Unintended Consequences - By Stuart Woods

37





Two days later, Marcel had an early meeting with auto show officials about his display, and Stone was at his desk when three men arrived, carrying valises, boxes, and tools.

“I’m Joe,” their leader said, offering his hand.

“Good morning, Joe. You want to tell me exactly what you’re putting in?”

“The best security system in a private house in New York City,” Joe replied. “If you can dream up a function, it can do it.”

“All right, but stop by and explain it to me when you’re done.”

“Give me an eight-digit code,” Joe said.

Stone gave him a familiar mix of letters and numbers, and Joe and his colleagues went to work, starting at the top of the house.

Stone asked Joan to phone his Connecticut housekeeper and have her lay in groceries for the weekend, then Mike Freeman called.

“Lance Cabot called yesterday. A guy named Majorov from Paris has made it past immigration. I think Lance was ashamed to tell you.”

“And well he should be,” Stone said. “By the way, Marcel is going to call you about auditing his computer systems and making security recommendations. An acquaintance of his in Germany just got stung for sixty million euros.”

“He has already done so. We’re on it.”

“I’m getting Marcel out of town for the weekend. Lance is having my windows replaced with more substantial ones, and I’m nervous about the presence of Majorov in New York.”

“Good idea. I’ll let my people know.”

“We’re going to drive the Blaise, leaving after lunch tomorrow, and I’d like your people to follow in the Bentley, in case something alarms us and we need shelter for Marcel.”

“Good idea.” They hung up.

It occurred to Stone that he was nervous for Helga’s safety, as well as Marcel’s, since it was she who had taken out the Russians’ man Aldo.

Joe suddenly appeared at his office door. “Mr. Barrington,” he said, holding up something electronic-looking. “We’ve already found two bugs in your house. I take it you have enemies?”

Stone followed Joe upstairs and looked at the telephone panel he had opened.

“Right there,” Joe said, pointing. “Your office line and your line one.”

“Any idea how long?” Stone asked.

“It’s not the latest stuff,” Joe replied. “It could have been there for a couple of years.”

Stone sighed. It seemed to him that anyone could bug his phones or his house whenever they felt like it. “Joe, I hope when you’re done here it won’t be as easy to bust into my system.”

“Fear not,” Joe said. “Only I could do it.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Stone said.

“Another thing, though,” Joe said, holding up the bugs. “This equipment broadcasts a signal from your house that’s not good for more than a block or two. Whoever was listening in was probably doing so within sight of your house.”

“Where was the equipment made?” Stone asked.

“Well, it doesn’t have ‘Made in USA’ stamped on it, or anywhere else, but it could as easily be European, Japanese, Chinese, or homegrown.”

“I’ll feel better when you’re done and the windows are in,” Stone said. “My guest and I are getting out of here Friday, and we’ll be gone until Monday morning, so we’ll be out of your way.”

“I’ll be all done when you get back,” Joe said. “I’ll brief you and your secretary on the system on Monday.”

“Good,” Stone said, then went back to his office. His cell phone buzzed, and he checked it. A text from Helga: We are departing on time, ETA Teterboro 6 PM local. Marcel’s lawyers will give me a lift into NYC. I have your address. Expect me in time for dinner and hungry.

He texted back: Received, understood and looking forward.

• • •

In the late afternoon Marcel returned from his meeting.

“I think we’ll dine at home this evening,” Stone said to him. “Helga will be in around seven.”

“I’ll have a nap, then,” Marcel said. “Wake me in time for drinks.”

Stone went back to work.

• • •

It was nearly seven-thirty when Philip answered the door. Stone was right there and Helga rushed into his arms. A heavily laden driver was right behind her, and Stone asked Philip to put everything on the elevator and take it to the master suite.

“I expect you’d like a bath,” Stone said, “but you don’t look as though you need one.”

“I had a shower on the airplane,” Helga said, “and it was very comfortable, so I’m well rested. I’m also starved and dying for a drink.”

Stone took her to his study and rang Marcel to join them.

“You have a very handsome house,” Helga said. “I’m impressed.”

“I hope you’ll be very comfortable here,” Stone replied.

Marcel walked into the study and embraced Helga. “I was worried about you,” he said.

“Well, now we are both out of Europe and entirely safe.”

Stone sat them down, poured a martini for Helga and a Knob Creek for himself and Marcel. “Welcome to New York,” he said, and they raised their glasses.

“This is my first trip to New York,” Helga said, “and I’m so excited.”

“I will be sure to show you the city,” Stone said, “but I have to tell you that none of us may be as safe here as you had hoped. Majorov is already in the city.”

Helga seemed unfazed. “Then I will be armed and glad to see him,” she said.

Marcel burst out laughing. “Then I will be very well protected!”

“Helga,” Stone said, “I’m afraid that you can’t go packing in New York City. There are very strict laws against that. You must have a permit, and they are nearly impossible to obtain.”

Helga dug into her handbag. “Oh, do you mean this?” she said, handing him a New York City carry permit.

“How the hell did you get this?” Stone demanded. “Is it a forgery? Because if it is . . .”

“Calm yourself, Stone,” Helga said. “It’s from Lance. The helicopter pilot handed it to me when he arrived at my house this morning. And my passport has a diplomatic visa stamped inside.”

“Then Marcel is very well protected indeed,” Stone said.

Philip came into the room. “Dinner is served in the kitchen,” he announced, and they followed him downstairs.