Shoot Him If He Runs

53

Thomas greeted them warmly at the bar, produced an ice-cold pitcher of vodka gimlets from his freezer and poured each of them one, then another for himself. He raised his glass. “To a safe trip home,” he said.

They all drank.

“How did you know we were leaving tomorrow?” Holly asked.

“The ban on travel has been lifted; could your departure be far behind it?”

“You’re right,” Holly said.

“I hope you were able to achieve the purpose of your visit.”

“There were two purposes,” Holly said, “and they were mutually exclusive. We achieved one of them.”

“Then your visit doesn’t sound like a failure.”

“No,” Holly said, “it wasn’t. I’m satisfied, and I hope my boss will be.”

“Thomas,” Stone said, “are you aware that there’s a large hammerhead shark stalking your beach?”

“Oh, that’s just Fred; he comes and he goes. He’s never attacked anyone.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t seen anyone tempting enough,” Stone said.

“You want to lead an expedition to kill the thing?”

“Uh, we’re leaving tomorrow, remember? I’ll leave you to deal with the consequences of Fred’s finding someone to his taste.”

Thomas went to serve another customer.

“Did you talk to Lance?” Stone asked Holly.

“No, he wasn’t answering. I left a message, telling him we were done, with no joy on Teddy, and he had someone call us about tomorrow’s jet. It’s at noon, and the Peppers are joining us.”

“Well,” Stone said, “I’m a little disappointed that we didn’t find Teddy; that would have been exciting.”

“Maybe too exciting,” Holly said. “But, anyway, I think that Croft was Teddy’s swan song, if, indeed, he was the one who killed the colonel. If Teddy’s still alive, I think he has gone to ground and will stay there.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Stone said, sipping his gimlet.

The headwaiter called them to dinner.

Stone was surprised to see Irene Foster seated alone in the restaurant. He and Holly walked over. “Good evening, Irene, are you alone?”

“Yes, Harold is sailing his boat up to Ft. Lauderdale, to sell it. I think he got tired of the cruising life.”

“Is he coming back?”

“I don’t think so; we haven’t been getting along very well the past few days; I think he’ll look for greener pastures, and frankly, that’s all right with me. I got tired of seeing him in his recliner, gazing at the TV.”

“Would you like to join us?” Holly asked.

“Thank you, Holly, but I’m just waiting for dessert, then I’ll go home. When are you leaving, Stone?”

“At noon tomorrow,” Stone said. “I want to thank you for your kindness to us while we were here.” He gave her his card. “If you should find yourself in New York, call me and let me take you to dinner.”

“Thank you, Stone, I’ll do that, though I don’t contemplate that sort of travel anytime soon.”

“Good-bye, then.” Holly gave her a kiss on the cheek, and they joined Dino and Genevieve at their table.

Teddy sat at his workbench, cleaning and oiling the sniper rifle. He completely dismantled it and cleaned each part carefully, then reassembled the weapon and dry-fired it a couple of times. He removed the stock and the silencer and put it back into its case.

Finally, he checked the equipment he had so carefully assembled, tightening bolts and wiping any dust away, then he opened the outer doors to his workshop, carried the three pieces outside and bolted them together at the top of the long concrete drain channel that emptied into the little gorge. He did some programming to an electronic device, half the size of a toaster, then fastened it in place and tested it. All was in working order.

He went to the garage, started his vehicle and drove down the mountain, heading over the hills into Markstown. He drove through the hilly streets, his headlights off, past the apartment building where Marcel duBois lived, and up a small hill to a little park that overlooked the residence. He pushed through some bushes to a five-foot wall made of coral, checked his sight lines and walked himself mentally through the shot. All was ready, though he reckoned he would have no more than five seconds from the time duBois left his building until he entered his car.

He would be ready. He glanced at his watch. If he got to bed early, he’d get a good seven hours of sleep before the alarm went off. He got back into the vehicle and headed back to Black Mountain.

Stone and his party lingered over coffee, enjoying the pleasant night air. Thomas came and joined them, bringing a bottle of brandy and some glasses.

“Thomas,” Stone said, “is life going to be easier, with Colonel Croft out of your hair?”

“It’s going to be cheaper for a while, until his replacement, duBois, finds his feet, but soon enough, he’ll be around with his hand out, and I’ll have to pay.”

“That’s a permanent condition, then?”

“The cost of doing business. You know, our native folks would be embarrassed to ask a bribe from someone; that’s why I think Sir Winston hired the two Haitians. Their experience at extracting blood from stones runs long and deep.”

“The St. Marksian reluctance to bribe doesn’t seem to extend to Sir Winston.”

“No, once political power is achieved, embarrassment vanishes. Sir Winston just looks at the money as his due.” Thomas smiled. “But taxes are low, and so is labor, so it all evens out. I’ll get by.”

They all raised their glasses and drank their cognac.