiking motions.

“Ah, yes, an American expression. I saw it in an excellent film with Clark Gable.”

“And Claudette Colbert,” Brio said. “
It Happened One Night
.”

“Quite so, and it did,” Said replied. His breakfast appeared before him, and he attended to it.

“And so, Stone,” Said said, sipping his coffee. “You wish to make the exchange at your airplane?”

“That is correct. Where is Mr. Zanian?”

“He is arriving shortly, aboard his own airplane—his own until he departs in yours. The documents are all in order.” He reached into a pocket and detached a small key from a clump of others. “This is the key to Mr. Zanian’s shackles,” he said.

Stone slipped it into his pocket. “Thank you.”

“And where is your money?”

“It will appear, as if by magic, at the airplane. Shall we say, nine o’clock?”

“That will do nicely.”

Stone took a checkbook from his jacket pocket. “I’m afraid I
dipped into the valise for the charter fee of our yacht,” he said. “I hope my check for that sum will be acceptable.”

“Oh, please,” the general said, waving a hand. “Let us not quibble over small sums. Your charter is on me.”

“I would like to keep my valise,” Stone said, “since it is part of a matched set of luggage. Perhaps you could bring along something to put that part of the cash in.”

“Of course. I would not wish to spoil a matched set.”

Stone looked at his watch. “Well, we have nothing to do until we leave for the airport. What time will that be?”

“It’s not far; say, eight-thirty?”

“Excellent. Brio, are you packed?”

“Yes, my bags are on our berth, with yours.”

“Henry?”

“All ready for pick up,” Wilcox responded. Then he turned to Said. “General, perhaps you could satisfy my curiosity on your intentions toward the sultan. The secretary is concerned. He asked me about it in our conversation yesterday.”

The general leaned back in his chair. “I can give you only my current thinking,” he said. “Things could change, if he proves to be as obstreperous as he usually is.”

“Please,” Wilcox said.

“There is a small oasis, somewhere in the Arabian Desert, perhaps two or three hundred miles from anywhere, and a comfortable residence is being made ready for him there. He will be provided with everything he desires, except transportation—not so much as a camel.”

“Does his son approve?”

“His son would be harsher, if he were acting alone. He will
continue to be schooled by me in the arts of governing, with an occasional lecture on compassion.”

“Always attractive in a ruler.”

“When he is ready, I will retire.”

“To where?”

“I have a number of places in mind, one or two of them in the United States. I hope I may have your kind help in dealing with the State Department.”

“Of course, assuming they have not yet put me out to pasture.”

“They are far too wise for that,” the general said, standing. “Ah well, I have some phone calls to make. A large Mercedes van will call for us in time for an eight-thirty departure.”

They stood and saw him off, then sat again.

Wilcox poured them more coffee. “Still nervous, Stone?”

“Yes,” Stone replied. “Perhaps more than ever.”

Their transportation arrived, and Stone watched the yacht’s crew load the luggage into a rear compartment. Said appeared by the van and beckoned to them.

The van was quite luxurious inside, much like a private jet, Stone reflected. There were four seats in the rear, two facing two. They took seats as instructed by Said, and Stone found himself facing the rear, directly opposite the general.

“Are you comfortable?” Said asked him.

“Of course,” Stone replied, uncomfortably. He did not like not being able to see where they were going. The driver and another man climbed into the driver’s and front passenger’s seats. The van started and moved away from the yacht.

“Goodbye,
Star
,” Brio said as they moved away from the dock. “General, what a wonderful yacht!” she said. “Thank you so much for having us aboard.”

“It was my great pleasure,” Said replied. “It would be fun to cruise in the Med sometime, perhaps the Greek Islands?”

“
Star
is her own island,” Brio said.

Stone watched the marina disappear as they drove away. He had a view of the canal, looking out and aft, and a tanker was headed south.

“Extraordinary feat of engineering, isn’t it?” Said asked.

“ ‘Extraordinary’ is the right word,” Stone said. He suddenly found that he missed his pistol, which was in his briefcase with its holster and silencer, and the case was in the rear of the van with the luggage. Why had Wilcox asked him if he were armed? Was he expecting something Stone had missed?

After half an hour or so, they made a turn and slowed. Apparently, gates were being opened for them. The van made a left turn, then a 180 turn, and stopped. Someone opened the sliding doors next to Stone, and there stood two Gulfstream 500s.

“Which is yours?” Brio asked.

“I don’t know,” Stone said. As if to inform him, Faith appeared in the doorway of the jet to his left and walked down the airstairs to the tarmac.

Stone stepped out of the van and waited for Brio and Wilcox to join him.

Said excused himself. “I shall return with your quarry,” he said. “In the meantime, Stone, you might see your luggage aboard.”

“I need a couple of linemen,” Stone said to nobody in particular.

“How about two FBI special agents?” Brio asked.

“They should do nicely. Faith, ask them to go aft and into the rear luggage compartment.” He walked alongside the airplane in that direction. As he approached the exterior door to the rear
luggage compartment, the door slid upward to reveal two men in business suits.

“I’ll need the trunk on the left,” Stone said, pointing, “and that small valise. Then you can receive our luggage from the van and go forward to the door to receive our, ah, guest.”

They handed down the luggage, then took the newly arrived pieces and stowed them.

“Close the hatch as soon as everything is aboard,” Stone said, then watched as they did so. Then he turned around and found himself face-to-face with Viktor Zanian, who looked pale, shrunken, and defeated. He wore shackles, hand and foot, and an armed guard stood on either side of him. Said stood next to them, smiling. “I presume those packages are for me,” he said, indicating the trunk and the valise.

Stone handed him the key to the trunk. “They are. Did you bring something to replace the valise?”

Said held up a canvas carryall bag, and Stone opened the valise and emptied the contents into it. He stepped away from the trunk so that Said could have access to it.

Said knelt beside the trunk, unlocked it, and raised the lid. He smiled more broadly as he riffled through a few of the bound notes and poked around to be sure that their depth went all the way to the bottom. “So, this is what two million dollars looks like,” he said.

“Exactly like that,” Stone said.

Said closed and relocked the trunk and motioned for his people to take it away, then he embraced Stone.

“I hope it will not be too long before I see you again, Stone,” he said.

Stone returned the embrace, then handed Said his card. “My New York address and number,” he said. “I hope you will come and visit me there.”

Said’s two guards were carrying away the trunk. “Excuse me,” the general said, “I must see that they do not carry it too far.” He followed them.

Stone steered Zanian to the airstairs door and turned him over to the FBI agents. One of them held up a small suitcase. “They gave us this.”

“What’s in it?” Stone asked.

“A change of clothes, a toiletry bag, some prescription meds, a hair dryer, and a bottle of cognac.”

“Not a problem. Walk him back to the third cabin, and shackle him to something until we’ve departed. We’re stopping in the Azores for fuel, and you’ll have to reshackle him before we land.”

“Oh, and there was this,” the man said, handing Stone an envelope.

Stone looked inside and found Zanian’s American passport and a diplomatic passport from the Sultanate. “We’ll keep this for customs and immigration,” he said, handing it to Brio. “Faith, can we taxi to the runway from here?”

“Yes, we can. I’ve already got our clearance for Santa Maria. We have only to get permission to taxi.”

“Then let’s start engines and get the hell out of here,” he said.

Everybody boarded and the flight attendant pulled shut the door and locked it. Stone went aft and checked on Zanian and his guards. Everything was as it should be.

He went forward, gave his jacket to the attendant, and buckled in. They were already moving.

“You look less nervous now,” Brio said.

“I can’t believe things went exactly as they were supposed to,” Stone said. “Of course, we’re not off the ground yet. Something could still go wrong.”

“Ever the pessimist.”

They made a turn and began their takeoff roll. Shortly, the aircraft rotated and they left the earth behind.

“Better?” Brio asked.

“Much better,” Stone said, breathing deeply.