Dishonorable Intentions

FICTION

Family Jewels
†

Scandalous Behavior
†

Foreign Affairs
†

Naked Greed
†

Hot Pursuit
†

Insatiable Appetites
†

Paris Match
†

Cut and Thrust
†

Carnal Curiosity
†

Standup Guy
†

Doing Hard Time
†

Unintended Consequences
†

Collateral Damage
†

Severe Clear
†

Unnatural Acts
†

D.C. Dead
†

Son of Stone
†

Bel-Air Dead
†

Strategic Moves
†

Santa Fe Edge
§

Lucid Intervals
†

Kisser
†

Hothouse Orchid*

Loitering with Intent
†

Mounting Fears
‡

Hot Mahogany
†

Santa Fe Dead
§

Beverly Hills Dead

Shoot Him If He Runs
†

Fresh Disasters
†

Short Straw
§

Dark Harbor
†

Iron Orchid*

Two-Dollar Bill
†

The Prince of Beverly Hills

Reckless Abandon
†

Capital Crimes
‡

Dirty Work
†

Blood Orchid*

The Short Forever
†

Orchid Blues*

Cold Paradise
†

L.A. Dead
†

The Run
‡

Worst Fears Realized
†

Orchid Beach*

Swimming to Catalina
†

Dead in the Water
†

Dirt
†

Choke

Imperfect Strangers

Heat

Dead Eyes

L.A. Times

Santa Fe Rules
§

New York Dead
†

Palindrome

Grass Roots
‡

White Cargo

Under the Lake

Deep Lie
‡

Run Before the Wind
‡

Chiefs
‡

TRAVEL

A Romantic's Guide to the Country Inns of Britain and Ireland
(1979)

MEMOIR

Blue Water, Green Skipper

*A Holly Barker Novel

†A Stone Barrington Novel

‡A Will Lee Novel

§An Ed Eagle
Novel

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

Publishers Since 1838

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

375 Hudson Street

New York, New York 10014

Copyright © 2016 by Stuart Woods

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

eBook ISBN 9780399573934

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is for Karen and Bob
Copeland.

S
tone Barrington spotted the Santa Fe airport ten miles out. “Albuquerque Center, November One, Two, Three, Tango Foxtrot has the airport in sight.”

“N123TF, contact the tower on 119.5. Good day to you.”

“Good day.” He tuned into the channel. “Santa Fe tower, N123TF nine miles to the north at ten thousand. Request straight in for runway two zero.”

“N123TF, I have you in sight. Cleared for the visual to two zero.”

“Tango Fox, cleared for the visual.” Stone lined up on the runway, reduced power, put in his first notch of flaps, and dialed in eight thousand feet. The autopilot began the descent. Five miles out, he dropped the landing gear, slowing the airplane further, then put in 35 degrees of flaps and let the airplane slow to approach speed.

At the sound of the gear lowering, Bob, Stone's trusty yellow Labrador retriever, left his bed in the passenger compartment, jumped up on a seat, and looked out the window.

At five hundred feet above ground level, Stone slowed to reference speed of 107 knots, crossed the runway threshold, and settled smoothly onto the tarmac. As he put in the final notch of flaps to dump lift and began to brake, he spotted the Aston Martin parked on the ramp outside Landmark Aviation and the tall blond woman in sweater and slacks leaning against it.

He turned off the runway, stopped, and ran his after-landing checklist, then called the tower and was cleared to taxi to the ramp. A lineman waved him in next to the Aston Martin, then chocked the nosewheel. Stone pulled the throttles to the shutoff position and waited for the engines to spool down before turning off the main switch, which shut down the instrument panel. He struggled out of his seat, opened the cabin door, grabbed his briefcase, kicked down the folding stairs, and allowed Bob to deplane first.

Gala Wilde met them at the bottom of the steps, planted an enthusiastic kiss on Stone's lips, and scratched Bob's back. “Welcome back,” she said. “We've got dinner at seven at the Eagles' house.” Gala was the sister of Mrs. Ed Eagle, Susannah Wilde.

Stone retrieved his overnight bag from the forward luggage compartment and tossed it into the rear of the Aston Martin along with his briefcase, which used nearly all of the available luggage space, then got into the passenger seat and let Bob crowd in beside him. “I'm ready for a drink,” he said.

“Sadly, I don't keep the stuff in the car, so you'll have to wait another twenty minutes.”

“I'll try, but I may get the shakes. Flying always makes me thirsty.”

She started the engine, which emitted a pleasing, guttural noise, then waited for the gate to open. “Good flight?”

“Boring flight—the best kind. I read the
Times
and did the crossword.”

“Good crossword?”

“Saturdays are always a bitch. They're the most fun.”

“Thank you, I think.”

Stone laughed. “That wasn't a personal reference.”

Twenty minutes later they pulled into the driveway of her house in the village of Tesuque, on the northern rim of Santa Fe. He grabbed his luggage and followed her to the master suite, while Bob paused to inspect the grass, then followed. Stone dumped his bags in the master bedroom and followed her into the kitchen sitting room, where a leather-covered rolling bar held a nest of bottles. Bob settled for Tesuque well water.

“Knob Creek?”

“Of course.”

“Have you tried their rye?”

“Didn't know there was one.”

“There is. Shall I pour you one?”

“Go ahead, I'll be brave.”

She handed him a glass and poured herself one. They both sipped.

“That's really good,” Stone said. “I haven't drunk a lot of rye.”

“I hadn't either, until I discovered it at a bourbon bar at a restaurant in town.” She sank down beside him on the sofa. A cheery fire of piñon wood crackled in the fireplace.

“A bourbon bar? Never seen one of those, but it sounds like a good idea. What's happening with your screenplay?”

“The plan is for Ben Bacchetti to sign his first production order on Monday morning, and it's my screenplay.”

“He'll be signing it as head of production,” Stone said. “Leo Goldman isn't quite ready to relinquish his title as CEO. He's unwell, though, so it might only be a matter of months before he moves over.”

“How does Peter feel about losing his production partner?”

“He's not losing him, Ben will still produce their pictures personally, at least until he becomes CEO.”

“He'll be a busy fellow.”

“He seems to like it that way. Peter says Ben always got bored while they were waiting for production approval. That won't be a problem anymore. By the way, I'm joining the Centurion board on Monday morning.”

“What do you know about motion pictures?”

“Well, I've seen a lot of them. That seems to be the only qualification of half the movie executives in L.A.”

“You're right about that.”

“Of course, Peter's trust and I, combined, are the largest stockholders of the company.”

“I suppose he inherited his stock from Vance Calder.” Calder
was the late movie star who had been Peter's stepfather. His mother, Arrington, had married Calder while pregnant with Stone's son.

“He did.”

“How about you?”

“I've been buying the stock for years from people who were required to divest on retirement. It adds up over time.”

“What are the duties of a director of the company?”

“Four board meetings a year, plus an occasional special meeting, when circumstances require.”

“And for that you get what?”

“Money and the use of the corporate jet at half the company's cost.”

“But you have your own jet.”

“True, but it's nice to have access to a brand-new Gulfstream 650 when traveling long distances, and they might even let me fly right seat sometimes. I'm getting qualified in it.”

“And how long will that take?”

“A month or more, but it will be fun, as well as hard work. I've already done three weeks of it. They'll let me finish up when I can find the time.”

“I get the impression that your time is pretty much your own,” she said.

“It's surprising how much law you can practice with an iPhone and a computer. I've even attended board meetings on Skype, while at my house in England.”

“I'm looking forward to seeing that house.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Well, it's not as though the production company is glad to see me after they've started shooting. They regard the writer as excess baggage once the production order is signed.”

“Will you start a new one soon?”

“I'm always working, and I have a good idea for a new one.”

“Think you can write in England?”

“I don't see why not.” She looked at her watch. “We've got an hour before dinner. Do you think we could find something to do until then?”

“My intentions are thoroughly dishonorable,” he said, kissing her.

“Sofa or bed?”

“It's a big sofa.”

Buttons, snaps, and garments came undone.