D.C. Dead (2 page)

“Actually, you continued to do that, at least until you and Arrington got married.”

Stone managed a smile. “If anything, the activity increased after that.”

“I’m getting worried about you, kiddo,” Dino said. “You’re gonna have to get back in the saddle pretty soon or you’re gonna forget how.”

“Yeah, I think about that a lot. It’s just that . . . well, it’s like not being hungry at dinnertime. I just don’t have an appetite.”

Dino turned and watched as a very pretty brunette in a short skirt came through the door and took a seat at the bar, crossing her long legs. “Doesn’t that do anything for you?”

“Sort of,” Stone replied. “I mean, I remember what it was like, the way you remember how you roller-skated when you were a kid, but it just isn’t all thamil’t alt appealing.”

Dino felt for Stone’s pulse and looked at his watch. “Your vital signs seem normal.”

“That’s something, I guess.”

“Look who’s here,” Dino said, nodding toward the door.

Stone turned in time to see a tall redhead in a well-cut pantsuit enter the restaurant. She headed for their table and sat down. “Hello, sailors,” she said, leering a little.

Stone leaned over and kissed her. “Hello, Holly. What brings you to town?”

Dino kissed her, too. “Same question here.”

“Agency business,” Holly Barker replied. She was an assistant deputy director for the CIA. “I hope you guys remember that you’re still under contract to us as consultants.”

“How could we forget?” Stone asked. “Lance keeps reminding us.” Lance Cabot was Holly’s boss, deputy director for operations, or DDO.

“Well, fellas, you’re about to get the call again.”

Stone slumped. “Now what?”

“I can’t tell you,” Holly replied.

“Can’t tell us what?” Dino asked.

“That’s what I can’t tell you, dummy,” she said.

“What kind of deal is this?” Stone asked.

“Here’s the deal: you get the daily rate specified in your contract and five hundred per diem.”

“For how long?” Dino asked.

“That depends on how good you are,” she said.

“Who can live on five hundred a day?” Stone asked.

“Clearly, you’ve been living too well,” Holly replied. “If you stay at a Holiday Inn Express, and eat at McDonald’s, you can make money on that. Would you like my office to book you in?”

“Thanks,” Stone said. “I’ll make my own arrangements.”

“He’ll make mine, too,” Dino said. “He’s a regular travel agent.”

“As you wish,” Holly said.

“Come on, give us a hint.”

“Here’s the only hint you’re going to get,” Holly said. “I’ll have a car left for you at the Manassas, Virginia, airport. There’ll be an envelope locked in the glove compartment containing your credentials.”

“Credentials?” Dino asked. “You think we don’t know who we are?”

“Sure,” Holly said, “but nobody in Washington does. You’ll have to prove it, especially at the White House.”

“Which White House is that?” Stone asked.

“The
only
one,” Holly said. “Find yourselves hotel rooms, then be there at six sharp tomorrow evening, freshly scrubbed and pressed. If you’re lucky, you’ll get dinner, but don’t count on it.”

“Is it black tie?” Stone asked.

“You’re not
that
important,” Holly said. “Just wear one of your nice suits.”

“The blue or the pinstripe?” Stone asked.

“Your choice, sweetie. By the way, I’m very so"3"’m verry for your loss.”

“Thank you. I got your very nice letter. I’m afraid I haven’t responded to all those yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“How are you and the boyfriend doing?” Dino asked.

“He’s running a big trauma center in San Diego,” she replied. “He didn’t take to the agency life—not enough blood and guts, I guess. It’s been a couple of months. It was amicable.”

“Let me get you a drink and a menu,” Stone said.

“Love to, but can’t,” she said. “There’s a chopper waiting for me at the West Side heliport, and I’ve got a briefcase full of work to keep me awake on the flight home.” She stood up, and both men stood up with her.

“See you tomorrow evening,” she said, then walked briskly out.

They sat down again.

“Why did you ask her about the boyfriend?” Stone asked.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t,” Dino replied.

2

STONE PACKED A BAG THE FOLLOWING MORNING, THEN, ON second thought, packed a second bag. The last time he had consulted for the CIA, he, Holly, and Dino had spent a couple of weeks on a tropical isle, pursuing a federal fugitive named Teddy Fay, who gave them the slip. Who knew how long this one would take or where they would end up?

He took the elevator down to the garage and put his bags in the car, then he went to his office and wondered what to put in his briefcase.

Joan Robertson, his secretary, appeared in the doorway. “You off to someplace?”

“To Washington—for a few days, I think.”

“Could be longer?”

“It’s one of those things for Lance Cabot and Holly Barker. Who knows?”

“You’d better take your passport,” she said, opening his safe and tossing him the document.

“I’d take my vaccinations, if I knew which ones to take,” he replied.

“You don’t look very happy about this,” Joan said, pouring him a cup of coffee.

“I’m not unhappy about it,” Stone replied. “If I’m unhappy at all, it’s about Peter’s being off at Yale.”

“How did yesterday go?”

Stone shrugged. “Bittersweet. I’m happy for Peter, getting what he wants, but I miss him already.”

“So do I,” Joan said. “It was a nice change from it being just you all the time.”

“You’ll have Allison to talk to,” Stone said, referring to the Woodman & Weld associate who had been assigned to his office, “and that means you’ll have Herbie Fisher dropping by at every opportunity just because Allison is here.”

“I hear on the secretarial grapevine that Herbie is already making his mark at the firm,” Joan said, “working long hours, being smart. He’s got the other associates coming to him for answers.”

“Who knew that Herbie would turn out so well?” Stone said. “I personally thought he’d be dead or in prison by now.”

“Better haircuts and suits seemed to improve him,” Joan said, “and the lottery win didn’t hurt.”

“I hope he’s still got some of it,” Stone said.

The bell rang, and Joan went to let Dino in. She took his bags to the garage.

“Coffee before we blast off?” Stone asked.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Dino said, accepting a cup. “Has Holly called and told you what this is all about?”

Stone sat down and sipped his coffee. “Nope. I’m as much in the dark as you are.”

“That used to be kind of exciting,” Dino said, “not knowing what’s going to happen.”

“You’re depressed,” Stone said.

“I am?” Dino said, looking surprised.

“About Ben going away to college.”

“Oh, that. Yeah. You too.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I have an idea,” Dino said. “Let’s go to Washington and find out what the hell this is all about. It might improve our dispositions.”

“Good idea,” Stone said, putting his coat on. “Let’s get out of here.”

THEY WERE AT TETERBORO AIRPORT in half an hour, and it took Stone another forty-five minutes to do a preflight inspection of his Citation Mustang, get a clearance to Manassas, and taxi to the runway. Shortly, they were cleared for takeoff. Stone shoved the throttles all the way forward, waited for ninety knots, then rotated. The little jet roared off the runway like a big bird. Stone contacted New York Departure, got a vector and a new altitude, and they were off.

Another three-quarters of an hour and they were settling onto the runway at Manassas. A lineman directed them to a parking spot, and someone drove a black SUV over to the airplane and parked it near the door.

“That must be our car,” Dino said.

“Who would give us a black SUV but the CIA?” Stone asked.

The lineman took their bags from the forward luggage compartment and stowed them in the rear of the vehicle, then Stone registered with the FBO (Fixed Base Operator) and gave them a credit card for refueling.

“I’ll drive,” Dino said. “I know the city better than you.”

“Nevertheless, I hope there’s a map in the car,” Stone said.

He got into the passenger seat, and Dino got behind the wheel. “I’m going to need the car key to open the glove box,” Stone said.

Dino handed him the keys, and Stone examined them carefully. There were just two: an ordinary car key and another that looked like something off the space shuttle. He inserted that key into the large, nonstandard lock on the glove box and opened it. Inside he found two holstered SIG Sauer P239 9mm pistols with an extra magazine for each, and a box of cartridges.

“Why do we need to be armed to go to the White House?” Stone said. “They’ll just take them away from us as soon as we get there.”

“Just leave them in the glove compartment,” Dino said. “Is there anything else in there?”

Stone removed a thick black envelope and pulled a tab that broke the seal. v we the sHe shook out the contents onto the glove box door and looked at the four plastic cards that came out.

“Okay, we’ve got two White House passes marked ‘Staff,’ and two wallets with CIA ID cards.” He handed one of each to Dino, who examined them.

“Looks like we clip the White House passes to our lapels. What do we do with the CIA IDs?”

“I don’t know. They’ve never given us those before,” Stone replied.

Dino clipped the White House pass to his lapel, stuck the CIA wallet in his inside pocket, and started the car. “Oh,” he said, “here’s the map from the door pocket. Keep me out of trouble.”

Stone opened the map and found Manassas, then found the White House. “First,” he said, “drive out the gate.”

Dino did so, and a minute or two later they were driving north on the interstate. “Hey,” he said, “I forgot to ask where we’re staying.”

“At the Hay-Adams,” Stone said. “Sixteenth and H Streets.”

“And how do I get there?”

“It’s across Lafayette Park from the White House.”

“And how do I get there?”

Stone consulted the map. “Straight ahead. I’ll let you know when to turn. This is your local knowledge?”

“Right. You give me directions,” Dino said, “and my local knowledge will get you there.”

3

THEY CHECKED IN, AND A BELLMAN TOOK THEM TO THE TOP floor of the hotel, thence to a pair of double doors.

“We need two doors?” Dino asked.

The bellman opened the door, and they walked into a large sitting room. Stone gave the bellman a fifty. “His room is the worst one,” he said, indicating Dino.

“They’re both very nice,” the bellman said, hesitating.

“How about the smallest bathroom?” Stone asked.

“Once again, both very nice.”

“Okay,” Stone said, pointing to the door on his right, “put my bags in that one.”

Dino went and opened the door to his room. “Can we manage this on five hundred per diem?”

Stone shook his head. “I’m splurging. It’s the first time I’ve spent any of Arrington’s bequest. You can chip in half your per diem.”

“Deal,” Dino said, walking into his room. The bellman followed with his bags.

Stone went into his room, unpacked his bags, and put things in dresser drawers. He grabbed a handful of things on hangers and gave them to the bellman. “Pressed and back in an hour?”

“Better make it an hour and a half,” the man said. “You’ve got a lot of stuff here.”

Dino added some things to his burden, and the man left. Dino walked over to a set of French doors and opened them. “Wow,” he said.

“Wow what?”

“Come out here and look at this.”

Stone walked out and found himself on a terrace, nicely furnished. Then he looked out over op!Lafayette Park and saw the White House, neatly framed by trees. “Wow,” he said.

“How much are you paying for this?” Dino asked.

“I don’t want to know,” Stone said. “I never again want to know how much anything costs.”

“Let’s keep this gig going as long as we can,” Dino said. “How about some lunch on our terrace?”

They ordered from room service and were soon sitting on their terrace, allowing the air-conditioning to waft through the French doors to combat the August heat in Washington. They ate, and stared at the White House.

“There are people on the roof,” Stone said.

“Well-armed people, no doubt,” Dino replied, popping a French fry into his mouth. “And I’ll bet those box things conceal ground-to-air missiles.”

“Don’t do anything threatening,” Stone said. “They could put one right through the French doors.”

“You still have no idea why we’re here?” Dino asked.

“I haven’t received any messages from the ether,” Stone replied.

STONE WAS STRETCHED OUT on his bed, watching MSNBC on the large flat-screen TV, when the bellman returned with his clothes and hung them in the closet.

“I hope you’ll be very comfortable here,” the man said, doing the bellman shuffle.

Stone gave him a twenty. “We’ll struggle through,” he said.