Two Dollar Bill (24 page)

He peeked around the corner of the house and saw a cigarette glow in the darkness. One of McGonigle's team. His house was only fifty or sixty feet away, separated from the mother property by a high hedge. Stone ran along the hedge and around a corner. He was in full view of the Rocks's driveway, and if anybody drove in, he would be caught in the headlights.

He ran toward the road, looking for a gap in the hedge that had once been a passage between the main house and the gatehouse. It was mostly grown over, but it allowed him to push through the hedge without going to the main road, which might be watched.

He crept across the lawn to the kitchen door of his house and let himself in with his key. From there he ran upstairs in the dark to his bedroom and went to his dressing room. He had to feel for the keypad on the safe, but after a couple of tries, he got it open.

He stuck his small.45 in his pocket and a couple of extra magazines, then he took the box containing the little Keltec.380 that Lance had given him and went back downstairs. He let himself out the kitchen door and walked as quietly around the house as he could, looking for guards. He saw none.

His car was standing where he had left it, and there was no way to keep the interior light from coming on when he opened the door, so he did it and got in as quickly as he could. He put his key into the ignition and turned it to the first position, to disable the ignition lock, then he reached up and turned off the interior light, so it wouldn't come on when he opened the door.

He got out of the car and, with the door open and his hand near the steering wheel, put his shoulder against the central pillar and began pushing the car backward. There was a slight incline to the street, and he picked up speed, turning the wheel when he had to. Once in the street, he continued pushing the car backward until he was nearly to the church. Then he got into the car, started it and, with the lights off, turned past the church and drove down to the main road. He drove past a number of the Gunnery school buildings and took his first right, before he switched on the headlights. He felt exhilarated, as if he had broken out of prison, but he had only a few minutes before they began knocking on the bathroom door, looking for him.

He couldn't call Dino yet, because he wouldn't get cell-phone reception until Bridgewater, if then. He concentrated on driving fast on the curvy country road, much faster than usual. He wanted to get as far away from Washington as he could, as quickly as he could.

Fifteen minutes later he was in Bridgewater, and he switched on his cell phone. The signal was weak, but he finally found a part of the road where it was stronger, where he pulled over and called Dino's cell phone.

Bacchetti.

It's Stone.

Okay, I finally got hold of the parole officer, at home. Rocco Bocca is living at his sister's house in Queens, and I've got two guys watching it. There are two cars in the driveway, so he might be home.

Do this, Stone said. Have the detectives knock on the door and ask to see him. Tell him, or whoever's there, that they're checking his alibi for a burglary that fits his MO. At least we'll know whether he's home.

Okay. You on your cell?

Yes, I got away from the group.

What about Peter?

He'll be fine with them; he likes the female agent.

Are you coming back to the city?

Yes, but I don't want to go home; somebody might be watching.

My place?

No. Are you at home?

On the way.

Don't go there. Go to the Carlyle and get a room, under the name of Bocca. I'll come there.

Okay; I'll go there now.

Stone hung up the phone, which rang immediately. That would be Lance. They would have missed him by now. He didn't answer.

He headed toward the city, staying off the interstate. It would take him longer, but he would be harder to spot. He felt better now, though there was not much reason to. At least he was doing something.

STONE'S CELL PHONE continued to ring, and finally, he switched it off. He entered the city from the East Side and drove to the Carlyle, parking in their garage. From the lobby, he asked for Mr. Bocca's room, and called Dino for the room number.

Dino let him into a very nice suite. The manager is doing me a favor, he said. You had dinner?

Half a slice of pizza, two hours ago. What's happening?

Bocca is at his sister's house, and the two detectives are sitting on him. They did the number about his alibi, told him he was clear and left. He's none the wiser. You may as well order some dinner.

Stone got the room service menu and ordered a steak and half a bottle of wine, while Dino poured him a bourbon from the wet bar. Then Stone called his home number and checked for messages.

Hey, Stone, Billy Bob's voice said. I'm ready to meet you now. What we're going to do is set up an exchange of Arrington for you. She's a pain in the ass, you know? Yeah, you know. I want to get rid of her, so I'm going to set up something for tomorrow afternoon around three. I'll call your cell phone number, and you'd better answer it, if you want to see her again. I'll give you instructions then. You get one shot at getting her back, and one shot only, so you'd better make it work. If you get the cops involved, or your CIA buddies, then people will die, among them Arrington and you. You dream about that tonight, and I'll call you midafternoon tomorrow. He erased the message and hung up.

That was Billy Bob, he said, and he repeated the message to Dino.

When we get the instructions, we'll set something up, Dino said.

It's going to be tough. Lance has probably heard the message, too, and he'll be all over us, if he finds out where we are.

Some of his people were following me; I told him to hold them off, that my guys could take care of it, and I think he did. I made sure I wasn't followed here.

Stone's steak came, and he ate it hungrily, not having had much food for twenty-four hours. Then he stretched out on one of the beds and took a nap.

DINO SHOOK HIM AWAKE. Bocca's on the move, he said.

What time is it?

A little after one A. M. I'm on the cell phone with my guys. He's headed toward the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge.

So Billy Bob is in Manhattan?

He may be on his way to New Jersey, for all we know, Dino said. Let's just sit tight until we know more.

Let's sit tight in your car, Stone said. We might have to move fast when we learn more.

Dino spoke into his cell phone. I'm going to my car. Call me in five minutes and let me know where you are.

Stone and Dino went downstairs to where Dino's car was waiting at the Seventy-sixth Street entrance to the hotel. They got into the backseat, and Dino told his driver to start the car. A moment later, Dino's cell phone rang.

Yeah? Dino listened.

We'll pick you up at Seventy-sixth and Third, Dino said, then we'll play switch with the two cars. He hung up and spoke to his driver. Get us over to Third fast; use the lights to get across Park and Lex, but no siren, and turn off the lights after Lex.

The driver switched on the lights and moved down Seventy-sixth Street, made his way across Park against the lights, crossed Lex and switched off his flashing light.

Dino got back on his cell phone and pressed the speaker button. Where are you?

We caught a light at Seventy-first, but we're moving again, crossing Seventy-second, the detective said.

What's our guy driving?

A beat-up Ford van, tan in color, New York plates. They gave him the number. We're in a gray Toyota.

I'll pick him up at Seventy-sixth, and you drop back, but keep me in sight. I'm in a black Crown Vic.

Gotcha.

When the light turns green, turn left on Third and double-park on the right, Dino said.

The driver followed instructions, and a moment later, the van passed them.

Now, you're the tail, Dino said. Stay well back, but don't lose him. He spoke into the cell phone. If you see our turn indicator go on, he's turning in the opposite direction at the next corner, and you pick up the tail.

Gotcha.

They followed the tan van up Third Avenue to Eighty-sixth, where it turned right.

Give a left-turn signal and make a left, Dino said, then make a U-turn in the middle of the block. Don't use your turn indicator.

Stone looked back as the gray Toyota turned down Eighty-sixth after the van. A moment later, they made a U-turn and were back on the chase.

Okay our guys are making a left-turn signal, Dino said. The van is turning right on Second; follow him.

Right, the driver replied.

Now the van drove down Second Avenue. There was little traffic, so Dino's driver stayed well back, and he and the Toyota changed positions frequently.

What's he doing? Stone asked.

He's looking for a tail, Dino's driver replied, pulling over and double-parking in front of a news shop, to let the Toyota pass.

Don't worry, he's not going to make us, Dino said. This guy's a burglar; he don't know from tails.

The van went down to Twenty-third Street, made a right, went to Madison and made another right.

This could go on all night, Stone said.

We got all night, Dino replied.

We'd better think about what we're going to do when he stops, Stone said.

Call in the cavalry?

There are five of us; let's keep it to that. We're not storming a military installation. And we're not going in anywhere, unless we have reason to believe Arrington is there.

Your call, Dino said. Hang on, the guy's turning right on Thirty-second Street, Dino said into his cell phone.

They did their trick and switched cars again. Dino's driver made a U-turn and followed.

He's stopping in the middle of the block, a voice said from the cell phone. It's a bar. I'm driving past him. He found a parking place, and he's going in.

Dino watched Bocca go into the bar as they passed. They turned a corner and Dino told his driver to stop.

Okay, on foot, now, Dino said into the cell phone. You two guys walk past the place, one on each side of the street. Position yourselves where you can see the entrance, but where you can't be seen. If he gets back into the van, call me. Look for more than just him leaving; look for a woman.

You think we ought to go in? Stone asked.

The guy could just be having a drink, you know. We go in, we're blown.

What do you suggest?

Wait him out. If he leaves, we follow. If he leaves with a woman, we pounce. If the woman isn't Arrington, we sweat him.

Makes sense to me, Stone said.

I'll take the first nap, Dino replied. He turned up the collar of his overcoat, rested his head against the back of the seat and immediately seemed to fall asleep.

Stone just sat and waited.

STONE WAS DREAMING that he was in bed with Arrington, when he suddenly woke to find himself in the backseat of a cop car. Dino and his driver were nowhere to be seen. He shook his head to clear it, then got out of the car and looked around. Nobody in sight. He walked to the corner and peered around the building into the block where the bar was. He could see nobody not Dino's two cops, not the driver, not Dino. What the hell was going on?

As he watched, Dino and his driver came out of the bar and began walking back toward their car. Stone was waiting for them when they rounded the corner.

What the hell are you doing? he asked.

Relax, we just went in and had a drink, chatted with the bartender.

Two to one he made you as cops.

You think I don't know how not to act like a cop? Jesus, Stone.

What did you find out?

There's an all-night poker game going on in the back room of the bar.

That's what the bartender told you?

After I bought him a couple of twelve-year-old Scotches. I'm invited to come back and play tomorrow night; their rule is no new players when a guy first finds out about the game.

Why do you think he was telling the truth?

Two other guys went back there while we were drinking. It looks like a game; it smells like a game. When the door opened, it sounded like a game.

They got back into the car. Are we going to sit in on a poker game all night?

You got a better idea?

What was the other guy's name? The one who owns the other set of prints found in my house?

Martin Block. No criminal record in any database.

Get somebody to find out more about him. Just because he doesn't have a record doesn't mean he's not a criminal. After all, he was in my house, and I didn't invite him.

Dino made a call to the squad room, then hung up. They'll get back to me. Why are you so interested in this Martin Block?

I told you, he was in my house. He cannot be a good guy.

Maybe he works for the phone company you think of that? Dino's phone rang, and he answered it. Yeah? What a big surprise. Then he looked more interested. Now, that is a surprise. He hung up.

What? Stone demanded.

There's a whole bunch of Martin Blocks in the various New York City phone listings, but one of them lives in the same house that Rocco Bocca does.

His sister's house in Queens?

I make him as Bocca's brother-in-law.

Didn't you say there were two cars in the driveway?

Yeah.

Run the plate on the other one.

My two guys down the street will have the make and plate number. He made the call and got the information, then phoned the squad room again. He held on for the answer, then hung up. A 2004 Lexus four hundred fifty, registered to Martin Block of Queens.

We followed the wrong guy, Stone said. Bocca is just a burglar; the other guy, the brother-in-law, is the smart one; he's the one who'll be dealing with Billy Bob.

Dino called his two detectives. Get back out to the Queens house and sit on it until a man leaves in the Lexus, then follow it wherever it goes and report to me. He hung up. We were pretty dumb, weren't we?

You said it, I didn't, Stone replied. Let's go back to the Carlyle and wait to hear from your people. I doubt if Block is going to go to work in the middle of the night. In the meantime, get your people to find out everything they can on Martin Block occupation, education, military service, high school, the works.

Dino made the call, and they headed back uptown.

STONE AND DINO were having breakfast the following morning, when Dino's cell phone rang.

Bacchetti. Go ahead. He punched the speakerphone button and held it up so Stone could hear.

Block is a Queens boy, born and bred. After high school, he went into the navy, served a four-year hitch, then reupped, but was discharged after another year. He came back to Queens a year after that and opened a car stereo and alarm business, which grew into something bigger. Now he deals in all sorts of electronic stuff and parts, too.

Two questions, Stone said. One: Why was he discharged from the navy one year after his second hitch began? Two: What did he do during the year after he left the navy, before he came home to Queens?

I'll look into it, the man said.

Get back to me fast, Dino said, then hung up and turned to Stone. What are you thinking?

I'm not thinking anything; I just find it odd that the guy left the navy a year into a four-year hitch.

Bad conduct discharge?

Maybe, but he couldn't have reupped if he hadn't had a clean record the first four years. Did he suddenly go bad? Did he do some time? If he did, would it show up in your criminal-records search?