Choppy Water

5

Stone tucked his weapon under his slicker to keep it dry and inside his waistband to keep it handy. Dino was wearing a shoulder holster.

They stepped off the back porch into a steady, heavy rain. There was an occasional flash of lightning, followed quickly by a crash of thunder. Gusts of wind occasionally blew. They walked, sometimes waded, along the fifty-yard gravel path to the yacht club. Stone could hear an occasional thump, and as they got nearer to the entrance, he could see the right half of the French doors, banging against the side of the building. Most of its glass panes were broken.

Dino got inside first, and Stone saw his flashlight come on. “Jesus Christ!” Dino yelled. Stone switched on his own flashlight and stepped inside, waving it around, “Oh, shit,” he said, as splashes of blood and gore on the walls came into view. He moved the light’s beam down and began to see bodies on the floor — torn and twisted.

Dino was going from man to man and looking closer. “All of them are dead,” he said, feeling an occasional wrist or throat. “And cold. A couple of hours, maybe.”

“Freeze!” a man’s voice shouted.

“Bill?” Stone called.

“Who’s that?”

“Stone Barrington and Dino Bacchetti. Don’t shoot us.”

Bill Wright, followed closely by Claire Dunn, came into the room, weapons drawn. “What the hell happened?” Bill asked. “We just got here on the ferry.”

“We just got here, too,” Stone replied. “Dino says they’re all dead, maybe for a couple of hours.”

The two Secret Service agents made their own quick check. “Where is Peregrine?” Bill asked, using Holly’s Secret Service code name.

“Upstairs at my house, with Viv Bacchetti.”

Bill made a move in that direction.

“Hold on!” Stone said.

The agents stopped.

“They’re both armed, and since they’re both ex-cops, they know how to handle themselves, so identify yourself before you go inside. Wait, I’ll let you in the back door.” Stone led the group back to the house and opened the rear door with his key. “Holly!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

“Upstairs!” Holly called back.

“Bill and Claire are with us. Don’t shoot anybody, it’s safe.”

“The hell it is,” Bill said.

Holly and Viv came down the stairs cautiously, guns in hand. “What’s wrong?” Holly asked.

“Everything,” Stone replied.

Bill grabbed the landline and started dialing numbers.

“Stone,” Holly said, “what’s going on?”

“There’s been an attack. Bill,” Stone said, “you’d better make your next call to the state police. This is their jurisdiction. I’ve got the number.” He began searching his contacts list.

“Fuck ’em,” Bill said, dialing another number. “Our people are federal employees, so the FBI has jurisdiction. I’ll do what I can, until they show up.” He went back to his phone call. “Jerry, this is Bill Wright, Secret Service. My detail for the president-elect has been attacked: six dead, no wounded.” He gave the man their location and directions, then hung up. “The FBI are getting their people down here from the state capital. Should be here in an hour.”

He made another call. “I want you to get that ferry over to the island stat,” he said into the phone. “If the crew has left for the day, roust ’em out and get them over here, but don’t make more of a fuss than you have to. We don’t want to call attention to ourselves.” He hung up.

Stone checked the weather radar on his cell phone. “Uh-oh,” he said. “When did anybody last look at the weather?”

“Last night,” Dino said. “Are you talking about Hurricane Zelda?”

“I am.”

“She’s going to pass east of Newfoundland.”

“Not anymore, Bill. She’s taken a left, and the eye will now pass west of Nova Scotia. That’s why we’re getting all these bands of rain.”

“We’re going to be in a hole, a quiet spot, in an hour or so, and the FBI chopper can’t leave until then. You’ve got some time to call whoever else you have to.

“The first order of business is to keep the president-elect safe,” Bill said.

“Accomplished,” Stone said. “There are six guns in this room, and whoever made that mess at the yacht club is gone. They must be in a boat, because the ferry has been inop. How did you get here?”

“They agreed to make a run when the wind dropped,” Bill said.

“What’s your plan?” Stone asked.

“We’ve got an unmarked helicopter at the airport, but it can’t fly until the weather passes, so we’re going immediately by car. You people pack your bags, and we’ll get everyone in our vehicles.”

Seth Hotchkiss came into the room. “Evening,” he said. “What time would you like dinner?”

“I don’t think we’re going to have time for dinner, Seth,” Stone said. “We’ll be leaving shortly.”

Seth nodded and left.

“Seth and his wife crossed on the ferry with us,” Bill said.

“All right,” Holly said. “Nobody’s going anywhere until I’ve been told what’s going on, so stop ignoring me. What mess at the yacht club?”

“Holly,” Stone said. “The rest of your detail has been shot and killed at the yacht club. How many, Bill?”

“Six.”

Holly stood, openmouthed. “We’d better get packed, then,” she said, finally.

A half hour later, the six of them were jammed into a large, three-rowed SUV, their luggage in another behind them, all waiting for the ferry to show. The weather had passed, for the moment, and visibility was fair.

“Where are we going, Bill?” Holly said.

“To our backup location; about a forty-five-minute drive from Lincolnville. We’ll do it in less than that.”

“You have a backup location already?”

“We’ve had it since I first heard about this trip,” he replied. “It was on a list we keep for possible hideouts. Don’t worry, you’ll be very comfortable there.”

The ferry hove into view, and minutes later they were crossing. Bill wouldn’t let anyone get out of the car on the crossing, and when they were ashore, the cars turned right, keeping their speed down until they were out of sight of Lincolnville.

“As soon as this hurricane passes, I’ll have to go to Washington,” Bill said.

“On the carpet?” Holly said.

“You guessed it.”

“Bill, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I’ve put the president-elect of the United States in jeopardy and lost six men.”

“It was a planned attack,” Stone said. “You couldn’t have foreseen that.”

“It’s my job to foresee, and I failed.”

The car sped up, and Stone saw the speedometer at eighty.

“I’m more concerned with how these people found us,” Stone said. “This was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and nobody could have known where we were going.”

“Somebody knew,” Bill said.

Everybody went quiet, and the big vehicle hurtled on through the night. They drove off the main highway and along a series of back roads, then made a right onto a larger road and crossed a short bridge. Stone looked around. “This is Mount Desert Island,” he said. Bill said nothing.

They drove through the village of Somesville, so Stone knew that Somes Sound was to their left. Shortly after leaving the village they turned left, in the direction of the water, and drove very slowly along a winding road with signs proclaiming a 15 mph speed limit.

Finally, they came to a gate, and another SUV, blocking it, drove out and parked in order to allow them to drive through. They climbed a cobblestone driveway and came to a halt before a columned entrance.

“Welcome to Broad Cove Cottage,” Bill said, and they all dismounted.

Right on cue, it began to rain again, and the wind was rising.