“Boss, is something wrong? You look a little unwell.”
“No, I’m just fine, thanks.” He was a bit surprised to find that he wasn’t.
Jake Herman rang the bell to Erik Macher’s suite and was admitted.
“What’s up?” Macher asked.
“Not much, I’m afraid. I saw my girl from accounting at St. Clair last night, and she tells me that Charley Fox and his girlfriend have redecorated the upstairs suite and moved into it. She also says that all the locks have been changed and the security system revamped.”
Macher had no response, just glared at him.
“I tell you this because it means that the mansion is not as good a target as it might have been in the past.”
“I still can’t figure out how they discovered my bomb in the library,” Macher said.
“Oh, she told me about that. The new corporate counsel has a Labrador retriever, and he brought the dog to the board meeting. The animal is a retired sniffer dog at the airports, and she smelled something that led Barrington to open the wood box.”
“Well, shit!” Macher yelled.
“I know it’s a blow, but if the thing had gone off, we would now be up to our asses in investigators. Perhaps it’s just as well it didn’t.”
“You have a point there,” Macher said.
“And about the yacht. Our man on the crew volunteered to check the hull that morning, and shortly after that, he was fired and sent ashore in Edgartown. He says that the bomb was still in place when he left the yacht, and he doesn’t know what went wrong.”
“Barrington is the luckiest bastard I’ve ever known,” Macher said.
“Maybe we should go back to D.C. and tend to business there. I’m hearing that not much work is getting done in our absence.”
“Oh, all right,” Macher said. “We’re certainly not getting anything done here, and I’m running up a hell of a hotel bill.”
“I’ll go get my things together. What time do you want to depart?”
“Call for a bellman in half an hour, and ask him to bring the car around.”
“Certainly,” Jake said. He went to his room, relieved that there would be no more attacks on Macher’s enemies, at least for a while.
Macher, if he had known what Jake was thinking, would not have agreed with him.
49
Kaley Weiss left the offices of Strategic Services at 11:30 to go and prepare lunch for Charley, something she did each day, even if there was a cook on duty at the mansion.
She started across Park Avenue, but the light caught her on the center island, and she had to wait there for it to change. As she did, she saw a stopped car on East Fifty-seventh, headed west, waiting for the light to change. She recognized the driver from photographs: it was Jake Herman. That must mean that the man sitting next to him in the front passenger seat was Erik Macher. As she watched, the light changed, and the car drove across Park Avenue. She noticed a hanging garment bag and a suitcase in the rear seat, as if the trunk must be full. She turned and watched the car proceed up East Fifty-seventh Street, and she watched it from a distance until it disappeared, going west.
Kaley called Stone Barrington.
“Yes, Kaley?”
“Good morning, Stone,” she said. “I’m at the corner of East Fifty-seventh and Park Avenue, and two men in a Mercedes S550 just drove past me, heading west. The driver was Jake Herman, and I’m assuming the front-seat passenger was Erik Macher. The backseat had luggage in it, which I take to mean that the trunk was full, and that car has a pretty big trunk. I watched them drive all the way west, as if they were headed for the bridge or the tunnel.”
“That’s an astute observation, Kaley,” Stone said. “I expect they’re leaving the city to drive back to D.C., where Macher has a condo, across the river in Arlington.”
“Then that’s good news?”
“It is. How’s Charley doing?”
“Better and better. I’m headed over to the mansion now to fix his lunch and to make sure he isn’t doing too much yet.”
“That’s good of you, and thanks for the information.” He hung up.
Stone called Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“Someone I know thinks she saw Jake Herman and Erik Macher headed across town, west, probably headed for the tunnel, thence to D.C.”
“Hang on, I’ll bring up the app.” He paused a moment. “I’ve got him on Eleventh Avenue, just north of the tunnel. He’s waiting in traffic. Now he’s moving, and he’s turning into the tunnel.”
“Let’s get his direction when he gets to Jersey.”
“What would you like to talk about in the meantime?” Dino asked. “This job leaves me with so much time on my hands.”
“Hang up, if you’re needed.”
Dino hung up.
Stone waited patiently for another fifteen minutes, then his phone rang. “I’m here.”
“He turned south on I-95, which means he’s headed either to D.C or Miami, or some point in between. Satisfied?”
“For the moment.”
“See ya.” Dino hung up.
Okay, Stone thought, Macher is headed for D.C. Now what?
Kaley came into the bedroom carrying a tray containing a sandwich, to find Charley sitting up in bed watching a soap opera. “Gotcha!” she said. “A soap opera, yet!”
“I was just channel surfing,” Charley said, accepting the sandwich and taking a big bite. He switched to MSNBC.
“Guess who I just saw headed out of town?”
“Who?”
“Erik Macher and Jake Herman. At least they seemed to be heading out of town.”
“You should tell Stone.”
“I already have. He thinks they’re headed for D.C.”
“If that’s true, it’s good news.” Charley’s phone rang, and he picked it up. “Charles Fox.”
“It’s Stone. I just talked to Dino. He’s tracking Macher, and he’s headed south on I-95, we think to D.C.”
“Great,” Charley said. “Can we relax now?”
“A little,” Stone said. “Let’s not get overconfident.”
“I’m going back to work tomorrow,” Charley said.
“You are not!” Kaley shouted. “You’re going to stay in bed for at least another week.”
“Listen, I went yachting and nearly got blown up, and I didn’t pop any stitches.”
“That’s not the same as working.”
“Yeah, when I work I sit in a chair and talk on the phone and tap the computer keyboard a little. Does that sound too strenuous to you? I’ll tell you something, watching a soap opera is more strenuous than that. The music alone makes me antsy.”
“Charley,” Stone said.
“You heard all that?”
“How could I miss it? Do as Kaley says — your life won’t be worth living if you fight her on this.”
“Then I’m going to need a lot of dirty magazines,” Charley said.
“Dirty magazines?” Kaley asked. “What am I, chopped liver?”
“Charley,” Stone said, “you’re going to be chopped liver if you don’t do as she says. Don’t you know anything about women?”
“More than I want to,” Charley said.
“Humor her.”
“All right, Kaley, I’ll stay in bed awhile longer, but as soon as the stitches are out, I’m back at work, clear?”
“We’ll see,” Kaley said.
“I’ll leave you to your fate,” Stone said, and hung up.
Kaley sat on the edge of the bed, pressed the down button on his bed’s remote control, pulled back the covers, and began unbuttoning his pajamas. “Okay,” she said, “think about dirty magazines, if you need to.”
Charley didn’t need to.
Bob came over to Stone, sat down at his side, and stared up at him. “It’s not time, Bob,” Stone said to the dog, glancing at his watch. “Now go lie down.”