Stone turned to Dino. “I’m going after him; you pull up at the subway entrance. If I’m not back in five minutes, will you take Arrington to my house?”
“Sure; you better get going.”
Stone got out of the cab and ran toward the subway entrance. The rain was pounding down now, and the steps were slippery as he clambered down them. As he descended into the station he saw Dryer going through the turnstiles, and at the same moment, he remembered that he had no tokens; he rarely took the subway. He hurried down the stairs, and he could hear a train coming into the station.
“The hell with the token,” he said to himself. He ran at the turnstile, planted a hand on it, and vaulted over. As he did, his raincoat caught on something, and he was jerked to a halt.
“Hold it right there!” somebody yelled, and before he could get his coat untangled a cop had him by the elbow.
“I’m on the job,” Stone lied.
“Yeah? Let’s see some ID, pal.”
Stone groped for his wallet, flashed the badge, and tried to go after Dryer, who was getting onto the subway train three cars from where he stood.
“Let’s see that,” the cop said, grabbing the wallet. “Retired, huh? What’s going on, fella?”
“I’ve got to catch up with a guy,” Stone said.
“Okay, but start buying tokens, okay?” He let go of Stone’s arm.
Stone sprinted up the platform toward an open car door and hurled himself at it. The doors closed on him. He struggled, pushed on the doors, and fell into the car, banging a knee. He got to his feet in time to look out the window and see Dryer standing on the platform, looking at him as the train pulled out. Dryer gave him a little smile.
Stone watched him for as long as he could; then the train was in the tunnel. He sat down, hoping to God that Dryer would go back up to 6th Avenue and be spotted by Dino. His raincoat, a new one, was torn from his leap over the turnstile, and there was a hole in his trousers’ knee where he had fallen. It was one hell of an expensive subway ride, he thought.
He got off the train at the next stop; then, unable to find a cab, he limped home.
Chapter 47
Amanda dialed Stone’s number and waited, tapping her perfect nails on the desktop while the secretary put her through. She had been standing at Martha’s graveside the day before when her thoughts about the DIRT business had begun to fall into place, and she had begun to fully realize how dangerous her position was. Amanda had always made a habit of turning danger into opportunity, but first she had to know exactly where she stood, which meant knowing exactly where Stone stood.
“Hello, Amanda; I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“Not to worry, darling. Look, I’d like to know exactly where you are in this investigation. Can you bring me up to date, and as concisely as possible?”
“Of course. Most of this you already know, of course, but I think we’ve identified the person or, perhaps, persons who are publishing the newsletter. One of them calls himself Jonathan Dryer and the other, Geoffrey Power or G. Gable. They appear to be working together. Dryer has abandoned his apartment, and we haven’t been able to locate him yet. Last night we got a look at him at a benefit at the Shubert Theatre, but he managed to elude us.”
“Who’s us?”
“Dino Bacchetti, my old detective partner.”
“Are the police involved in this?” she asked, alarmed.
“No, this was completely unofficial. We think Dryer has been pulling off burglaries to support himself, and a gun that was stolen from one of the apartments may have been used to kill a retired cop, but we can’t prove anything yet.”
“I see,” she said, relieved. “And where do you intend to go from here?”
“I intend to find Dryer,” Stone replied. “He’s the key to this whole thing.”
“And that’s it? That’s everything?”
“That’s everything.”
“Thank you, darling; see you soon.” She hung up and dialed Richard Hickock’s private office number.
“Hello?”
“Dick, it’s Amanda. Break your lunch date today; we have to meet.”
“Is this really important?”
“I think you could call it vital. Twelve-thirty at Twenty-One?”
“See you then.”
When they had settled into a banquette in the inner horseshoe of the bar at “ 21,” and after Hickock had ordered his steak and baked potato and Amanda her grilled salmon, no butter, and after Hickock had been served a double vodka martini and Amanda her San Pellegrino, she got down to business.
“Dick, darling,” Amanda said, “I’m afraid that, through no fault of your own, you have been placed in a very dangerous position.” She did not mention the danger to herself.
“Oh?” he said, not particularly alarmed, “How so?”
She gave him a brief rundown on what Stone Barrington had learned about the DIRT business.
“Well, at least he’s making progress,” Hickock said, taking a sip of his huge martini.
“Dick, my dearest, he may be making too much progress.”
Hickock frowned. “Too much progress?”
“Yes. You see, while Stone has been conducting his investigation, I have been conducting one of my own, and, as is my wont, I have been looking into more than who is doing this; I have been learning why.”
“And just why have this Dryer and Power, or whatever their names are, been doing this?”
“It seems, my darling, that they harbor some grudge against you.”
“Me? You mean only me?”
Amanda nodded gravely. “Apparently they’ve gone after me only because of my connection with you.”
“What did I ever do to these guys? I don’t even know who they are.”
“Who knows? What’s important is, they seem to know a very great deal about you and your business affairs.”
Hickock put down his martini. “Just what the hell is that supposed to mean, Amanda?”
“It means, Dick, that they seem to have unearthed information about your connection with an entity called Window Seat.”
All expression left Hickock’s face. “That’s impossible,” he said. “I mean, I never heard of anything like that.”
“Dick, my dear, you don’t have to worry about me; I’m on your side.”
“Amanda, how did you find out about this?”
“About what, darling?”
“About Window Seat, goddamnit!”
“Dick, keep your voice down,” she said, looking around them. “You know that I have a great many sources for all sorts of information.”
“Yeah, well, how the hell did you hear about Window Seat? And don’t you think for a moment you can plead the confidentiality of a journalist’s sources. I want to know now.”
“Well, your Glynnis is in possession of this knowledge, and she’s a pretty unhappy woman at the moment, isn’t she?”
“Don’t try that with me, Amanda; Glynnis and I have reconciled our differences, and she would never mention this to anybody.”
Amanda had misjudged Hickock; she was not going to be able to play him quite as she had imagined. Inwardly, she shrugged; well, that little vermin Peebles would just have to be sacrificed. “From Allan Peebles,” she said.
“He told you about Window Seat?” Hickock asked, unbelieving.
“Everything. About the Infiltrator and the porno magazines. The gay porno magazines.”
Hickock blanched. “I’ll have his balls by close of business,” he said.
“Well, now, Dick, that might not be the wisest move; not just yet, anyway.”
“Why not?”
“Well, these two little creeps Dryer and Power are still out there. If you do something so public as sacking Peebles, it’s bound to cause a new round of faxing, reporting the whole business, and I don’t think you want that to happen, do you?”