Distant Thunder

30

Stone didn’t have to pack much. After all, having a wardrobe at each of his houses was sort of the point, wasn’t it? What needed to accompany him was a suitable person of the female persuasion. His first choice would have been Holly, but she traveled with one hell of an entourage. The only other choice was Vanessa, but she was loose-lipped, so he wouldn’t be able to tell her anything. He called her.

“This is Vanessa.”

“It’s Stone. How would you like to get away for a week or two?”

“To where?”

“A pleasant place, the name of which you may not know, until we arrive, and maybe not even then.”

“I like mysterious. How did you know that?”

“I guessed.”

“And when do we depart?”

“My car will be at your door in sixty minutes.”

“Holy shit! You expect a grown-up girl to be able to pack for an unknown destination and get down to the sidewalk in an hour?”

“Those are the arrangements.”

“What clothes will I need?”

“Country, outdoorsy, along with a couple of nice dresses, in case somebody asks us to dinner — or we ask them.”

“I think I can do it. I’ll need to call the office.”

“Call them from the car. Oh, and bring a passport, in case anybody gets curious about your nationality.”

“I have to hang up now and start throwing things at suitcases. Any weight limitation?”

“Three large cases and a hanging bag and a cosmetics case.”

“I’m wasting time talking to you.”

“One hour.”

“I know!” She slammed down the phone.

Stone had been prepared to give her an extra half hour, but, in the circumstances, her panic was his friend. He buzzed Joan.

“Yes, sir?”

“Tell Fred we’re leaving for Teterboro in fifty-five minutes.”

“So we’re going somewhere?”

“Not we, me.”

“Of course. I had forgotten that it is a condition of my employment that I never get to go anywhere.”

“I need whatever pounds sterling are in the safe, and some real dollars, too.”

“Sandwiches for travel?”

“Not necessary. Oh, call the Strategic Services hangar and tell them we need the airplane out of the hangar, wheels up in an hour. Oh, and you’d better let Faith know, too, since she’s the pilot and needs to round up a copilot. I can fly right seat, if necessary.”

“Destination?”

“Windward Hall, but don’t tell a soul, except Faith, friendly or unfriendly. Tell Faith to expect to be gone for two weeks. Gotta run.” He hung up. He ran for a shower and his clothes.

To his mild astonishment, Vanessa was standing on the sidewalk with a pile of luggage when they pulled up. Fred made the bags go away, and she got in. “Whew!”

“I am impressed,” Stone said, “to learn that I know a woman who can leave on time.”

“May I know where we’re going, please?”

“You may not, until we arrive.”

“I hate not knowing,” she said plaintively.

“I know you do, but it’s absolute necessary for reasons of security.”

“Whose security? Yours or mine?”

“Ours. You will appreciate it later.”

Fred drove into the Strategic Services hangar at Teterboro and pulled up to the airstairs door of the Gulfstream 500. Faith and another woman in uniform were doing a thorough preflight inspection, and linemen were waiting to load luggage.

“Oh, it’s bigger than I thought,” Vanessa said.

“You’ll be comfortable, I promise,” Stone said, escorting her aboard and to a comfortable seat. A stewardess took their breakfast order and brought them mimosas and the New York Times.

Faith and her copilot boarded and entered the cockpit. Then the airplane began to be towed to the flight line. Outside, the tug disengaged, and the engines whined softly to life. Shortly, they were rolling again, taxiing to runway one. Without slowing, the Gulfstream turned onto the runway and full power was applied to the engines. Soon, the aircraft lifted off the runway and the landing gear were retracted with a soft thump.

“We are en route,” Stone said.

“To what airport?”

“To no known airport,” Stone replied, as breakfast arrived.

Vanessa looked out the window. “Is that Long Island out there?”

“Probably.”

“So we’re headed east?”

“Don’t count on it,” Stone replied.