Choppy Water

3

Stone was reading the Times when a cell phone rang. “It’s not me,” he said, to nobody in particular.

Holly produced a phone from a pocket. “It’s Ham,” she said. “Hey, Ham.”

“Hey, baby. There was a story in the papers this morning, said you were somewhere in Florida. I had to run off a couple of people before breakfast. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m... Remember that place I told you about?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m there.”

“I’ll put up a sign,” he said, and told her his idea. “Have a good time,” Ham said, then hung up.

Holly hung up, too. “The Florida story in the papers worked. Ham’s had visitors.”

“If they knew how good a shot Ham is, they wouldn’t have bothered him,” Stone said.

“He’s putting up a sign on the gate saying ‘She ain’t here, and the dog bites.’”

Stone laughed. “Do you think that will stop them?”

“No, but it’ll make them think twice.”

“Whose cell phone are you using?”

“A campaign worker’s. She’s driving home to see her folks in Texas this week, with mine in her handbag.”

“That’ll keep ’em busy.”

“You’d better not use yours,” she said.

“It’s turned off. Joan can call me on the landline, if she needs me.”

As if on cue, the landline rang. “Al, will you get that? If it’s a woman, it could be my secretary, Joan.”

Al picked it up. “It’s Joan,” he said.

Stone picked up the extension on the coffee table. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said. “You’ve had a dozen callers this morning.”

“Tell them I’m on my way to Texas, driving.”

“Okay. Dino says he and Viv will be at Rockland around noon today.”

“I’ll have the Cessna pick them up. Is he using a police aircraft?”

“Yes.”

“That’ll work.” Dino Bacchetti was Stone’s old NYPD partner who was now New York City’s police commissioner. Dino’s wife, Vivian, was COO of Strategic Services, the second-largest security company in the world.

“Anything else?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until you’re back.”

“Bye.” Stone hung up. “Al, New York City’s police commissioner and his wife are arriving at noon at Rockland. Can one of your guys fly them over to the island in my 182?”

“I’ve got three who are licensed,” Al said. “I’ll pick one.”

He got on his radio.

Stone held off lunch until the Bacchettis arrived. They got settled in, then went down to the dining room.

“Anybody bugged you up here?” Dino asked.

“We blew off a couple this morning,” Stone said. “They’ve tried Ham’s place in Florida, too.”

“You know about not using cell phones?”

“Sure. Holly’s using a friend’s, who’s driving hers to Texas this week.”

“Nice move,” Dino said. “Holly, did you get a lot of fan mail in the way of death threats during the campaign?”

“Not what I would call a lot,” she said. “Just the usual alt-right nuts. I passed them on to the Secret Service.”

“You should expect to get your share of those, Stone,” he said. “You’ll be surprised at how popular you’re going to get.”

“Holly and I are going to be in different cities most of the time,” Stone said. “That’ll help a little, I think.”

They finished lunch and had coffee in the living room, by the fire.

“Viv,” Stone said, “where are you just in from?”

“Sydney, Australia, and San Francisco, where I had a little time to catch up with my jet lag. Holly, we haven’t congratulated you properly: we’re so happy you won.”

“Thank you, Viv. I’m still sort of in limbo — can’t quite believe it. That’s why I’m so happy to be up here with you all.”

Bill and Claire came into the living room “Excuse us for disturbing you, ma’am,” Bill said, “but Claire and I have to run over to the mainland for a security meeting. We’ve rented a house in Lincolnville, so we’ll foot it on the ferry. All our people are either on post around the house or over at the yacht club.”

“See you later, Bill,” Holly said.

“Yacht club?” Viv asked. “They’re sailing?”

Holly laughed. “No, they’ve rented the clubhouse for bunk and rec space. They can watch TV and play Ping-Pong during their off hours.”

Viv stood up. “C’mon, Dino, let’s get some of this unaccustomed fresh air. A walk would do us good.”

Dino put aside his Times and got up. “I’m okay with that,” he said. They got their coats on and left.

“What would you like to do this afternoon?” Stone asked Holly.

Holly walked over to the window and looked out over Penobscot Bay. Stone’s dock was only yards away.

“Is that your little yacht?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s called a Concordia.”

“What I’d really love is a sail.”

“Then why don’t we have a sail?”

“If we tried, it would cause a kerfuffle with the Secret Service. They’d have to find a boat, then follow us.”

“Oh.”

“Stone, do you have a sail bag in the house?”

“Sure. In the garage, where the spares are.”

Fifteen minutes later, Stone left the house, a big sail bag over his shoulder. The Secret Service man at the rear of the house met him. “Going somewhere, Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes, I’m going to try out a new sail on my boat.”

“Where’s the president-elect?”

“She’s upstairs having a nap, and she doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Right, sir.” He returned to his post.

Stone reached the dock and stepped into the cockpit of the yacht, then unlocked the companionway hatch and opened it. He lowered the sail bag carefully below. “Okay, the coast is clear,” he said, “as long as you don’t come on deck just yet.”

The sail bag’s zipper opened, and Holly struggled out. “I’m good.”

“Just have a seat in the saloon. It’ll take me a few minutes to get underway. And if you will, go up forward and hand me the genoa. The bag is labeled.”

Holly found and handed the sail up to him. Stone bent it onto the forestay, then went aft and got the engine started. Shortly, they were motoring out of the harbor, past a line of mostly empty moorings.

“You can come up now,” Stone said, “but sit on the cockpit floor. Those guys have binoculars, and I don’t want them to spot you.”

Holly tossed up some cushions, then came up the companionway steps and crawled aft, making herself a comfortable perch in the cockpit.

Stone hoisted the main and the genoa, switched off the engine, and let the boat reach along in the light winds. Soon they turned the point and were in the bay proper, the house and the yacht club now out of sight.

“What a day for it!” Holly yelled. “I feel free again. I haven’t felt that way since the campaign started!”

“We’re not going to see a lot of traffic out here in November, but if we spot somebody, resume your seat on the cockpit floor,” Stone said.

The breeze picked up a little, and their speed increased.