Hit List (Stone Barrington #53)(8)

“Locked up where?” Dino asked.

“My best guess is Guantánamo,” Stone said.

“Then he’s been out of touch with his fellow countrymen since Lance’s people arrested him on his yacht.”

“I expect so,” Stone said. “Though it was more like a kidnapping. Lance must have had a plane waiting.”

They were on coffee in the study when Dino’s phone went off, and he answered it. “Bacchetti. Where? Be there in five.” He hung up. “You’re going to have to excuse me, but we’ve got another hit from your list.”

“I want to come,” Vanessa said.

“So do I,” Stone echoed, rising.

“No,” Dino said. “It will shock you, Vanessa, and it will bore Stone. I won’t be long. This is currently our most visible case, and I have to make an appearance. Save me some dessert.”

Dino left, and they sat down again, Vanessa in Stone’s lap. “I’m glad Dino’s gone,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”

Stone kissed her, then picked her up and set her next to him on the sofa. “Dino’s coming back. We don’t want to start something now and shock him when he walks in.”





7


Vanessa ignored his instructions and climbed back aboard, straddling him. “I’m not wearing any underwear,” she said, going for his belt buckle. Before he could stop her he was inside her.

“There!” she said, moving slowly.

“You’re too quick for me,” he said, helping.

“I am. Remember that.”

“How could I forget it?”

They were at the point of climax when the doorbell rang.

“Don’t answer it yet,” she said, moving faster.

“Dino has a key,” Stone replied. “Ringing the bell was his way of being polite.” He picked her up and set her aside again, adjusted his clothing, and managed to be pouring three brandies when Dino walked in, having made coughing noises as he crossed toward the study.

“Gee, I hope one of those is for me,” he said.

Stone handed them each a snifter and took one for himself. He buzzed Helene and told her that now was a good time for dessert.

Dino reached over and adjusted Stone’s necktie. “There, that’s better,” he said. “I hope.”

“Everything is fine, Dino,” Stone replied. “Now, tell us what happened.”

“Trisha Marshall happened,” Dino. “Number nine on your list, right before you.”

“Where?”

“Would you believe the ice rink at Rockefeller Center, and with two cops watching her?”

“You have cops on skates?”

“Not exactly,” Dino replied. “They were watching from the perimeter when she seemed to trip and fall. Then they saw the blood. They both fell down, running across the ice. She’d taken a round in the back of the neck at the top of the spine. She never knew what hit her.”

“Anybody hear a shot?”

“No, but it came from above, at street level, and nobody heard anything or saw it fired. At this time of night the crowds are thinning out.”

“Please add the ballistics report on that one to the other one you’re sending to Lance.”

“Sure. It’s gotta be from the same gun.”

“And the gun is probably from Lance’s armory, down in technical services at Langley.”

“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” Dino said.

Fred entered with a tray of Greek pastries, rich with honey, and gave them forks.

“It’s a good hypothesis, and you know it,” Stone said.

“We’re not going to make an immediate announcement,” Dino said.

“You won’t have to. Type is being set as we speak, and I’ll bet there were three TV trucks there before you left.”

“Four,” Dino said, “but all NBC had to do was walk across the street.”

Stone reached for the TV remote control, but Dino held up a hand. “Don’t please; I’ve already seen it, and you can wait until tomorrow morning.”

“Have you thought about a copycat?” Stone said. “After all, a series of murders is an invitation to anybody who’d like to knock off a spouse or an ex.”

“It crossed my mind, but it’s too soon. Maybe after the next one.”

Vanessa spoke up. “You think there’ll be a next one?”

“As sure as brandy follows coffee,” Stone said, pouring them more.

“There’s always an opportunist out there,” Dino said.

“Or two,” Stone added.

“God forbid.” Dino’s phone went off again. He checked the caller ID, then switched off the instrument. “I don’t know how these people get my cell number, but they do, inevitably.”

“Next thing you know,” Stone said, “they’ll be ringing the doorbell.”

“Nobody knows where I am but my driver.”

The doorbell rang.

Stone picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“Commissioner Bacchetti, please.”

“Wrong house, wrong time of day,” Stone said, then hung up.

“That was my driver,” Dino said, getting to his feet. “I turned off my cell, so he had to ring the bell.” He tossed off the remainder of his brandy. “I’m going to go home and hide there,” he said. “Tell Helene it was a wonderful dinner, as always, and you two sleep well. Or something.” He departed.