“Thank you.”
“And what is it you want me to do to him?”
“Just instruct your director of Technical Services to testify that the explosive was checked out to Mr. Macher, and that he did not return any of it.”
“Forgive my asking, but how would my man determine that the same explosive he issued to Macher was contained in the bomb of your acquaintance?”
“Because the manufacturer of said explosive took part in an experimental program to add trace markers to their product, and they have a record of having delivered explosive containing that marker to your own estimable agency, and the NYPD has identified the marker. All we need is the Agency’s confirmation that it was issued to Macher and none was returned.”
“Stone,” Lance said, “I believe you are well acquainted with the level of secrecy under which we operate, are you not?”
“I am, but I don’t see how getting a contemptible, murderous swine off the streets would compromise that secrecy.”
“Because the world at large is not aware that our technical services division even exists, let alone the name of its director, nor does it know for certain that we sometimes find uses for explosives. We do not wish to implant that information in the consciousness of unsuspecting citizens, which might later emerge to bite us on the ass in a congressional hearing, or other such venue, which it surely, as night follows day, would. Please give my warm regards to Bessie, and I bid you a pleasant good evening.” Lance hung up.
“You see?” Stone asked Dino.
“You weren’t persuasive enough,” Dino replied.
43
Stone arrived at the Carlsson Clinic just before noon and opened the door to Charley’s room to find Charley and Kaley close together, both a little breathless and flushed.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Stone said, dragging a chair up to Charley’s bedside.
“Of course not,” Charley panted.
“I was just leaving,” Kaley said, checking her appearance in her compact mirror and refreshing her lipstick. She kissed Charley and left.
“You got here just in time,” Charley said. “I might have expired.”
“Lovely way to go,” Stone observed.
“I’d just as soon hang around for more,” Charley replied.
“I thought I’d bring you up to date.”
“Shoot.”
“First of all, I checked with Ed Rawls and asked his advice on how best to quietly remove Macher from the scene.”
“And what did Ed suggest?”
“He suggested shooting him in the head and not getting caught.”
“You know,” Charley said, “that’s not a bad idea.”
“I gave Ed the benefit of my experience as a homicide detective in a past life and explained that I had never encountered a perfect murder.”
“But wait,” Charley said, “in a couple of days I’m going to be ambulatory. I could creep out of here, off Macher, and creep back in. I’m an invalid — no one would ever suspect me. How perfect is that?”
“Imperfect,” Stone said. “You forget that we have no idea where Macher is, or whether he is predisposed to getting shot in the head by an invalid, who would probably pop his sutures and bleed to death in the street before he could creep back into the Carlsson Clinic.”
“There is that,” Charley said, looking sad. Then he brightened. “I could get Kaley to shoot him. She’d like that, and God knows, she’s been trained for it.”
“Right,” Stone said, brightening, too, “and she could take the rap for it, as well. You and I would go scot-free. I like it.”
“All right, that was a little unchivalrous of me.”
“It was.”
“Still...”
“Put it out of your mind, Charley.”
“You know the three most important things about a successful murder, Stone?”
“Like real estate — location, location, location.”
“Well, yes, but...”
“What were your three things?”
“I’ve forgotten.”
“That may be the best idea of all,” Stone said, “just forget it.”
There was a knock at the door, and a nurse entered with an envelope. “This was just hand-delivered to you by a policeman,” she said, handing it to Charley.
Charley opened the envelope and examined the contents. “It’s my carry license,” he said, beaming.
“I spoke to Dino about it.” Stone pulled the little Colt Government .380 he had loaned Charley from his pocket and handed it to him. “There you are, and all legal.”
“I feel much better,” Charley said.
“And that greatly simplifies our problem,” Stone said. “All we have to do now is to pull all your guards off, wait for Macher to come in here to kill you, then you can shoot him.”
“Great!”
“If you don’t fall asleep while you’re waiting for him to show up, in which case he will kill you.”
“You’re such a killjoy,” Charley said.
“Remember, that thing is loaded, and there’s one in the chamber. Is six rounds enough to dispatch Macher when he shows up?”
“I should think so.”
“It’s a light caliber — go for a head shot. We don’t want him lumbering about the clinic like a wounded bear, knocking over things.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Charley said.
“Okay, I’ll get out of here, then. I’m having lunch with Marisa at her apartment upstairs.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Or haven’t just done.” Stone left and took the elevator upstairs to Marisa.
She gave him a big kiss. “I haven’t seen Charley today,” she said, “how is he?”
“Well enough to accept a little fellatio from Kaley,” Stone replied. “I nearly caught them at it.”
“What a nice idea,” Marisa said. “Are you up for a little fellatio? Or cunnilingus? It’s a smorgasbord — take your pick.”
Stone grabbed her. “A little of everything, please.”
She fended him off. “It will have to wait until after work. I have an appointment with a patient in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll make it fast.”
“You’re forgetting lunch.”
“You’re lunch.”
“Think of me as a canapé at the cocktail hour.”
“I can’t wait around here all day, waiting for the cocktail hour.”
“Let’s have lunch, then you go home, and I’ll join you at the cocktail hour for a smorgasbord. I’ll undress in the cab on the way, so there’ll be no waiting.”
“I like that. I’ll try to contain myself until then.”
They had lunch, and he went home, atingle with anticipation.
Erik Macher and Jake Herman were having a room-service lunch at the Lombardy Hotel.
“What went wrong?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know. I rang the cell number, and Stone Barrington answered.”
“He found the bomb? How’d he do that?”
“How the hell should I know? Why would he be expecting a bomb?”
“The guy is supernatural.”
“No, he’s just very lucky,” Macher said.
“Same thing. What about Charley Fox?”
“He’s still in the Carlsson Clinic, and there’s a heavy Strategic Services presence there.”
“What will you do about him?”
“Wait until he gets out, for a start,” Macher replied.
“And then what?”
“I don’t know. Do you have any ideas?”
Jake thought about it for a minute. “No.”
“You’re being unhelpful, Jake.”
“Don’t put this off on me. I don’t have any reason to kill either Charley or Barrington.”
“Have you become uninterested in money?”
Jake sighed. “I’ll think of something.”