Unintended Consequences - By Stuart Woods

31





Stone stood in front of the Plaza Athénée, having paid his bill with Marcel’s expense money, and watched the Maybach glide to a stop a yard away. He made sure that all his bags and his briefcase were put into the trunk and had a look at the street before sliding into the rear seat next to Marcel. He saw two vehicles, a black Mercedes sedan and a gray van, double-parked across the street. The van had steel beams where the bumpers usually were.

“Good morning, Stone.”

“Good morning, Marcel. I see from the weather report that we have a good day for flying.”

“Yes, the storm has moved off to the south. I believe that Lyon is feeling it by now.” The car pulled away.

“I spoke to Rick LaRose last night,” Stone said, “and told him of our conversation regarding communication with our friend in Virginia.”

“Ah, good. I suppose when I return I will have to communicate through Mr. LaRose.”

“You may if you wish, but if you phone me on the cell phone that Lance gave you, our conversations will be scrambled, since I have the same phone.” He wrote the number on his business card and gave Marcel his personal card, as well. “This is my address and various phone numbers in New York. Please feel free to give them to anyone who wishes to contact you while you’re with us.”

“Thank you,” Marcel said, and tucked the card into his wallet.

They drove north along the Seine for a time, chatting idly. Marcel was making a phone call when Stone looked across the car and out the window to see a black Mercedes drawing up beside them and a rear window coming down. The morning sun glinted on the barrel of an automatic weapon as it was pointed through the open window by a man wearing a dark balaclava helmet, obscuring his face. Stone was about to pull Marcel onto the floor of the car when there was a loud crash, and the Mercedes rocketed forward.

The gray van was behind the black car, and it accelerated again, slamming its bolted-on steel beam against the rear bumper of the Mercedes. Marcel’s driver had slowed to remain clear of the two vehicles, and they watched as the van continued to assault the car. Then the van moved alongside the Mercedes and slammed, broadside, into the vehicle. The car hit the low railing and tipped over the edge, falling off the elevated roadway.

Stone looked over his shoulder in time to see the Mercedes ricochet off the lower level, ten feet down, then topple into the Seine. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to the driver.

Marcel sat rigid in his seat, his face drained of color, staring straight ahead. He said something in French that sounded to Stone like an oath, then he switched to English. “What happened?” he asked.

“Someone was about to fire a weapon at us from the black Mercedes, but a van struck it from behind repeatedly and dumped it into the Seine.” He patted Marcel’s arm. “It’s all right now. Rick LaRose is driving the van, and he is behind us.”

“How did someone know where to find us?” Marcel asked.

“The Mercedes followed me from your building to the hotel yesterday afternoon. Rick and I had a conversation about it last evening, and he told me he would take precautions for our drive to Le Bourget.”

“You know,” Marcel said, “I believe I have chosen the correct moment to leave Paris for a while.”

• • •

On their arrival at Le Bourget, they drove through a guarded gate and drew up next to a Gulfstream 650 business jet, which already had one engine running, on the opposite side of the aircraft.

Stone got out of the car and found Rick LaRose waiting for him. “Nice driving,” he said. “Is the ambassador going to have to have another chat with the prefect of police?”

“I think I can handle this one on my own,” Rick said. “Enjoy your flight, and let me hear from you sometime.”

Stone gave him his card, they shook hands, then Rick got into the van and drove away. Men appeared to take their luggage, and as soon as they had climbed the stairs and stepped into the airplane, the steps were taken away and the second engine started. A moment later, they were taxiing.

A uniformed young Frenchwoman showed them to seats at the rear of the airplane, an area arranged to look more like a comfortable study than ordinary airplane seating. Shortly after that the airplane accelerated, then they were off the ground and climbing steeply. The stewardess appeared with champagne and orange juice, and Stone had some of each.

“You know,” Marcel said, “that was really quite a performance with the van and the Mercedes. I suddenly feel more kindly disposed toward your friends at the CIA.”

“There are times when it’s good to have friends,” Stone said, picking up a phone on the table in front of him. “I’ll see that we’re met at the other end.” He called Mike Freeman.

• • •

A couple of hours later, after reading the New York and Paris papers, they were served a good lunch, then Stone went forward to a reclining seat and had a nap. The stewardess awakened him as they were descending over Long Island toward Teterboro Airport in New Jersey, and five minutes later they were on the ground.

A car from Strategic Services pulled up to the airplane and received Stone and Marcel and their luggage, and another car followed as they were driven into Manhattan. Thirty minutes later, they pulled up to Stone’s house. Two watchful men stood by the car as they got out and went inside, where Stone’s secretary, Joan Robertson, and his housekeeper and cook, Helene, and her elder brother, Philip, waited. Philip was a retired butler and driver engaged for the occasion, and he showed Marcel upstairs to his room.

“I thought Philip could be useful during Mr. duBois’s stay,” Joan said.

“A great idea,” Stone replied.

“Mike Freeman and Bill Eggers have arranged a dinner at the Four Seasons at nine o’clock,” she said, “and Dino wants you to call him.” She handed him a card. “He has a new office number.”

Stone looked at the card, which announced that Dino Bacchetti was the new chief of detectives of the NYPD. “He didn’t waste any time getting started after the honeymoon, did he?” Stone said.

“And Mrs. Bacchetti has already started her new job at Strategic Services. They’ll be at the dinner tonight.”

“It’s good to be home,” Stone said. He went upstairs to unpack and call Dino.