Unintended Consequences - By Stuart Woods

41





Stone was struck by how quiet the house was. Traffic was roaring away on Second and Third avenues, and he could hear none of it. He figured out how to unlock a window, opened it, and the noise came rushing in. He felt a pane on both sides and reckoned that the glass was at least half an inch thick. He closed the window, locked it, and the noise vanished.

Helga unpacked her clothes and put her laundry in the chute for Helene to deal with. “Time for shopping,” she said. “Where do I shop?”

“The best shopping mall in the world is Madison Avenue between Fifty-seventh and Seventy-second streets,” Stone said, “from Bergdorf Goodman to Ralph Lauren, but you’ll have to wait for Marcel to finish with the car. He has another meeting about the auto show, and late this afternoon we’re scheduled to go over the contracts on our deal and, possibly, sign them. You can have the car and the guards from the time Marcel gets back until we leave for the meeting, say, four hours.”

“I can do much damage in four hours,” Helga said, “but why can’t I take a taxi?”

“Because people are trying to kill you.”

“Oh, that.”

“The Bentley will repel small-arms fire—you will be safe inside it.”

Helga sighed. “I was better off on a remote Swedish island.”

“How was the shopping there?”

“Oh, all right!”

Joan buzzed Stone. “Yes?”

“Joe is here to tell us how to operate the new security system.”

“I’ll be right down.” He found Joan and Joe in her office, staring at the computer screen.

“Okay, everything is right here,” Joe said. “You can operate the system from any computer in the house, including an iPhone or iPad. Each part of the system is shown on screen. You can choose which parts to turn on, like the doors or windows as a group, or one at a time if you like, or you can click on the ‘arm’ button, which turns on everything, and you have sixty seconds to get out of the house. The code is the one you gave me, and the false alarm code is the reverse of that number. Simple enough for you?”

“I got it,” Stone said.

“Me, too,” Joan echoed.

“I’d like to point out something,” Joe said. “The windows are terrific, but they’re useless unless they’re locked. Please remember that.”

“I’ll remember,” Stone said.

“So will I,” Joan replied.

“Okay, folks, my work here is done. Your old doors are in the cellar. They’re beautiful, so if you ever want to sell them, here’s my number.” He handed Joan his card. “Enjoy the peace and safety of your new system.” He shook their hands and left.

“Why isn’t everything in this house that easy?” Joan asked.

“Because nothing else was installed by the CIA,” Stone explained. “The price was right, too.”

Joan’s outside bell rang, and she used the intercom. “The people are here to transport the Blaise to the auto show,” she said.

“Be sure to get a receipt,” Stone reminded her.

The phone rang, and Joan got it. “It’s Lance Cabot, for you,” she said.

While Joan dealt with the car transporter, Stone went into his office and picked up the phone. “Good morning, Lance.”

“Good morning, Stone. How do you like your new security arrangements?”

“They are superb,” Stone said, “thank you very much.”

“I understand you had a bit of bother in Connecticut,” Lance said.

“How did you know about that?”

“We have people who are in touch with the state police up there, along with a lot of other police departments. I’m beginning to think we should do something about the security arrangements in your house in Washington.”

“Please don’t bother. My builder is dealing with the fire damage, but it’s mostly just shingle replacements.”

“Perhaps when you have guests who are the subjects of attempts on their lives you should take them to your home in Maine, where the security is built into the house, and Penobscot Bay surrounds you.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Stone said.

“I’ve asked Holly to have her people take over the current protection of your New York house,” Lance said.

“The last time you did that, you lost two men,” Stone reminded him.

“That was a measure of the threat,” Lance said. “I do not anticipate anything like that in these circumstances. After all, we’re dealing with criminals, not political zealots.”

“I very much hope you’re right,” Stone said. “Thank you for the extra security, Lance.”

“You are very welcome. They are outside your house now, watching your beautiful new car being hauled away. I’ve heard so much about the Blaise—you must let me drive it the next time I’m in New York.”

“Maybe,” Stone said.

“Goodbye, Stone.” Lance hung up.

Stone hung up and sent an e-mail to Holly. Thank you for your help. I hope you are well and happy.

A few minutes later, he got a reply. I’m well, thank you. Watch your ass.

She’s well, he reflected, but she didn’t mention happy.