Wild Card (Stone Barrington #49)(25)

Everyone looked at one another.

“I’ve known everybody here for some time,” Stone said. “Except for one person.” He turned to face Sherry. “You’re new to this circle,” he said to her.

Sherry looked panicked. “I haven’t spoken to anyone about my whereabouts.”

“What about your cell phone?” Stone asked. “Have you been using that?”

“Only the throwaway that Bob gave me,” she said.

“Just a minute, Stone,” Bob said. He got up and walked over to where Sherry sat. “Gentlemen, please avert your eyes.” They did so. “Sherry, please stand up and put your hands on top of your head.”

“It’s not me,” Sherry said vehemently, but she did as Bob asked.

Bob began with her feet. He took off her shoes, inspected them carefully, then set them down. He reached around her, unfastened her jeans, and inspected them, inside and out. Then he pulled her panties down to her knees and inspected them. That done, he pulled her clothing up and refastened her jeans, then he went over her upper body from navel to armpits, feeling her bra and inside it. Finally, he took off the light leather jacket she was wearing and inspected her shirt, then the jacket. “Sherry,” Bob said, “you’re the spy.”

“I am not!” she shouted.

“Gentlemen, you may look again.” Bob held up her jacket, turned up the collar, and removed a small, flat disk, about the size of a dime. “You just didn’t know you were the spy,” he said. He sat back down, took a tool from his pocket, and opened the disk. “This is not mass-produced stuff. It’s handmade to a clever design. Do you want me to destroy it, Stone?”

“Not yet,” Stone replied.

“But Sherry hasn’t been to the airport,” Rawls said. “How’d they know to go there?”

“Probably just making the rounds of likely places,” Bob said. “They got lucky at the airport. But, Sherry, when did they attach it?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Wait a minute. Shortly after I arrived at the house I found a button loose, and Heather offered to sew it on for me.”

“There you go,” Bob said.

“Then why didn’t they find you at the boatyard when you were looking for Breeze?” Stone asked.

“Because I saw Hurd drive up with a policeman. I called nine-one-one and told them where to find the van I’d stolen. Shortly after, the cop got a radio call, listened for a moment, then he and Hurd got back into his car.”

“That was a smart move,” Stone said.

“Smarter than I knew,” she said. “By the time they checked out the van and returned, Breeze had sailed.”

“What sort of range would that thing have?” Stone asked Bob.

“Hard to say. Maybe a mile or two. But it could be better than I know. I’d need to disassemble it, put it back together, and test it, and I don’t have what I need for that here.”

“Then take it outside and leave it on the deck when we leave. They’ll think we’re still here. Once we’re at the airport and take off, they won’t be able to track us on FlightAware. And if I know Faith, she’ll have filed for someplace like Teterboro, and after we’re out of sight she’ll ask the ATC for a destination change and head for Key West.”

“Do these people know about your Key West house?” Bob asked.

“I don’t see how they could. It’s not like it’s been featured in Architectural Digest.”

“Then after we take off we’ll have shaken them,” Bob said.

“I hope you’re right,” Stone said. “I’m getting tired of them. Ed, maybe I should have taken your original advice on how to handle them.”

“Yeah,” Rawls replied. “And now there are more of them, we don’t know how many.”

“At least four,” Stone said. “If I start seeing them in Key West, I’m going to take more than evasive action.”

“I’ll be glad to help with that,” Rawls said.

Captain Todd came into the saloon. “Your van is here.”

They got their luggage together, put it on a cart, and went to the van. Rawls looked behind them all the way to the airport.

Once there, Stone got out and looked around. “They must think we’re still aboard the yacht,” he said.

“More likely, they’re just not up yet,” Rawls replied, looking at his watch.

They took off at six o’clock sharp.





20


Stone flew left seat. He took off and flew the clearance he had been given for Teterboro, while Faith worked the radios. “Boston Center,” she said, “this is N123TF, climbing through 210 for flight level 450. Request a destination change.” She waited for the response, then: “Request jet routes along the coast to final destination Echo Yankee Whiskey. She stood by while the controller worked it out, then gave her the clearance. “Okay,” she said to Stone. She entered the new route into the flight computer and pressed DIRECT to the first waypoint, then pressed the autopilot button. The autopilot was flying the airplane now.

Stone gave up the left seat, Faith moved over to replace him, and her copilot took the right seat.

Stone went back to speak with his group, but they were all fully reclined under blankets and dead to the world. He found a blanket and a pillow and, satisfied that his pursuers had no idea where they were going, fell asleep himself.