Worst Fears Realized

20

STONE DROVE MADDENINGLY SLOWLY through the crosstown traffic, two detectives in a car behind him. Sarah was reading through the instruction book that came as a supplement to the owner’s manual.

“It says here that the electric, rear-seat sunscreen is made of a material that is designed to stop any incoming…” She stopped. “Incoming what?”

“Just incoming. It means bullets or shrapnel.”

“Any incoming that penetrates the rear glass.” She found the button under the armrest and watched as the fabric sunscreen went up and down. “Cute,” she said. “Does it have built-in machine guns like James Bond’s car?”

“Of course not. I shouldn’t have told you about the armor.”

“Oh, I’m very glad to hear about the armor,” she said. “Gives one a cozy warm feeling inside. Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“How long a surprise?”

“Normally less than two hours, but I want to make a brief stop along the way.”

“A brief stop where?”

“Ossining, New York.”

“Yuck; sounds like an awful place.”

“Many of the people who reside there think so.”

“Why are we stopping there?”

“I want to ask a man some questions.” Stone pulled onto the West Side Highway and left the thick traffic behind. He put his foot down and felt himself pressed into his seat as the car accelerated.

“My goodness,” Sarah said.

“Yes, indeed.” Stone looked into the rearview mirror at the small dot that was the detectives’ car. He punched a programmed button on the car telephone.

“Krakauer,” a voice said.

“Thanks, Krakauer,” Stone said. “I’ll take it from here. You can tell Lieutenant Bacchetti that you got me out of town alive.”

“Right,” Krakauer replied. “Try not to come back.”

Stone punched off the call, flipped on the radar scrambler, and concentrated on driving and watching for cops. In what seemed like half the usual time they were on the Saw Mill River Parkway, headed north. He crossed the Hudson on the Tappan Zee Bridge and picked up the New York State Thruway.

“There’s a little wind noise around this window,” Sarah said. “I would have thought that at, what, seventy miles an hour we wouldn’t hear that.”

“We’re doing a hundred and ten,” Stone replied.

“Oh. Are we going to be arrested?”

“Probably not.” He spotted a state trooper going in the opposite direction and slowed down, watching the car make a U-turn across the meridian. By the time the trooper was up to speed, Stone was at sixty-five. He could see the man fiddling with something on his dashboard, looking confused. A moment later, the trooper made another U-turn and drove off to the south. “Zap,” Stone said aloud.

“What?” Sarah asked.

“I just zapped his radar.”

“I thought his radar was supposed to zap you.”

“That’s the way it used to be.”

A little later Stone pulled into the visitor parking lot at Sing Sing and approached the guardhouse.

“Can I help you?” the guard asked.

“I’d like to speak to Captain Warkowski.”

“Just a minute.” The guard picked up a phone, said something into it, then handed it to Stone. “He’s on the line.”

“Hello, Captain,” Stone said. “This is Stone Barrington; I was up here with Lieutenant Bacchetti.”

“How could I forget?” Warkowski replied. “What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to see Herbert Mitteldorfer again; just a few questions.”

“I’m afraid you’ve missed him.”

“Missed him? Is he in town, running errands?”

“Herbie got out yesterday.”

“I see.” This didn’t come as a complete surprise. “Can I have his release address?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know his new address.”

“May I have the name of his parole officer, then?”

“He doesn’t have a parole officer.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He got an unconditional release.”

“He was released unconditionally? From a sentence for murder? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“It’s rare, but it happens. Herbie was an outstanding prisoner, very helpful to the warden and me, and his psychiatric examination showed no likelihood of a repeat offense.”

“So you just cut him loose, and you’re hoping for the best?”

“That’s about it.”

“And you have no address for Mitteldorfer?”

“None at all; he’s as free as an eagle.”

“Thanks; sorry to trouble you.”

“No trouble at all,” Warkowski replied.

Stone could hear him laughing as he hung up. He returned to the car.

“Business all done?”

“Almost,” Stone said. He drove away from the prison and into the town, looking for something. It didn’t take him long to find it, and he drove into a parking place.

“I’ve got to run in here for a minute,” Stone said.

“Stone, darling, do you really feel an urgent need for stationery right now?”

“I won’t be a minute.” He got out and went into the store; the sign over the door read, WILHELM’S STATIONERS. A young woman was behind a counter near the door. “Good afternoon,” Stone said. “I wonder if I could speak to Mr. Wilhelm?”

“I’m afraid he’s out for a couple of hours, delivering,” the young woman said.

“Oh.” Stone turned to go, then stopped. “Did a man named Herbert Mitteldorfer used to buy supplies here for the prison?”

“Herbie? Oh, yes. He was one of our better customers. He and Mr. Wilhelm used to speak German to each other.”

“How often was he in here?” Stone asked.

“Oh, practically every single day, even when there was a lockdown at the prison.”

“He bought office supplies every day?”

“Oh, no, not really. At first, he’d come in to see Mr. Wilhelm, then he started working here.”

“He worked for Mr. Wilhelm?”

“Well, not for Mr. Wilhelm; Mr. Wilhelm rented him office space. He had a computer and everything.”

Stone blinked as he tried to get his mind around this. “Did you know he was released yesterday?”

“Oh, yes. Herbie came by to get his stuff and to say goodbye.”

“Did he have a lot of stuff?”

“A couple of filing cabinets and his computer and printer; that was about all.”

“Do you think I could have a look at where Herbie worked?”

“Are you a friend of his?”

“I came up to see him today, but I didn’t know he’d been released until I got to the prison.”

“Sure, I guess you could see it; follow me.”

Stone followed the young woman through aisles of stationery and office equipment to a door on the other side of the store.

She opened the door and stood back. “This is where he worked,” she said.

Stone looked into a room furnished only with a desk, a chair, and a small leather sofa. “Do you have any idea what Herbie did in here?” he asked.

“Well, I know he traded stocks,” she replied. “I don’t know what else he did.”

Stone stared at her. “On the stock market, you mean?”

“Oh, yes; he was a very active trader; he spent every afternoon on the computer and on the telephone, talking to his broker. He gave me and Mr. Wilhelm a number of good tips; we made out real well. I was sorry to see Herbie go.”

“Thanks,” Stone said.

“Come see us again. Shall I tell Mr. Wilhelm you stopped in?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. By the way, do you have Herbie’s new address?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t; neither does Mr. Wilhelm. He did say that he was headed west.”

“How far west?”

“I don’t know, really; he did say that he’d let us know when he was settled.”

“I see. Tell me, how did Herbie take his computer and his file cabinets away?”

“He had a man with a van; I guess somebody he hired.”

“Was there a name on the van?”

“Nope, just a plain, black van.”

“Can you describe the man who drove the van?”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t pay that much attention; I was helping customers.”

“Thanks again for your help,” Stone said. He walked back to his car, wondering why the hell Sing Sing would let a prisoner spend his afternoons in Ossining, trading stocks.

“All done?” Sarah asked, as he got into the car.

“Completely done,” Stone replied. He had no idea what to do next.