Dead In The Water

CHAPTER 58

Stone reached Allison simultaneously with the bailiff, and a moment later, a court aide appeared with a folding canvas stretcher and placed it on the floor beside the inert woman. Stone slapped her cheeks lightly, but she did not respond. "Please get a doctor," he said to the bailiff.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, Mr.Barrington," the bailiff said. "Let's get her onto the stretcher."

Together, the two men lifted Allison and set her gently on the stretcher. The bailiff and the court aide each took an end and carried her from the courtroom. Stone and Sir Leslie followed them down the stairs and past the front desk of the jail into a corridor, then to the last cell before the hallway ended in a stout wooden door. By the time they had laid her on the cell's bunk, Allison was stirring. Stone put a pillow under her head and felt her neck for a pulse. It was rapid, but strong.

"What is this place?" Allison asked weakly.

"The jail," Stone replied. "You fainted; how do you now?"

"Weak," she said.

"I'll get her some food," Sir Leslie said, then disappeared.

"Did I dream it all?" Allison asked.

"No, but don't worry about it; your appeal has gone to the prime minister. We should hear tomorrow sometime."

Allison nodded. "I'm sorry I fainted," she said. "I'm usually better under pressure."

"I don't blame you," Stone said. "I still can't believe it myself. An American jury would have acquitted you in minutes."

"I'd like to sit up," she said. As she did, with Stone's help, a woman in a denim shift came into the cell, bearing a bowl of something hot.

"Here you are, dear," she said to Allison, setting the ray on her lap. "This'll do you good; I made it myself."

Allison began eating the stew. "It's good," she said. "Lots of fish in it."

From the direction of the inner courtyard, the sound of hammering came through the window high over the outside door.

"What's that?" Allison asked.

"Oh, just some work being done," he lied. "Ignore it." He knew exactly what that hammering meant.

Stone sat beside her on the bunk, and Sir Leslie returned with a chair. "I don't want you to worry," Hewitt said. "Your appeal will be in the prime minister's hands in just a few minutes." He reached into his briefcase and retrieved two sheets of paper, handing them to Stone and Allison. "Here's a copy for you."

"I'm sure it's wonderful," Allison said, continuing to eat the stew.

"Would you like me to read it to you?"

"I'll read it later," she said.

Stone put his copy into his pocket. Apparently Hewitt had not been as sanguine as he about the outcome of the trial, since he had written the appeal in advance. He looked at his watch: half past nine. "I have some important telephoning to do," he said to Allison. "You're going to have to stay here tonight; would you like me to bring you some things?"

"Thank you," she said. "A cotton dress, some underwear, and my cosmetics case."

Stone stood up. "Thomas is outside, I'm sure; he'll drive me. I'll be back as soon as possible." He left the cell and walked down the hall to the front desk, where he found Hilary Kramer and Jim Forrester waiting.

"Is she all right?" Kramer asked.

"Yes, she just fainted; she's having some dinner now."

"I don't blame her for fainting," Kramer said. "I would have, too, under the circumstances."

Jim Forrester looked almost as pale under his tan as Allison. "When do you expect to hear about the appeal?" he asked.

"Probably not until tomorrow."

"Any way to gauge her chances?"

"None that I know of. I'm about to make some phone calls to muster as much support as possible." He looked at Forrester. "Jim, you look awful; are you feeling all right?"

"I'm okay. I guess I wasn't expecting a conviction; don't get much of this sort of thing in the travel business."

"Speaking of travel writing, do you think you could call some of your travel editors and get them to send telegrams of protest to the prime minister first thing in the morning? If he thinks hanging Allison is going to hurt his tourist trade, maybe that'll help."

"I'll could call a couple of people tonight," Forrester replied.

"Good, now I've got to run back to the marina, make calls, and get some things for Allison."

"Stone," Kramer said, "give me one good quote for my piece."

"The defense is absolutely shocked at this outrageous verdict. In the United States this case would have been dismissed out of hand, and now we face the prospect of St.Marks executing an innocent American woman who has already been devastated by the entirely natural death of her husband. If this happens, no American will ever be safe in St.Marks again. I urge every American who cares about justice to wire or fax the prime minister of St.Marks in protest."

"Great!" Kramer replied.

"Hilary, I know it's late, but this piece isn't going to do Allison any good if it runs the day after tomorrow. Is there any way you can get it into tomorrow's edition?"

"I may have to break some legs, but I'll get it done."

"Thanks; I have to go now."

Thomas was waiting at the door. "How is she?"

"Much better; she's eating, anyway, Can you run me to the marina, then let me borrow your car to get back here?"

"Of course; let's go."

As they pulled up at the marina, Stone saw the fast motor yacht that Allison had previously chartered pulling into a berth.

"What's that doing back?" Thomas asked.

"It's been in Guadeloupe waiting for a call from Allison to pick her up. Would you tell them that Mrs.Chapman has been delayed and to stick around until tomorrow? I hope she'll be here to go aboard."

"Sure." Thomas handed over his car keys, then walked off toward the big motor yacht.

Stone went aboard Expansive and ran down below. In a moment he had the satellite phone up and running and a call in to Bill Eggers's home.

"Hello?"

"Thank God you're there," Stone said.

"Stone! What's up? How did the trial go?"

"She was convicted."

"What?"

"I'm not kidding, Bill, and we've got less than twenty-four hours to save her life. Here's what I want you to do."

"I've got a pencil; shoot."

"Start with the State Department: call the duty officer and ask him to alert the Caribbean desk that an innocent American citizen is about to be hanged in St.Marks. Demand that they call the secretary of state and have him bring to bear every ounce of influence he can muster. No, wait-first call the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee-it's Jesse Helms, God help us-and get him to call the secretary of state. Call Dodd and Lieberman of Connecticut and get onto him as well. Hell, tell them to call the president."

"You think they'll do that?"

"They might; we have to try. Call both Phil Woodman and Max Weld and see if you can get them to make some calls. Then call your PR people and tell them to start calling reporters at home and the wire services. We need an all-out mobilization between now and tomorrow morning. Everything should be directed to prime minister of St.Marks; it's all in his hands now. Tell the PR people to call travel editors, too; we've got to let them know that hanging Allison will kill their tourist, business. Jim Forrester is calling a couple of them."

"Who?"

"Forrester is down here doing a piece for The New Yorker, but he's done a lot of travel writing."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Anything you can think of, Bill. I'm absolutely desperate, and we don't have a minute to waste. I want the prime minister to wake up tomorrow morning to the sound of his phone ringing; I want his fax machine flooded with indignant letters; I want to scare the living shit out of him."

"I'm on it." Eggers hung up the phone.

Stone switched off the satellite phone and started getting Allison's things together. It was nearly midnight when Stone drove up to the jail door and found it locked. He rang the bell for three minutes before a sleepy, barefoot cop opened the door. "What do you want, mister?" he demanded.

"My name is Barrington; I'm Mrs.Manning's lawyer. I want to see her."

"You can't do that, man; we're shut down for the night. Anyway, she's asleep; you don't want to wake her up, do you?"

Stone shoved the duffel through the door. "Will you see that she gets these things, then?"

"Okay, I'll do that first thing in the morning."

"Thank you, and will you tell her I was here? Tell her not to worry; everything is going to be all right."

The man looked surprised. "You want me to tell her that? Everything ain't going to be all right, you know."

"Just tell her what I said, please."

"Okay, okay. Good night now." He closed the door and shot the bolt.

Stone got back into Thomas's car and drove back to the marina, worded; exhausted, and barely able to keep his eyes open.