Turbulence (Stone Barrington #46)(40)
Stone walked over to the helicopter. “This looks as though it would seat at least eight,” he said, “including the pilots.” He looked through a window to confirm his judgment and saw something he’d not expected.
“Here, what are you doing?” a man behind them said with an Irish accent. He was wearing a flak jacket and carrying an assault rifle with a long, curved magazine.
“Just walking the pups,” Stone said.
“Well, you can’t do it in here,” the man said. “Out with you.”
They left the hangar and walked back toward the house. Stone let the dogs off their leads again and threw the ball.
“Pity we were disturbed before we saw more,” Kelly said.
“I saw enough,” Stone said.
“What do you mean?”
“The chopper has a row of seats removed, and a wooden crate is set there on a pallet, the kind a small forklift uses for lifting.”
Kelly stopped. “How big?”
“Not terribly, but if they need a pallet for lifting, it’s heavy.”
“Do you think . . . ?”
“It seems to be the right size,” Stone said. “Call Lance.”
Kelly whipped out her cell phone and pressed some buttons, then put it to her ear. “No service,” she said. “Not even one bar.”
“Well, we are pretty far from a town, I suppose. Was there service in the house?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t try to make any calls.”
“Neither did I, and I didn’t receive any e-mails, either.”
“Let’s get back to the house and try again.”
They trudged off while King and Sheba frolicked in the grass and chased the ball. Eventually, they made it to the house, dropped off the dogs at the kennels, and said their goodbyes.
Inside the house they found an enormous breakfast buffet set up in the main hall.
“I’m starved,” Stone said.
Kelly checked her phone. “Still no service; we’ll have to go into a town.”
“They’ve got our car,” Stone said, “and I don’t want to have to explain why we’re leaving. We’ll try again upstairs; maybe some altitude will help.”
They piled plates with scrambled eggs, sausages, and home-baked bread, toasted. There were pitchers of orange juice and glasses on the tables. They joined the Pelton-Furnhams.
“Good morning to you,” the barrister said. “You look as though you’ve been outside already.”
“We took a morning walk,” Stone said. “Borrowed a couple of Labrador Retrievers from the kennels for some company.”
“Jolly good company at that. Got a pair, myself; couldn’t live without them. Do you shoot?”
“Not to speak of,” Stone said. “My Lab at home is purely for the company.”
“I believe they’re setting up for some skeet this afternoon,” Pelton-Furnham said. “Join me?”
“Why not?”
“May I, too?” Kelly asked. “Or is it just for the little boys?”
“Oh, I’m shooting, too,” Molly said. “We’ll fight them off together.”
* * *
—
UPSTAIRS, THEY TRIED their phones again, to no avail. There was no landline in the room, either. There was a knock on the door, and Stone opened it to find a footman waiting.
“The trolley is waiting for your downstairs for your tour of the zoo, Mr. Barrington.”
“We’ll be right down. Is there a telephone I can use? We can’t get any cell service.”
“That’s the way it is,” the man said. “You’d have to go to the village.”
“May I have my car brought round?”
“I’m afraid they’re all locked in a barn, sir, and the staff are all busy with other activities. Our office has a phone, but it’s closed on weekends.”
“Thank you, we’ll be right down.”
* * *
—
OUTSIDE, THEY CLIMBED ABOARD a train of tramcars, each with plexiglass doors to keep out the weather and, presumably, the lions.
Kelly was still trying her phone, with no luck. “Lance is going to have to wait,” she said.
“He’d hate to be disturbed on a Saturday morning, anyway,” Stone replied.
32
THE LITTLE TRAINS, three of them, spaced out and moved toward a forested area half a mile or so ahead of them. They came to a high fence, and the gates opened for them, then closed behind them.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the driver said over his PA system, “from this point onward I must ask you not to open your door for any reason. There are creatures in these woods who might like to come inside for all the wrong reasons, and they do not respond well to petting. Nor should you offer them food, because they always demand more.”
Stone could see, fifty yards ahead, a lioness lying in the grass keeping a sharp eye on three cubs who were playing in front of her. She took no notice of the trams as they passed. Then there was a noise, and the train Stone and Kelly were riding in shook. Stone looked up and found a lion lying on top of his car.
“That’s just Caesar,” the driver said. “He’s a particularly lazy lion and likes a ride now and then.” Caesar kept his position until a low-lying limb encouraged him to jump down and trot away.