Strategic Moves

FORTY-EIGHT

Stone woke at his usual hour with Willa’s head on his shoulder. He disengaged from her as gently as possible, then performed his ablutions in the bathroom. When he returned, Willa was sitting up in bed, bare-breasted, with the TV on.

“Breakfast, if you please,” she said.

“Of course. May I take your order?”

“Whatever you’re having,” she replied.

“You’re becoming more and more agreeable,” he said.

“About the bourbon—after yesterday I think I would throw up if I even smelled it again.”

“Too much of a good thing?”

“Way too much.”

“I hope you don’t feel the same way about scrambled eggs, bacon, and English muffin,” he said.

“I love all of them.”

Stone called Helene, and she sent breakfast up on the dumbwaiter.

Then the TV screen went dark, and the words BREAKING NEWS appeared.

“This just in to NBC News,” a young woman was saying. “American air forces are engaged in heavy bombing in the Tora Bora region, southeast of Kabul, in Afghanistan. Sources tell NBC that thousand-pound penetrating bombs are being dropped on what may be a network of caves in the mountains there, and there is speculation that the target may be Osama bin Laden.” She began to relate the history of U.S. action in that region of the country.

“You think they got him?” Willa asked, taking a bite of her muffin.

“I hope so,” Stone said.

Joan buzzed him. “Pablo for you.”

Stone picked up the phone. “Pablo?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Have you seen the news?”

“I’m looking at it right now.”

“So am I,” Pablo replied.

“Do I want to know where you are?”

“Just as well not, I think.”

“If this works, you could be a hero.”

“Nonsense. If it works, my name will never be mentioned. At least, I hope not.”

Suddenly an old photograph of Pablo appeared on the TV.

“Sources at the CIA are telling us that this man, Pablo Estancia, was the source of the intelligence placing Osama bin Laden at Tora Bora. Born Erwin Gelbhardt, in Darmstadt, Germany, he acquired the nickname ‘Pablo’ as an international arms dealer. We are also told that agents of the CIA interviewed him for four days earlier this week and that he provided a map of the cave network where bin Laden is supposedly hiding.”

“Oh, shit,” Pablo said. “Did you hear that?”

“Apparently, we’re both watching NBC,” Stone said.

“Yes, I suppose we are. Why on earth would Lance Cabot air this information?”

“I suppose they must be very confident that bin Laden is there,” Stone suggested.

“But why bring me into it?” Pablo asked plaintively. “Now they’ve pinned a big target on my back.”

“I have no idea,” Stone said.

“It’s some sort of revenge,” Pablo said.

“Revenge for what?”

“I’ve no idea,” Pablo said. “I have to go, Stone. My family is arriving this afternoon, and I have to get them to somewhere safe.”

“Is there anything I can do to help, Pablo?”

“No, I don’t think so. Don’t blame yourself for this, Stone.” He hung up.

“Well,” Willa said, “that was a very interesting conversation—at least, your side of it.”

“Try and forget you heard it,” Stone said.

“That was your man, huh? Your client?”

Stone nodded. “He’s been royally screwed, and I don’t know what I can do about it.”

The phone rang again. “Hello?”

“It’s Holly. Have you seen the reports?”

“Right now,” Stone said. “Has Lance lost his mind?”

“He’s losing it right now,” Holly replied. “I know you won’t believe this, but Lance didn’t do this. I think it’s somebody at the Agency who has it in for Lance.”

“I would imagine their numbers are legion,” Stone said.

“Lance is more popular here than you would imagine,” she said. “Somebody’s head is going to roll for this.”

Stone had an idea. “Listen, I think you ought to offer Pablo protection, find him a hiding place and put guards on him.”

“That’s an idea I wouldn’t argue with, and I don’t think Lance would, either, but he’d have to go to the director for funding; he doesn’t have that kind of discretion. Between you and me, I was astonished when Lance ordered two dozen of those jammers at twenty-five thousand a pop. And the kind of protection you’re talking about would cost hundreds of thousands.”

“Talk to Lance and get back to me.”

“Are you in touch with Pablo?”

“No, but he’s in touch with me. He called five minutes ago, having seen the news reports. His family are arriving today at wherever he is, and of course he’s very concerned about their safety.”

“I’ll talk to Lance,” she said, and hung up.

Willa was staring at him. “This is like being in the middle of a spy novel.”

“I want your word you will not speak of this to anyone,” Stone said.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? I don’t want to be involved, I’m just fascinated to hear about it.”

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

“It’s Saturday,” she pointed out, “but if you want me out of here, say the word.”

He kissed her on the neck. “No, I don’t want you out of here.”

“Who’s going to call next?” Willa asked.

“I’ve no idea.”

The phone rang. “Hello?”

“It’s Herbie.”

Stone was silent.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thanks, and I can’t talk right now,” Stone replied.

“Okay. Can I call you later?”

“Make it Monday,” Stone said, and hung up.

“And who was that?” Willa asked.

“A client, unrelated to anything on the news.”

Willa set her tray on the floor and cuddled up to him. “Let me take your mind off all this.”

“I don’t think you can,” Stone said.

But she could, and did.