Billy’s first impression had been right. He was big, over six feet, thickset, especially at the shoulders and neck. He might have been a linebacker in his youth. The man lifted his bicycle over the wall, then put both his hands on top of the stone and vaulted over it, landing well.
Billy stepped out of the trees, the rifle at the ready. “Good morning,” he said.
The man froze in his tracks, his arms at his sides. Whatever weapon he carried was not instantly available to him, as he was wearing a buttoned-up tweed coat. “What?” he said.
“I’m going to offer you two choices,” Billy said.
The man said nothing, simply stared at him.
Billy knew his mind was racing, looking for survival.
“Relax,” he said. “There is no way out. Get used to that.”
“Out of what?”
“Out of here alive, except by the means I propose.”
“What are you proposing?”
“First, I’m going to ask you some questions, which you must answer truthfully. I already know the answers to some of them, enough so that if you lie, I’ll know. Lying will be fatal. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.
“Is the rifle in a case in your saddlebags?”
“Yes.”
“With one hand, remove the case and throw it a few feet in my direction. Do it carefully.”
The man complied. The aluminum case landed with a soft thud near Billy’s feet.
“Good. Now lean against the wall and try to relax. Keep your hands away from your pockets.”
He leaned against the wall and folded his hands in front of him.
“Now the questions: What is your name?”
“Al.”
“Surname?”
“Greenberg.”
“Where do you live, Al?”
“Los Angeles.”
“Do you have a front?”
“I have a pawnshop and gun business. This work is a sideline.”
“Who hired you? I warn you, this is one of the questions I know the answer to.”
“A man named Calhoun.”
“Correct answer. Now, here’s your first choice: you may return to your hotel, pack your bags, then get out of Beaulieu and the country. Lots of flights to the States around midday — be on one of them. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Here’s the alternative.”
“I know the alternative.”
“Let me spell it out for you, so there’s no room for misunderstanding: the alternative is for you to die before you hit the ground.”
“I understand that.”
“How much is Calhoun paying you?”
“Fifty grand.”
“How much up front?”
“All of it.”
“Good. That makes your next choice easier.”
“My next choice?”
“That happens when you return to L.A.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Calhoun is going to want his money’s worth or want it back.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Eventually, he’ll send somebody to get it.”
“I suppose.”
“You can keep the money, if you’re still willing to kill someone.”
Al frowned. “Who?”
“Why, Calhoun, of course.”
Al smiled a little. “Of course.”
“Now I’ll make you a promise: if Calhoun isn’t dead, say, a month from today, I’ll find you and kill you. Do you believe me?”
Al gulped. “Yes.”
“All right, now you can get back on your bicycle and start your journey. But first, leave the handgun.”
Al unbuttoned his coat and pulled it back to reveal the pistol in a shoulder holster. He extracted it with his thumb and forefinger and tossed it next to the rifle case.
“Goodbye,” Billy said. “Until we meet again — or not.”
Al nodded, picked up the bicycle, and set it down on the other side of the stone wall. Then he vaulted the wall, turned the bicycle around, hopped on it, and pedaled away. Just before he turned the first bend, he lifted a hand and gave a little wave. He didn’t look back.
Billy marked a month from today in his mental calendar, then picked up the weapons and walked back to Windward Hall, looking forward to a full English breakfast.
55
Stone came down for breakfast, feeling thick-headed and slightly off. He helped himself to bacon and eggs from the buffet and sat down. A moment later he was joined by Billy Barnett.
“Good morning,” Billy said. “Peter and Ben were up early, and they’ve already ridden over to Curtis House.”
Stone stared at him. “You let them...”
“Relax,” Billy said. “The threat has been removed.”
“How so?”
“Nonviolently. He’s headed for Heathrow as we speak.”
“You let him go free?”
“You asked me not to kill him. What was the alternative?”
“Well, I suppose...”
“Don’t worry, he won’t trouble you again. He’s even going to do a little favor for you.”
“What favor?”
“I’ll tell you when it happens.”
“Do you have any idea who he is?”
“I know exactly who he is,” Billy said. “Alvin Greenberg Junior. His father was Al Senior, who is reputed, in certain circles, to be the assassin who removed Ben ‘Bugsy’ Siegel from the scene, some decades ago. He ran a gun shop, now run by Al Junior. Both father and son are said to be very good at their work.”
“If he’s so good, how did you stop him?”
Billy shrugged. “I got there first. The rest was easy. I just offered him an opportunity to continue his life by leaving the country and not bothering us again.”
“What would you have done if he hadn’t agreed?”
“Then, having made the threat, I would have had to kill him.”
“I’m glad it didn’t come to that.”
“So am I. It would have been messy.”
Stone changed the subject, then left the table.
Billy got up and went downstairs to find Major Bugg, who was working at his desk. “Good morning, Major.” Billy sat down across from him.
“What can I do for you this morning?”
“Just some information, please. Have you recently employed anyone new to work in the household?”
“Yes, I employed a young woman from the village to help with the housekeeping.”
“Just the one?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know her beforehand?”
“I knew her father — still do.”
“Is he a military man?”
“Was. He’s retired and owns a construction business. He did some of the work on the remodeling of this house.”
“Would he be the sort who would maintain his military connections?”
“Oh, yes, he goes to all the reunions, has a lot of friends on Salisbury Plain.”
“May I have his name and address?”
Bugg gave it to him. “May I ask what this is about?”
“I believe his daughter may have provided information about what goes on here to someone who meant us harm.”
“I am shocked to hear that,” Bugg said, and he truly looked it. “What should I do about it?”
“Just don’t employ him again, and discharge the daughter. She’ll know why. Leave the rest to me.”
“I’ll speak to her immediately.”
“No, give it an hour or so.”
“As you wish.”
Billy thanked him and left his office. He got into his rental car and tapped the address into the GPS, then drove into town. He found the man’s building yard, then took a shopping bag from the boot and went to his office, where he found the ex-officer working at his desk.
The man looked up. “Can I help you?”
Billy sat down across from him. “I’ve come to tell you that your attempt to help an assassin has failed.”