Doing Hard Time (34 page)

“Just watch,” he said, “don’t fire. If you fired six rounds in this restaurant, you’d hit four diners and me.”

“But I did well today—you said so!”

“You did, but you weren’t under any pressure, and you didn’t have to act quickly. That’s shooting we can do at another training session on the range, but not at Spago.”

“Oh, all right, but if I can’t shoot, why am I watching your back?”

“If you see the Viper, tell me, and I’ll do the shooting.”

• • •

After dinner, Teddy said, “I’ll take you back to the hangar, then I want to borrow your car. I’ll be out all night.”

“Who is she?” Betsy asked, archly.

“Don’t ask. And if anybody else asks, I slept next to you all night.”

“I want to clean out the rest of our things from the apartment,” she said. “Why don’t I do that tonight?”

“Not tonight,” Teddy said. “Tomorrow night, if we’re lucky.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked.

“Lots of things,” he said, “but none of them tonight.”

He caught Stone Barrington’s eye as they waited for their cars from the valet, and they exchanged a nod. It was on.

Stone and Emma renewed their acquaintance in bed after dinner.

“Stone,” Emma said, when they were done but still lying in each other’s arms, “Tessa doesn’t want to go back to London, but I’m making her. Am I doing the right thing?”

“How do you make her go back?” Stone asked. “She seems like a self-operating adult to me.”

“A mother has ways.”

“Guilt?”

“Guilt is very helpful with Tessa,” Emma said, “but I try to rely on logic and appeal to her better nature.”

“And that works?” Stone asked, surprised.

“She’s a
responsible
adult.”

“So, if she’s so responsible, what’s the problem with leaving her in L.A.?”

“She’s half in love with Ben. I’m afraid they’ll marry.”

“Emma, you need to look into your own psyche, not into what you imagine are Tessa’s inclinations. But if you want to look at marriage as a worst-case scenario, Ben Bacchetti is a very worthwhile young man. Anyway, kids live together these days, instead of marrying.”

“But
Hollywood
? She could have a grand career on the London stage.”

“Making Hollywood movies—good ones—is no bar to appearing on the London stage. You’ve got to learn to trust your daughter’s judgment.”

“I do, but . . .”

“It’s the ‘but’ you’ve got to deal with.”

“I know.”

“I think the problem is not where Tessa lives, but where she lives in relation to you. Why don’t you open an office out here and spend some time running it?”

“I already have a small office here.”

“Enlarge it—move some of your operations here from New York. I’ll bet a lot of your employees here would jump at the chance to move to the Coast.”

“You really think so? New Yorkers?”

“I really think so. A lot of Londoners would, too, and you’re a Londoner. It’s not like you have to spend
all
your time here.”

“I’ll think about that.”

“What time is your airplane tomorrow?”

“Two
PM
.”

“Sleep on it, and make a decision in the morning.”

She burrowed into his shoulder. “Good idea.”

• • •

Stone tried to sleep but couldn’t; he stared at the ceiling, tried to daydream, but the only thing he could think of was the box of flowers on the backseat of his car.

He waited until five
AM
to go into the study to call Dino.

“You’re up early,” Dino said.

“I haven’t been to sleep.”

“I thought you were the world’s champion sleeper.”

“I thought so, too.”

“Okay, tell me about it.”

“Majorov is here, and he’s brought an assassin with him from New York, a Russian.”

Dino let a beat pass before he responded. “Anybody I know?”

“His name is Vladimir—”

“The Viper? Jesus!”

“That’s not the worst of it. He’s more interested in Peter than me.”

“Then why haven’t you killed him yet?”

“That’s why I couldn’t sleep.”

“You planning to do him yourself?”

“I’m about to set him up for someone else.”

“That Billy character?”

“Yes. I need your advice on this, pal. I’ve never been a party to murder before.”

“Here’s my advice,” Dino said. “Don’t get caught.”

“That’s good advice,” Stone said.

“Let me know how it comes out.”

“Will do.”

“And good luck.”

“Thanks, Dino.”

“You’re welcome, Stone, and for what it’s worth, if it were Ben at risk, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I guess I should have known that. Bye.” Stone hung up, took a deep breath, went back to the bedroom, and got dressed. Emma was snoring lightly when he left. He had crumbled an Ambien into her brandy glass at bedtime.

He had some orange juice and a cup of coffee, checking his watch regularly. Finally, he went upstairs, got into a dark golf jacket and a baseball cap and a pair of driving gloves.

He ran his pistol onto his belt, took a deep breath, and left the house by the rear door.

Teddy had arrived at the Bel-Air by five
AM
, leaving his car up Stone Canyon and walking down the hill to the rear of the hotel, wearing a black sweater over a white shirt, black trousers, black rubber-soled slippers, and latex surgical gloves. He carried his silenced pistol in a holster under the sweater and a switchblade knife in a hip pocket.

Majorov’s suite was the second up the hill from the rear service road, and Teddy was through the hedge and over the wall very quickly, landing lightly on his feet. A streetlight cast some light on the suite’s patio, and he moved into a shadow and waited for three or four minutes. The Viper was probably a light sleeper, and if he heard anything he would come out armed.

There were three sets of French doors, one for each bedroom and one for the living room. Teddy checked all three and in one bedroom found Majorov’s bulk visible by the light of a television set that he had failed to turn off before falling asleep. He went back to the patio outside the other bedroom, half expecting to encounter the assassin on his way.

Nothing happened. Teddy carefully picked up a chair from the patio and moved it into a dark corner, then he crept to the French doors and listened for movement inside. All he heard was snoring. He stared through the glass into the room and located the bed with its sleeping lump, dimly lit by a night-light. When his eyes had adjusted better he saw, on the bedside table, a silenced pistol. Vlad was a cautious man.

He put his hand on the doorknob and tried turning it. Locked. He had expected as much, and he had come prepared. He removed a strip of sturdy but flexible plastic from his pocket and inserted it between the door and the jamb. He probed until he felt the bias-cut bolt begin to open, then he stopped, leaving the plastic strip in place.

He went to the chair in the corner and settled into it; he had a couple of hours to wait. He switched on his iPhone, turned down the backlighting a bit, then went to the
New York Times
website and began reading the front page.

• • •

Stone let himself out of the house and got into Peter’s Cayenne. It was parked on an incline out back, where he had left it after visiting the florist, so he let it roll for a hundred yards before starting the engine. He rolled up to a back gate, and it opened automatically at the approach of his car.

The drive to the Bel-Air took only three minutes, and the sun was up now. Twenty-five past seven. He parked the car just up the street from the rear gate of the hotel, and then he got lucky. He looked around a hedge and saw the guard on duty at the back gate leave his sentry box, presumably in search of a toilet.

Stone managed a brisk walk, without appearing to be in too much of a hurry. As he walked, he rubbed his gloved hands over the spots on the flower box where he might have left fingerprints. He turned right and climbed a few steps, passing a room service waiter carrying a tray of dirty dishes, then he saw what he needed. He walked over to a guest door and removed the
DO NOT DISTURB
sign, then he walked a few steps more and found the correct suite number on a door. He hung the sign on the doorknob, leaned the box against the door, took a deep breath, and repeatedly rang the doorbell, then he turned and retraced his steps to the car. The security man had still not returned.

He had seen no one but the room service waiter, and the man had carried his tray on his shoulder, so that it blocked his view of Stone as they passed. He drove back to The Arrington and punched the code into the box outside the gate. It opened slowly.

He put the car away and went back into the house, tiptoeing up the stairs to the master bedroom, then he undressed in his dressing room and got back into bed with Emma.

He worked at relaxing, until his heart rate was normal.

• • •

At six-thirty, Teddy heard a door to the patio behind him open. He froze and switched off his phone. Then he heard singing from a gruff, baritone voice. Majorov in the shower.

At seven o’clock, with the sky lightening, Teddy moved to a position that allowed him a full view of Vlad’s bedroom and, through the open door, a view of the front entrance. Shortly, Majorov appeared, opened the front door, and closed it behind him. On his way to breakfast.

Teddy watched closely to see if Majorov’s moving around had wakened Vlad, but the man continued to lie on his back, snoring. He waited, trying to stay relaxed, for the sound of the doorbell.

It came at the stroke of seven-thirty, then again and again. Vlad stirred, then sat up and shook his head, as if he couldn’t identify the sound. Then, muttering, he put his feet over the side of the bed and walked toward the front door. As he did, the bedsheet moved back, revealing the butt of a shotgun. The man slept with a shotgun in bed!

Teddy moved quickly, now; he pressed home the plastic strip, moved the bolt back, opened the door, and stepped inside. He moved quickly to the side of the bed where the pistol rested on the bedside table, then slid behind the drawn curtain. He drew his pistol and flipped off the safety.

He heard a flower box being thrown across the room and a spate of swearing in Russian. Then Vlad stumbled back into the bedroom, muttering, and got back into bed. Shortly, he was snoring again.

Teddy peeked from behind the curtain and found not the sleeping figure he had expected, but a man sitting up in bed pointing a silenced pistol directly at him. He was still snoring, but he was smiling, too.

“Good morning, Mr. Burnett,” Vlad said.

Teddy fired through the curtain at where he thought Vlad would be, then he pushed back the heavy cloth with his gun raised, ready to fire again. Vlad was gone.