Two Dollar Bill (23 page)

All right.

Stone got out of the van and ran to the open door of the house. Inside, he was directed upstairs.

You can put Peter in the first bedroom, Corey said. Let's let him sleep.

Stone put the boy to bed and came back into the hallway.

In here, Corey said.

He walked into a kitchen, and beyond that was a nicely furnished living room. The shades were all drawn. Where are we?

We're in the carriage house of the Rocks, the house next door to you. The owner is away, but he's acquainted with Lance, so we're all right for as long as necessary. We have half a dozen people watching this place and your house, in case they come back for you. We can hope that happens, because it will make it easier for us to find them.

Stone nodded and sat down.

Have you had anything to eat? Corey asked.

I'm not hungry. Peter will be when he wakes up, though.

We've got some groceries; I'll make some soup. She busied herself in the kitchen.

A moment later, Peter walked into the room, rubbing his eyes. Where are we? he asked. Where are Mom and Ilsa?

Come in and sit down, Stone said. We had a call that someone in Ilsa's family is ill in Sweden, and she had to go home. Your mom has gone with her, to help her.

That doesn't sound like Mom, Peter said.

She'll be back next week sometime. In the meantime, you and I are going to stay here.

Where are we?

In the house next door to mine. We had a pipe break over there, and there's water all over the place, so we moved over here, to a friend's house.

Peter looked around. I don't like this as well as your house.

Neither do I, Stone said, but we'll be comfortable here until my house is fixed.

Hi, Peter, Corey said. I'm Annie; I'm a friend of Stone's.

How do you do, Annie? Peter said. He sat down and began to eat the soup she had put in front of him.

Stone tried to eat, too, and mostly failed. He had never felt so helpless.

THERE WERE FOUR bedrooms in the place, and they put Stone in the one next to Peter's. It was windowless and not well ventilated, and Stone slept fitfully until nearly daylight, then he finally drifted off. He was aware of people coming and going in the flat; apparently there was another place downstairs, so there was plenty of room.

He finally came fully awake a little after 9 A. M. and lay there, thinking, going over every moment he had spent with Billy Bob, or Jack Jeff, or whoever the hell he was. Everything the man had told him was either a lie or invented to back up a lie, and the invented things the phone numbers in Dallas and Omaha would be gone and the people who answered them gone, too, and probably impossible to find. Billy Bob's apartments in New York had already been thoroughly searched; Lance would have run down whatever Billy Bob had told the rental company who supplied the Hummer and driver; and Lance would have people tracking the Jack Jeff Kight name, but that would take time, and he didn't have time. Sooner, rather than later, Billy Bob would reel him in with a threat to Arrington, and the best he could hope for in such a meeting is that he and not Arrington would be murdered. It didn't seem an attractive prospect.

He called Joan at home.

Where are you? Joan asked. I've been trying you at the Connecticut house and on your cell phone, but I couldn't get an answer on either.

We had to leave the Connecticut house, but I can't come back to New York, yet, and I still don't want you to go to the house.

There's a strange phone message on the answering machine, she said. I erased a couple of others that don't matter, but you should listen to this one yourself. I didn't understand it.

I'll call now.

Where can I reach you?

I'll call you every day. Bye-bye. He hung up and dialed his New York number, then entered the code for the answering machine.

Hey, Stone, Billy Bob's voice said. I figured you'd check in for your messages sooner or later. We ought to get together real soon, because Arrington isn't eating, and I don't know how long she can last. Here she is. There was a scuffling sound, and Arrington came on. Don't look for me, she said quickly, just get out. This was followed by the sound of flesh striking flesh, and a cry, then Billy Bob came on. Well, she doesn't really seem herself today. The girl's a good lay, though, if you tie her down. I'm going to let you think about that for a little while, then I'll call this number again and leave you some instructions. If you don't follow them explicitly, I'll send you Arrington's head in the mail. See ya! He hung up.

Stone took deep breaths, trying not to feel what Billy Bob wanted him to feel. That had been the point of the message, and Stone had to fight it.

He had one other, very tenuous idea. He went to the living-room phone, where Corey couldn't hear him, and called Dino.

Bacchetti.

It's Stone.

Lance told me; you okay?

Yes, considering.

I've sent Mary Ann and Ben out to Eduardo's house; they'll be safe. Is Arrington's boy all right?

Yes. I told him his mother went to Sweden with the nanny. I'm not sure he bought it, but he's not asking too many questions yet.

You heard anything?

I had a message on my answering machine, designed to shake me up and make me pliable.

Let's get the fucker together; why should Lance have all the fun?

I had a thought; it's a long shot, but...

Tell me.

A few months ago, the burglar alarm was acting up, and Bob Cantor came by to fix it. He did the original installation. Bob Cantor was an ex-cop who supplied technical services to Stone when he needed them.

Yeah, Bob's good.

I was standing there, and when he finished and buttoned up the system, he wiped it down very carefully, and I asked him why. He said he wanted it clean, so that if anybody ever tampered with it, he could lift his prints.

Yeah, Bob's careful.

Billy Bob, or someone who works for him, tampered with it last week, and one of Lance's people came to fix it. That means that the prints of two people could be somewhere either on the alarm system box or on the main telephone box. Can you get somebody over there and see what you can lift from those two pieces of equipment?

Right away.

If you find prints and run them, there'll probably be a government block on Lance's man, but the other guy's might get us a name, and that's a start.

I'll get on it. Where can I call you?

I'll call you. And you can always reach me by leaving a message on the machine in Turtle Bay.

Your cell's not working?

Off and on where I am. It won't be reliable.

I've still got a key to your place. I'm on it.

Later. Stone hung up. Immediately, the phone rang, and he let Corey answer it.

It's Lance, for you, she said, handing him the phone.

Yes, Lance?

I heard Billy Bob's message on your answering machine. Don't let him get to you; that was the purpose of the message.

I know that; I'm trying not to think about it.

Arrington was smart enough not to mention Peter. I don't think Billy Bob has any idea he was with the two of you. He may check out the Virginia house and find out he's not there and begin to suspect.

Let him suspect; it won't do him any good. Peter's well protected by your people.

He certainly is. They don't come any better than McGonigle, and he has a first-rate team, Corey, especially.

I figured.

I've pulled out all the stops on this, Stone; we're running down every piece of information on Billy Bob and each of the aliases we know about. Something will turn up.

I hope you're right.

I could get the Bureau in on this, but it would get leaked. You want that?

Stone thought about it for a moment. No, I don't think so. I think it's better if we keep it tight.

Good. If I get to a point where I think it would really help, I'll call them in.

All right.

Try to get some rest, and keep Peter entertained. I don't want you to leave the house, though.

Where's my car?

Still in your driveway; you won't need it until this is over.

Right. Thanks, Lance. He hung up. Peter had come into the kitchen. Good morning, Peter.

Good morning, Stone.

Corey gave the boy a brilliant smile. Would you like some breakfast?

Yes, please, Peter replied.

Corey began making bacon and eggs. How old are you, Peter?

Five and a half, he replied, pulling up a chair.

Big for your age, aren't you?

No, I don't think so. Everybody in my kindergarten class is about my size. He turned toward Stone. What are we going to do today?

Well, I saw some games over there on a shelf, Stone replied. There's Monopoly and Scrabble and a couple of others, and you have your Gameboy.

Can't we go outside?

Well, it's real cold today, and it could rain or snow. Maybe we'd better stay inside, where it's snug and warm.

Okay.

Stone ate his eggs, counting the minutes until he could call Dino again.

STONE CALLED his home number every hour to check for messages. Nothing for the whole morning. Then, at one o'clock: It's Dino. I haven't been able to reach you for a couple of days. Call me when you get this.

Dino was playing it smart; he knew Lance might be listening in.

Stone started to call him on the landline, then stopped. If Lance were listening on his home number, he might be listening on this line, too. All the agents, except Corey, were out of the house at the moment, and she was playing Parcheesi with Peter. Stone got out his cell phone and began walking around the large apartment, checking for a signal at every window.

Finally, in the back bedroom, he got a one-bar signal. He called Dino.

Bacchetti.

It's Stone.

You're weak, can you speak up?

No, I'm on my cell phone. What's happening?

Sometimes you're brilliant, Stone. Not all that often, but...

What is happening, Dino?

We got three sets of prints. One of them, as you said, was government blocked. I ran the other two and came up with two names. One is a Martin Block, no record; he was printed in the army twenty years ago. The other is a Rocco Bocca, who got out of Sing-Sing just over a month ago.

Did they send Mitteldorfer back to Sing-Sing?

Yeah, I checked. I almost had them put him in solitary, but decided against it. He might be able to tip off Billy Bob.

Have you found out anything about Bocca?

You bet. He was doing five to seven on multiple burglary charges, served five and a half. And get this, he was working as a burglar alarm installer and hitting his clients.

He's our guy. You get an address?

I got his parole officer's name, but the guy is out of the office all day, and I couldn't get a cell number. I left a message, so if he calls his office, I'll hear from him.

Good news.

You want me to pick him up when I find out where he is?

No, but if you can put a tail on him, do that. If he meets Billy Bob it might be wherever he's holding Arrington.

Will do.

I'll keep calling my home phone every hour. Leave a message, if you learn anything more.

Okay.

Stone hung up and looked out the window. There was a narrow porch at the rear of the carriage house, with a door leading to it, locked from the inside. That was a way out, but not in daylight, because men were stationed outside. Maybe not at night, either, because two agents slept in this room. He walked around the apartment again, checking windows. The back porch was definitely his best bet.

STONE SPENT the afternoon playing games with Peter and checking his answering machine for messages. Nothing more came in, until close to dark, when Dino called again: I don't understand why you're not returning my calls, he said. You out of the country, or something?

It was completely dark by six o'clock, and agents were coming in for dinner. They were taking turns cooking or bringing in pizzas from the local parlor in Washington Depot. Peter preferred the pizzas.

Stone ate one slice, then clutched his gut. Jesus, he said. Please excuse me for a few minutes.

He left them sitting around the table and went to a bathroom in the hallway, closing the door, then he got his overcoat from his room, put it on and crept down the hall toward the rear bedroom. There was a roar of laughter from the people at the dining table.

Stone walked quickly across the bedroom, opened the door and stepped out onto the rear porch, closing it quickly behind him. He didn't want anyone feeling a cold draft in the house. There was a fire ladder at one end of the porch, and he climbed down it, then stood at the bottom, his back to the wall, and listened. Somebody coughed.