Strategic Moves

SIXTEEN

Stone got back to the house in the late afternoon, hung up his heavy coat and took off his boots, then found Adele in the living room.

“I thought you had abandoned me,” Adele said, pouting.

“I’m very sorry. I got . . . swept up in a business thing and couldn’t get back until now.”

“A business thing? I thought nobody knew where we were.”

“A business associate happened to fly over the island and saw the airplane parked at the strip, and he insisted on a meeting. Can I get you something warming to drink?”

“I’ll try some of that bourbon you like,” she said.

Stone poured them both a Knob Creek and sat down. They clinked glasses and drank.

“Oh, someone named Mike Freeman called and asked that you call him as soon as possible.”

Stone sighed. “You’ll have to excuse me for a few minutes,” he said. “I’ll be back in time to pour your second drink.” He kissed her and let himself into Dick Stone’s secure office, then called Freeman’s cell.

“Hey, there,” Mike said. “Sorry to interrupt your weekend, but I need to run something by you.”

“Would this be the new offer Lance Cabot has made you?”

“How the hell did you know that?”

“Lance is up here on a nearby island, and he insisted on an impromptu meeting.”

“So he told you about his offer?”

“He told me only that it was one you can’t refuse.”

Mike chuckled. “Well, he’s right. Let me lay it out for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Lance has a real mission to offer us this time: he wants us to extract a person from a location somewhere in Europe and return him to the U.S.”

“I’ll bet that’s not as simple as it sounds,” Stone said.

“Maybe not, but almost. In our last conversation with Lance he mentioned the C-17 cargo airplane we own, if you recall.”

“I remember; I hadn’t heard about that. What, exactly, is a C-17?”

“It’s a four-engine, jet cargo airplane, very large. It’s very good for us in some situations: we can load half a dozen armored vehicles on it and fly them to a protection mission just about anywhere in the world. It makes us look very good to our clients. The problem with the thing is it’s very expensive to own and operate. Jim got an opportunity to buy it on the cheap from an African nation that had figured out they couldn’t afford it. He formed an air charter corporation, Strategic Air Services, to own and operate it. The idea was that we would defray our costs by chartering it to businesses or countries that had large cargo requirements. Trouble is, what with the world economy in a slump, we’ve had few charterers, and the airplane just eats away at our bottom line.”

“I can understand that,” Stone said, “having owned a number of airplanes that ate away at my bottom line.”

“Here’s what Lance has offered us: he will buy Strategic Air Services from us, then charter the airplane back to us when we have a need for it, at a rate that’s just about the operating costs of the aircraft.”

“I can see how that offer might be hard to refuse,” Stone said.

“By the way, you sold your airplane to Strategic Air Services, so he gets that, too.”

“Okay by me,” Stone said. “But tell me more about this extraction he wants you to do.”

“Here’s what we do: Lance hires Strategic Services to fly to Iraq and ferry a large cargo of matériel back from there—part of our armed services withdrawal from that country. On the way back, we stop at an airport in Europe, to be determined, and pick up the extractee, along with some of Lance’s people, so when we land in the States, it looks like an ordinary cargo flight for the military. We’re paid for the empty Atlantic crossing, the trip back with the cargo, and for the extraction. The profit is considerable. What do you think?”

“I think we’ll want the Agency to indemnify us for any legal problems associated with any part of the mission and from any damage to the airplane while conducting it, since our insurance may not cover government contract use. If he’ll agree to that, then you’re right, it sounds straightforward.”

“Then, as our counsel, you’re not opposed?”

“No; but Mike, I don’t have to tell you how complicated something like this can get, so you want a description of the mission in writing, if Lance will sit still for that, which I doubt.”

“I doubt it, too, but I’ll try.”

“One other thing: if I know Lance, the successful completion of this mission will bring other requests for other missions for Lance, and they’re likely to get more complicated and dangerous as you go along. Don’t let yourself get sucked into something you don’t want to do.”

“That’s a good point, Stone, and I’ll keep it in mind, and I’ll see that you get to read any contract Lance proposes.”

“Mike, there’s something else you should know.”

“What’s that?”

“At our meeting today, Lance gave me a full account of how and why you happened to leave Britain.”

Mike was silent.

“You understand, he knows your whole backstory.”

“That’s troubling,” Mike said. “How do you suppose he came by that knowledge?”

“He’s the operations director for the largest intelligence organization in the world,” Stone said. “He has sources.”

“Yes, Stone, I suppose he does.”

“I think he told me all this in the knowledge that I would tell you.”

“Yes.”

“Down the road somewhere, Lance is fully capable of using this information to pressure you into accepting some mission you might not want. If you’re concerned about that, then you should refuse the offer you’re not supposed to refuse and decline any further business from him.”

“If I did that, would it prevent him from using the information in some other way?”

“You have a point, Mike. You’re the only person who can say how much damage the release of that story might do. I can foresee circumstances in which public knowledge of your past might make you a sympathetic character, but no one can guarantee that. You, alone, know what you had to do in order to effect your disappearance and your identity change and what risks the wide knowledge of that might entail. Whatever you decide, I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

“Thank you, Stone. Let me sleep on it, and we’ll talk when you’re back in the city. Good night.”

“Good night, Mike.” Stone hung up and went back to the living room and poured Adele and himself another drink.

“Mary says dinner is at seven,” she said.

“Sounds good,” Stone replied, but his mind was elsewhere, trying to figure out how the possible exposure of Mike Freeman might play out.