Shoot Him If He Runs

“Is he likely to go armed?”

“I’ve no idea, but he certainly knows how to use-even build-weapons of all sorts.”

Dino and Genevieve looked at the drawing. “I’ve seen this before,” Dino said. “I doubt if it’s worth the paper it’s drawn on.”

“There’s something else you both need to know,” Holly said. “Every time we’ve gotten close to him, Teddy has always had a well-planned escape route. Expect him to be slippery.”

“How about Irene?” Stone said. “Is she going to be difficult to deal with?”

Holly dug out a photograph of a handsome woman, apparently in her early fifties, her brown hair streaked with gray. “She was an agency drone for a long time, working her way steadily up the ladder.”

“Do you know her?”

“I think I passed her once in a hallway at Langley,” Holly replied.

“Any chance she’ll recognize you? Or will Teddy, for that matter?”

“Stone, you didn’t recognize me, until I spoke to you.”

“Touche,” Stone said. “Will Teddy recognize your voice?”

“I don’t think there’s anything all that distinctive about my voice, do you?”

“I suppose not,” Stone said.

“For what it’s worth,” Dino said, “I didn’t recognize her either, even when she spoke to me.”

“The transformation is remarkable,” Stone said. “Like two different women.”

“For better or worse?” Holly asked archly.

“They’re both gorgeous,” Stone replied, diplomatically.

“I could get used to this,” Genevieve said waving an arm at the airplane’s interior.

“Don’t,” Dino replied. “Stone’s airplane isn’t as nice as this, and I can’t afford the rental on jets.”

“I’m going to get used to it, anyway,” she said, putting her head back and closing her eyes.

The pilot’s voice came through an overhead speaker. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we’re at our cruising altitude of forty-one thousand feet, making a little over four hundred knots. We’ll arrive at St. Marks in three hours and forty-one minutes. The toilet is forward, if you need it; please remember to close the curtain.”

“What’s the cabin altitude?” Stone asked.

“A thousand feet,” the pilot replied. “The pressurization is very good.”

Stone picked up a magazine and read until he was drowsy, then he napped. He was awakened by the pilot’s voice in his head.

“Landing at St. Marks in five minutes,” he said.

In exactly five minutes, Stone felt the airplane touch softly down. A couple of minutes later they taxied to a stop, and the pilot shut down the engines and opened the door, which was forward of the wing, then he went back to the cockpit for something.

Stone was first off the airplane, and he found himself facing half a dozen uniformed police officers, all black, pointing guns at him.

“Get on the ground,” a man in plain clothes and sunglasses said.

“What?” Stone asked.

“Get on the ground!” There was the sound of guns being racked.

Stone got on the ground.

6

Stone heard the others being ordered down, then he felt cold steel pressed against the back of his neck.

“Identify yourself,” a voice said.

Stone was about to do that when he heard a car screech to a halt and the door open and slam. “Stop that!” a man’s deep voice commanded.

The barrel of the weapon left Stone’s neck.

“Help them up,” the driver of the car said.

Someone put a hand under Stone’s elbow and helped him to his feet, along with the others.

“These people are my guests.”

Stone turned and saw Thomas Hardy walking toward him, smiling, his hand out.

“Thomas, I’m very glad to see you,” Stone said.

Thomas shook his hand and gave him a hug. “Let’s get your luggage into the car,” he said.

The policeman wearing dark glasses stepped up. “I require to see their passports,” he said.

“Of course, captain,” Thomas said. “Stone?”

Everyone produced a passport and handed it over. The captain motioned to a policeman who ran over and made a desk of his back while the captain stamped each passport, then handed them back to their owners. “My apologies,” he said, then with a wave for his troops to follow, walked away toward the small terminal.

“Thomas, let me introduce my friends: this is Dino Bacchetti, who used to be my NYPD partner; his girlfriend, Genevieve James; and my friend, Holly Barker.” He felt an elbow in his ribs. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry, this is Ginny Heller.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you all,” Thomas said. “Hop in, and I’ll drive you to the inn.” He leaned close to Stone’s ear. “Stone, you’d best learn the names of your women.”

“Right,” Stone whispered back. “I’ll explain later.”

The pilot finished loading the luggage into a Volvo station wagon. “Contact Mr. Cabot when you need me,” he said to Stone, “and on the way home you can fly right seat. That was my first solo flight in this airplane, and I didn’t want any witnesses.”

“Great job,” Stone said. Thomas started the car, and they drove away. “What was that all about, Thomas?” Stone asked.

“You’ll find that things have changed a bit in St. Marks,” Thomas said. “Since Sir Winston Sutherland became prime minister, the police take a greater interest in everyone than they once did.”

“It can’t be very good for tourism to do that to everybody who arrives.”

“No, it’s not, but they don’t bother the folks on commercial flights quite as much. They tend to look at every private airplane as a conveyer of drugs, and there is no faster way to get in trouble on this island than to possess illegal drugs.”

“Well, thanks for your help.”

“You’ll find things quite different at the English Harbour Inn, too. I’m a member of Parliament now, and I’ve prospered since the advent of Sir Winston, mostly because he likes my conch chowder, and, of course, because I pay him well under the table. I was allowed to buy some beachfront property from the government that’s adjacent to my own, and I’ve built a dozen cottages. You’re all in the nicest of them, and you’ll have your own housekeeper and butler.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“I bought the marina, too, and I’ve made improvements. You can even get wireless Internet on your yacht these days. The restaurant has been enlarged, and I got a new chef from England last year. I also started a liquor distribution company, so the wines are better than when you were last here.”

“Sounds like the advent of Sir Winston has brought all sorts of improvements.”

“He hasn’t been all bad,” Thomas said. “I’ve never learned to like the man, but he’s cracked down on crime, the roads have been improved, and the national income from tourism is up and headed higher, I think.”

“What’s the downside of Sir Winston?”

Thomas shrugged. “The payoffs are higher than with the last PM, but then so are the profits, and the police are more…observant of the citizens.” Thomas nodded toward the island’s central mountain in the distance; its top was shrouded in fog. “The old man is wearing his gray hair today,” he said. “Did you ever go to up to the top of Black Mountain?”

“No, I seemed to spend most of my time in a courtroom last time.”

“Ah, yes,” Thomas said, smiling. “I read about the exploits of the lovely Allison and her evil husband in Palm Beach a couple of years ago. They’ve been put away, I believe.”