A Safe House

51

Time for Stone to make another speech. “Now we have to get out of Connecticut,” he said.

“Where to?” Jenna asked.

“My house in New York.”

“Just when we’ve got them on the run?”

“They’ll only be on the run until Wallace convinces them they should come back. As soon as he’s tweezed the birdshot out of his ankles, he’ll start in on them. Once he can tap-dance again, they’ll believe they can’t get hurt.”

“Look at it this way,” Eggers said. “There’s no downside to getting out of here and heading to... somewhere else. If they come over all brave, then they can shoot up Stone’s house instead of mine.”

“What they don’t know,” Stone said, “is my house is pretty much bulletproof.”

“Why?” someone asked.

“Because some years ago, when I was doing some consulting for the CIA, they became concerned for my safety. I moved out for a couple of weeks, and they took off the siding, installed a layer of half-inch-steel plating, then replaced the siding, along with new windows with armored glass.”

“I want to go there,” Jenna said, and no one disagreed with her.

Three hours later, Stone opened the garage door to the house next door to his, and drove in, followed by a vanload of Strategic Services agents. The door closed behind them. Stone entered the security code at the door to the house and let everybody inside.

“I know this place,” Ken said. Then he started issuing instructions as to where his agents should be.

Stone and Jenna excused themselves until dinnertime, went upstairs, and flung themselves at each other.

“This is why you wanted to come back here,” Jenna said, after the first round.

“It’s important for your peace of mind that you be periodically well-fucked,” Stone replied.

“Well said. Can we do it again, please?”

“Just take deep breaths and give me a few minutes,” Stone said. He got into the shower, shaved, and then returned for round two and was enthusiastically received at the bell.

A few minutes later, Bob Cantor was on the phone. “Sorry to disturb you.”

“I’m not disturbed.”

“I wanted you to know that I checked out the whole-house systems, and everything is intact, and there are no bugs anywhere. This is a first for you, Stone.”

“It is, and good to know. Thanks.”

“Who was that?” Jenna asked.

“That was my security guy,” he said. “He says it’s all right for you to be fucked again, without fear of being disturbed.”

“He’s not going to get an argument from me,” she said, reaching for him.

Lying there a while later, panting and sweating, Stone heard the house phone go off. “Yes?”

“It’s Joan. I just wanted you to know that there are at least two SWAT teams roaming the house, armed with shotguns. Shall I retrieve my .45 from my desk drawer?”

“No, they’re here at my invitation, and they’ve promised not to shoot you.”

“I wanted to be of help.”

“Oh, good.”

“Are the three vanloads of people with very short haircuts, who are driving around the block repeatedly, included in that invitation?”

“Funny you should mention that.” Stone sat up on one elbow. “All right,” he said, “go get your .45. Then get back to your apartment and lock down. You’re outgunned.”

“Yes, boss.”

Stone called Ken on his cell phone.

“Yes, sir?”

“Have you taken note of the three vanloads of Bible students circling the block?”

“Yes, sir. We’ll allow them the first move, then we’ll greet them more seriously.”

“Before they make their move, call Dino Bacchetti and tell him we’re under threat. Let’s let the NYPD do as much of our work as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who is it this time?” Jenna asked.

“Bible students,” Stone replied. “Who else?”

“Shall we greet them as we are, or is clothing in order?”

Stone ran a hand down her body. “Regretfully, clothing is in order. Do you still have the armored suit?”

“No. You said the house would take care of us.”

“And it will,” Stone said, heading for a shotgun. He could hear squad-car whoopers in the distance.

He found Ken in Joan’s office, staring out the front door. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just watching the NYPD doing my job for me. This is fun.”

Stone joined him and saw the Bible students assuming the position against their vans and cops tossing various weapons into the trunks of police cruisers. “It’s nice to be able to lead the flock to a place where they can be safely sheared of their hardware. Have you seen the goon senator anywhere?”

“Apparently, neither he nor Mr. Quince made the trip down — or if they did, they hotfooted it out of here when they heard the cops coming.”

“I’d be interested to know if they make bail, and how much,” Stone said.

“I’ll get somebody down to the court,” Ken replied.

“Somebody who can argue against bail. Do you know Herbert Fisher?”

“I do.”

“Him.”