Smooth Operator (Teddy Fay) (5 page)

A
t eleven o’clock sharp, Teddy Fay, disguised in his James Byrd identity, stood in the street outside a restaurant reading the
Washington Post
and observing Stone Barrington through the front window. Stone sat alone at a table in the back, nursing a cup of coffee.

None of the diners appeared to be paying any attention to Stone, and no one seemed to be watching from the street. Teddy might have felt reassured, except someone had tried to kill him last night, and he had no idea what the hell was going on.

Teddy whipped a burner phone out of his pocket.

—

MIKE FREEMAN,
CEO of Strategic Services, the prestigious private security firm, scooped up the phone in his New York office. “Freeman.”

“You know who this is?” Teddy said.

“No.”

“You once tried to hire me.”

“Ah, yes. You ready to take the job?”

“Not just yet. I need a favor.”

“I’m more inclined to do favors for agents who work for me.”

“I don’t think you’ll mind. It’s for the benefit of a mutual friend.”

“Who might that be?”

“The guy who introduced us.”

“What do you want?”

“Got any agents in D.C.?”

“What do you think?”

“Good. Here’s what I need.”

—

“MR. BARRINGTON?”

Stone Barrington looked up from the table. “Yes?”

The young man placed a cell phone on the table. “Mike Freeman wanted you to have this.”

“Why?”

“He wants you to make a call from this phone.” The agent rattled off a phone number.

“You don’t have it written down?”

“I was told not to.”

“Say it again.”

The agent did. Stone committed it to memory. “Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“You can go.”

As soon as the agent left, Stone punched in the number.

Teddy Fay answered on the first ring. “You know who this is?”

“Yes. Why the cloak-and-dagger?”

“Your phone’s been hacked.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ll explain later. We have to assume our meeting’s blown. Pay your bill, go out the front door, turn right, walk two blocks, and turn left. Keep your cell phone on. When you reach the other side of the street, raise it to your ear. Don’t look to see who’s following you, that’s my job. Start now. Leave your phone on, pay your check, and go.”

Stone couldn’t help glancing around for assassins as he paid his bill. He went out, followed Teddy’s directions. As he crossed the street he raised his phone to his ear to receive further instructions.

“Go down in the Metro, buy a fare card but don’t use it, stick it in your pocket, go right back up the same stairs.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m not just serious, I’m cautious.”

Stone went down in the Metro. He put five bucks in the machine and bought a fare card. He stuck it in his pocket, went back up the stairs, and raised the phone to his ear.

“You did good,” Teddy said.

“What do you mean?”

“Buying the Metro card. Nine people out of ten would have
made a show of pretending they’d changed their mind about taking the train. You just bought the card and left.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t feel like a fool. Was anyone following me?”

“Yes, me. See the greasy spoon on the corner?”

“I do.”

“Let’s go in there.”

“Why?”

“Is it one you ever use?”

“Hell, no.”

“Then I like it.”

Stone walked into the diner. It had a Formica counter with metal bar stools, and a row of booths.

“Sit at a booth.”

“They’re all taken.”

“Sit at the one I’m at.”

Stone looked again. Teddy Fay, in the persona of James Byrd, sat at the booth in the corner. It took Stone a moment to reconcile the younger man with the brown mustache with the man he’d last seen as Billy Barnett.

Stone slid into the booth. Teddy signaled for the waitress. “I’ll have coffee now, more when the order comes. Give me scrambled eggs with bacon and sausage.”

“I’ll have coffee and an English muffin,” Stone said.

The waitress left, scribbling the order.

“Already eaten?” Teddy said.

“Hours ago.”

“Figures. What’s up?”

“This conversation never took place.”

“That’s my favorite kind.”

“I need your help.”

“I’m an associate producer. Are you making a movie?”

“No.”

“Too bad. I’d like to make a movie.”

“You have the particular talents necessary for this job. You’ve been erased. Obliterated. A complete and total data dump. I can Google you and come up empty. I can run your fingerprints and not get a match. You don’t exist, which is exactly what this job needs. Plausible deniability.”

“You’re making it sound irresistible.”

“Wait until you hear the pay scale.”

“What’s that?”

“Absolutely nothing. Technically you don’t get expenses. In reality I’ll pay for lunch.”

“Do I get a thank-you?”

“Actually, no. That would mean acknowledging you’d done something. Trust me, no one wants to do that.”

“Heaven forbid.”

“If it goes well, you get to watch on television while everyone else takes the credit.” Stone cocked his head. “Sound good to you?”

“Hey, you had me at ‘this conversation never took place.’ So what if it doesn’t go well?”

“That would not be good.”

“Will I be alive?”

“That would be the desired outcome.”

The waitress came back, slid coffee in front of them. Teddy dumped in cream and sugar, stirred it, and took a big gulp.

“Look, Stone. Your son’s a stand-up guy. I like working for him, I like coming up with neat ways to kill people and no one gets upset, they put it in the script. I like having a wife and a home and a job. I owe you for the presidential pardon. Without it, I’d still be on the run. But it’s retroactive, and
only
retroactive. It’s a pardon for everything I’ve
done
. But it’s not a license to kill. I kill someone else, I’m back on the run.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I already did.”

“What?”

“That’s the reason for the fun and games. Someone tried to kill me when I went to pick up Peter’s plane. And who knew I was going to do that? Absolutely no one, unless they were listening on your phone.”

“Who tried to kill you?”

“A college student, of all people. It makes no sense.”

“No kidding. Someone took a shot at me, too.”

“When?”

“Last night, when I was on my way to the White House.”

“The White House?”

“That’s right. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Which is not a good position for someone people are trying to kill. What the hell is going on?”

“Yesterday afternoon the President summoned me to the White House to attend a state dinner. It was a last-minute invitation. I was rushed here by helicopter, fitted into a tux that had been sewed for me that afternoon. Between the tailor shop and the White House, someone took a shot at my car.”

“Who?”

“I didn’t stick around to find out. I jumped out of the car, tore my tux, went back to have it stitched, got to the dinner late, and sat at a table with an attractive young lady lawyer and a bunch of stuffy old congressmen. After dinner I was smuggled into the Oval Office, where the President was meeting with the Speaker of the House.”

“I know about that.”

“No, you don’t. The bipartisan initiative is a ruse. Someone kidnapped his daughter and is going to kill her unless he can swing enough Republican votes to pass the Democratic version of the veterans aid bill.”

“And Kate knew about this all along?”

“No, she found out yesterday afternoon. Up till then she thought the Speaker was making bipartisan overtures. When she found out what was going on, she called me in.”

“Why?”

Stone looked at him.

“No offense meant,” Teddy said, “but she’s the President of
the United States and used to be head of the CIA. Surely she doesn’t have to rely on an ex-cop from New York.”

“That was the whole point. The Speaker was told not to involve the authorities or they’d kill the girl. She thought she could bring me in under the radar.”

“And you figured the same thing about me.”

“Well, there’s nobody more under the radar than you. Your presidential pardon cleared your record. For all intents and purposes, you do not exist. Who better to find the congressman’s daughter than the man who isn’t there? Plus, you actually have skills. If you could outwit the CIA for years, you ought to be able to deal with some kidnapper.”

“Thanks for your support. That sounds good in theory. In point of fact, it means zero. I can’t find the girl without looking for her, so the kidnapper will know
someone
is. He won’t know who, but that doesn’t matter. The fact it’s happening is what puts her in danger.”

“I understand that.”

“So, basically you’re asking me to get the girl killed so you don’t have to.”

“I’m counting on you to be smart enough not to.”

“Okay, so far you’re the weak link. You get brought on the job, someone tries to kill you. You bring me in, someone tries to kill me. The only way they know I’m involved is if someone hacked your phone. Can I see it?”

Stone took it out, handed it over.

Teddy pried the back panel off. He reached in with the tine of a fork, popped out a little clip. “There you go. That’s the source of your trouble. Who had access to your phone between the time you were summoned to Washington and the time you called me?”

“No one.”

“Then where did the bug come from? I’d rethink that position.”

The waitress slid their orders onto the table. The eggs were greasy, but Teddy took no notice. He dug in as if taking on fuel. Stone could see his mind churning.

“You sleep with her?”

“Who?”

“The pretty lawyer who sat next to you at dinner.”

“She showed up at my hotel room.”

“No kidding. That’s how your phone got bugged.”

Stone shook his head. “I called you before that.”

“Yes, but
after
dinner.”

“Oh, hell.”

“What?”

“She picked my cell phone up off the floor.”

“During dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“Bingo.” Teddy buttered some toast. “Okay, the lady lawyer’s one possibility. The question is how did she know you’d be at the dinner? How’d you get summoned to the White House?”

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Try me.”

“Dino Bacchetti tracked me down on a young lady’s yacht on the Hudson River to tell me to call the President’s chief of staff.”

“How the hell’d he do that?”

“In a Coast Guard cutter.”

“Who’s the chief of staff?”

“Ann Keaton.”

“Didn’t you used to be involved with her?”

“That was a while ago.”

“What happened?”

“When Kate won the presidency Ann became chief of staff. I’m in New York, she’s in D.C. She has a lot of responsibilities.”

“And another man?”

“She may have a boyfriend.”

“Okay, she’s a possible source. And there aren’t many.” Teddy waved the waitress over for more coffee. He watched her move off and said, “Tell me about the kidnapping.”

“The girl’s been gone since Sunday night. The Speaker got phone calls warning him not to go to the police, followed by an anonymous letter.”

“A ransom demand?”

“No. It was a photocopy of his daughter’s arrest record.”

“She has one?”

“She got busted for pot in college. Her lawyer got it down to a misdemeanor and she paid the fine.”

“And the Speaker would pay to hush it up?”

“You’d think so. He’s a conservative antidrug crusader. But
everybody knows about the arrest—he even campaigned on it. ‘My own daughter got busted in college—if it can happen in my family, it can happen in yours. What if pot is just the beginning?’ Pretty effective. Makes you overlook the way drug laws are putting poor people in jail while rich offenders go free.”

“So why did they send it?”

“The congressman doesn’t know. As you can imagine, he’s hysterical.”

“All to swing a vote?”

“Apparently.”

“Who knows this?”

“The congressman, the President, me, and now you. That’s it. Not even the ex-President knows.”

“She’s holding out on her husband?”

“So she says. If they’re whispering in the bedroom, there’s no way to know.”

Teddy mopped up his eggs with the toast. “And you want me to fix it.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask.”

Teddy pushed back his plate. “I’m going to do it, and not just because I owe you. I know you don’t want to ask me any more than I want to say yes. But you did and I will. I’ll tell you why. If it wasn’t for the fact that there is a congressman involved, this is a run-of-the-mill kidnapping. The most ordinary of crimes. But I’ll do it for the same reason you had to ask.”

Teddy took a big gulp of coffee.

“This isn’t what it seems.”

C
ongressman Marvin Drexel sat up straight in his desk chair and gripped the phone tighter than usual. “No, I
don
’
t
know what’s going on, and I don’t like it. Blaine’s up to something. He won’t return my calls. We need to line up defenses, find some congressmen we can hold. I’m having lunch with Radner and Newbridge and I’m confident I can bring them on board. But after that, I’m scrabbling.”

Drexel slammed down the phone, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his chin. How did things get so fouled up? Last week everything was fine. Suddenly it’s all falling apart. The Speaker was up to something, a most unexpected development given that the Speaker was a hard-line conservative as steadfast as they come. Just the idea that he was reaching out to the President would be enough to sway some of the least powerful congressmen, the ones who would fear losing their districts if
a bill allocating money for wounded vets passed and they’d voted against it. And Congress would never get to vote on the amendment.

The worst thing was it was
his
amendment. He’d added it with much fanfare, tacked it onto the veterans aid bill, a rallying cry to his fellow Republicans, greeted with overwhelming support. If the clean bill were to be voted through, it would be a personal slap in the face, a disaster of epic proportions, the type of blunder that endangered reelection.

And now he was late for lunch.

The congressman slammed out the door, took the elevator down to the lobby. It was crowded around one
PM
when the whole world was going out to lunch. He usually beat the crowd, but today he got a late start.

He wondered if he should take a cab. It was only four blocks to the restaurant, but he was too keyed up to walk. It would take too long, and he needed to get there quickly, relax his mind. It wouldn’t do to let people see he was shaken. He had a reputation for being precise, always poised, even under pressure. He couldn’t afford to appear uncertain.

He came out the front door, looked to see if there was a cab. If there was, he’d hail it. If not, he’d walk.

His head exploded as the bullet ripped through his brain.