Doing Hard Time (33 page)

“Vlad is getting closer,” Teddy said. “He was lying in wait for Peter outside the studio. We can’t make it easy for him anymore.”

The Strategic Services agent walked up. “You need to get a different car for tomorrow,” Teddy told him, pointing at the two SUVs. “No more identical SUVs—Vlad is on to that.”

“Right,” the man said. He produced a cell phone and called his headquarters.

“It troubles me,” Stone said, “that
I’m
the one who got to take the shot. Where were you?”

“I’m Peter’s body man at the studio. During transport, he’s in the hands of Strategic Services, as are you,” Teddy said. “Everybody did his job, except you—you didn’t have a job. You took matters into your own hands, and you missed. What was the range?”

Stone looked embarrassed. “Maybe four feet.”

“I don’t think Mike Freeman would hire you.”

The agent returned. “We’ll have different vehicles tomorrow—no SUVs.”

Teddy looked toward the rear of the hangar and saw Peter and Betsy standing outside the office, chatting. They shook hands, and Teddy joined them.

“I’ve just hired myself a personal assistant,” Peter said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Betsy, and I’ll leave a studio pass and a parking pass for you at the gate.”

Betsy went back upstairs, and Teddy and Peter sat down in the office.

“Betsy is perfect,” Peter said. “Two minutes into our conversation, she was redefining the job, and she was right. She’s going to work for Ben and Hattie, too, until we need more help. We’ve got another room at the bungalow that you and Betsy can use as an office. I’ll call Ruth and have her get some furniture in there.”

“Sounds great,” Teddy said. “Now let’s get to work.”

• • •

Stone rode back to The Arrington with his agent driver, and as they passed the Bel-Air Hotel, Stone said, “Let’s stop here for a drink.”

The driver ignored the instruction and continued on.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Stone asked.

“You used to be a cop, didn’t you?”

“Yes, for fourteen years.”

“During those years, how many times did you do security details, protecting a VIP?”

Stone thought about it. “Never.”

“I thought not, otherwise you wouldn’t ask me to take you into a place where two people who want to kill you and know what you look like are staying. Can you see why that wouldn’t be a good idea?”

Stone said nothing.

“You were hoping to get another shot, weren’t you?”

“All right, I guess I was.”

“You’ve already been involved in one shooting incident today and got off scot-free. You’ve got a lot to lose. Don’t push your luck.”

Stone and Mike Freeman were having an early breakfast. The kids had already left for work.

“I read the reports from yesterday,” Mike said.

“Your people did well.”

“Yes, they reacted well, even if one of them tiptoed along the edge of our company policies. He was reprimanded for that.”

“You should be pleased to have him working for you,” Stone said.

“I am, but all my people are expected to meet company standards in their behavior—that means
my
standards.”

“Mike, I apologize for leading your agent even a little astray, but I came within an inch of ending this.”

“Yes, and in the middle of a crowded Los Angeles avenue, with a cop watching from across the street and at least fifty potential witnesses.”

“We walked away from it,” Stone said.

“This time. You’re going to have to alter your behavior.”

“In what way?”

Mike sighed. “You’re going to have to be more careful.”

Stone looked at him askance. “You’re not telling me to stop trying?”

“Just be more careful,” Mike said. “And I will not collude with you on this.”

“Understood. Do you have any advice?”

“Don’t work alone,” he said. “You have access to someone who is experienced at these things, much more so than you or I.”

“Ah, Teddy. Or Billy. He thinks his best move is to guard Peter and take out Vlad when he comes for him.”

Mike shrugged. “That’s one way to work—a valid way.”

“He won’t go on offense because he says the Bel-Air is too secure.”

“Not
that
secure,” Mike said. “I think he means there are too many people around for him to get in and out alone.”

“So you’re telling me to work with Billy?”

“I told you, I will not collude with you in this business. However, I did send two men with Peter this morning, instead of one. They will be with him all day. That should free up Billy.” He took a jotter pad from a pocket, wrote down something, and slid it across the table. “This is Billy’s cell number.”

• • •

Stone was sitting at poolside, reading some contracts that had been sent from New York, when the phone beside him rang. “Yes?”

“Mr. Barrington, this is the front gate. There’s a Mr. Barnett to see you.”

“Send him up to the house.” He hung up. He had already alerted his security man.

Five minutes later, Billy Barnett was sitting next to him, sipping a Virgin Mary. “In my former existence,” Billy said, “we used to call this drink a Bloody Awful.”

Stone smiled. “A very good name.”

“Why did you want to see me?”

“Because I’m tired of this. It’s wearing us all down, waiting for Vlad to pounce. I’m sorry I missed him yesterday.”

“Patience is required,” Billy said.

“I’m not a patient person,” Stone said. “My personal motto is
Si non nunc quandro?
”

Teddy laughed. “‘If not now, when?’ I like it.”

“You know your Latin.”

“The product of a misspent youth,” Billy said.

“You said the Bel-Air was too secure to take it to Vlad there.”

“I did. That hasn’t changed.”

“It would be less secure, would it not, if you were two?”

“Half as secure,” Billy said. “Surely you’re not contemplating joining forces?”

“I am thinking exactly that,” Stone said. “In spite of my missed shot of yesterday. I am extremely angry, and taking out Majorov, too, would be a great bonus.”

“I think I prefer you in the role of lookout.”

“Looking out for what?”

“The Bel-Air is not a high-rise hotel with elevators and long corridors. It is a large cluster of buildings standing in a lush, tropical garden. That might make it easier to approach and enter a particular building, but the place is crawling with guests, and in particular, staff—maids, bellmen, room service waiters, valets, et cetera. However, it is possible to exclude them all from a particular suite for hours with a simple ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hung on a doorknob. Unfortunately, that will not stop the other occupant of the suite.”

“Quite right. I assume you have an inkling of a plan?”

“I followed the two gentlemen when they checked into their suite, so I know the number. I have since had a word with a staff member who, for an emolument, gave me two valuable pieces of information. One, every morning at seven-thirty or so, Mr. M. takes himself to the outdoor restaurant, where he consumes a large breakfast. Two, Mr. V., on the other hand, does not rise until Mr. M. returns and rousts him from his slumber. That means there is about an hour’s time available to enter the suite and deal with him decisively. Perhaps both of them.” He looked at his watch. “Not enough time to prepare today, but tomorrow?”

“Just tell me what you want me to do,” Stone said.

“I would like you to send flowers,” Billy replied, then he continued.

• • •

When Billy had finished, Stone thought about the plan and the risk to himself. “You’re on,” he said.

Teddy returned to Centurion and found Betsy at her new desk, making calls.

“Hi,” she said. “Peter asked us to join them and Stone at Spago for dinner tonight. Emma Tweed is back in town, and they’re taking her to dinner. She and Tessa are flying back to London tomorrow. I’m booking her ticket now.”

“Book us at a separate table, but nearby. Tell the restaurant it’s for security purposes.”

“All right. I’ll tell Peter.”

“And when he goes to lunch today, I want you to come with me for an hour.”

“All right.”

Teddy didn’t much like the idea of Peter’s dining out, but with the two Strategic Services agents and himself, he thought they should be able to keep him safe.

• • •

At noon, Peter, Ben, and Hattie left for lunch, and Teddy put Betsy in a golf cart and drove her to the armory.

“I’ve never asked you this, but have you ever fired a gun before?”

“I shot some skeet with a boyfriend once, but I’ve never fired a handgun.”

“After the near miss with the Viper, I’d feel better if you were armed.”

“Now that you mention it,” she said, “I think I’d feel better armed, too.”

He took her to the range and gave her his tiny Keltec .380 pistol, then he picked up the remote control and moved the target to ten feet. “Most gunfights are at this range or closer,” he said, “so there’s no point in training you to twenty-five or fifty feet.” He showed her how to operate the gun. “You couldn’t hit anything with this gun beyond ten feet anyway, the barrel is too short, so let’s have you fire some rounds now.”

He showed her the proper stance and grip. “Point it at the middle of the target,” he said, “both eyes open. Pull the trigger slowly, which is called ‘squeezing.’ Don’t jerk.”

She fired the six rounds; all of them hit the target, but none in the center. “Fire more slowly,” he said. “Concentrate on getting the first round in the center of the target. The rest will take care of themselves.”

She fired another magazine and did better; one more and she had an eight-inch grouping.

Teddy moved the target to five feet. “From here,” he said, “go for a head shot. When he’s this close, you’ve got to stop him, and the head is the quickest way.”

She fired two more magazines from that range and did well. Teddy took the little gun into the shop, cleaned and reloaded it, and gave it back to her. “Keep it in your bag, or better yet, in a pocket, if you have a pocket. Women seem never to have pockets.”

“Only when wearing jeans,” Betsy replied, making sure the gun was on safety before dropping it into her bag. “And they would be too tight to accommodate a gun.”

• • •

They went to dinner that night, and their table was well placed. Teddy looked at the group; they seemed very happy, and he wanted the evening to end that way. The two agents were at another conveniently located table.

“Why aren’t you looking at me?” Betsy asked. “It’s creepy talking to someone who isn’t looking at you.”

“I’m looking at the people I’m protecting,” he said, keeping his gaze past her. “I’m watching their backs. You watch mine.”

“Okay,” she said, putting her handbag on the table.