Unintended Consequences - By Stuart Woods

57





Stone shot the man whose gun he had taken, because he liked him the least, though he wasn’t very fond of the others, either. That left only Majorov and one other man, who was clawing at his clothing, trying in his nervous condition to come up with a weapon. Majorov just stared with an expression of mild surprise at the change in his fortunes.

Stone trained the pistol on the other man, who stopped groping himself and put his hands on top of his head.

Helga dropped the dead man she had been holding by the neck for cover, went to the surrendered man, and frisked him expertly, coming up with a .45 automatic, then she began striding toward Majorov.

“Now, Miss Becker,” Majorov said, backing away from her.

She raked his face with the barrel of the .45, then, when he leaned back against the Mercedes, kicked him in the knee.

Majorov fell to the concrete deck, yelling—no doubt swearing—in Russian. A gust of wind came up and scattered the papers that had been stacked on the hood of the Mercedes.

“Nicely done,” Stone said, starting to embrace her, but she was going over Majorov’s fallen form with care, tossing two guns and a knife onto the deck.

When she had finished, Stone gave her a hug and a kiss, but not before she had kicked Majorov in the ribs. She seemed to appreciate the affection but then became businesslike. “Now, we must decide how we must dispose of these two,” she said.

“Dispose?” Stone asked.

“If we let them be taken by the police, then there will be only a big mess, with lawyers and bail money, et cetera. I know these things, I have watched all the episodes of Law & Order, you see.”

“I see,” Stone said tonelessly.

Majorov’s henchman, hearing this conversation and seeing them momentarily distracted, made a dive for one of Majorov’s pistols.

Helga turned and shot him with his own gun. “Good,” she said, “now we have only to deal with Mr. Majorov.”

Majorov had struggled into a sitting position and was leaning against the Mercedes, clutching his knee, while blood dribbled from his broken nose and off his chin. “Really, now, Mr. Barrington. Surely you are too civilized a gentleman to listen to such ill-considered talk from this woman.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Stone said, “I think she’s making a lot of sense.”

“Let me offer a more businesslike alternative—two alternatives, actually.”

“Go on,” Stone said.

“Why don’t we just throw him off the building?” Helga asked. “We can say he ran, then fell.”

“That’s certainly a possibility,” Stone said, “but I want to hear what his idea of business is.”

“Very wise, Mr. Barrington,” Majorov said. “There is a piece of luggage in the trunk of my car containing two million dollars in cash. My travel expense money. Why don’t you take that—and the car, if you wish—and just go home? I’ll clean up here, and the police need never know about these events.”

Helga spoke up. “Why don’t we throw him off the building, then take the money and the car?”

“You see,” Stone said to Majorov, “she’s really thinking very clearly.”

“Yes, Mr. Barrington,” Majorov said, “and I admire her acuity. However, then you would still be left with elaborate explanations to the police, and some risk to yourselves.”

“He has a point,” Stone said to Helga. “Neither of us really needs the money, and I already have two cars, so why don’t we just hog-tie him and wait for Dino to figure out where we are. In fact,” he said, getting out his iPhone, “I can satisfy his curiosity right now.”

“Really, Mr. Barrington,” Majorov said, “there is no need for this pig-tying business. I have been crippled, you see, so I will not be fleeing. It is quite impossible in my condition.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” Stone said.

“And you didn’t listen to my second alternative,” Majorov said.

“You’re right, I didn’t.”

“The second alternative is to wait here for another minute or so, when this rooftop will be flooded with my associates, whom I have already asked to join me here. They will be heavily armed and not so inclined to be as businesslike as I.”

Stone had just pressed the speed-dial button for Dino when, with a roar, two unmarked NYPD police cars shot onto the roof from the ramp and spilled out Dino, Holly, Paddy, and Stanley, each waving a weapon.

“It looks like you didn’t need us,” Dino said, surveying the rooftop carnage and the cringing Majorov.

“Well, Dino,” Stone said, “if what Majorov has just told me is true, not only do we need you, but we may need reinforcements, as well.”

Then, from somewhere, came the beat of helicopter blades, and a large, evil-looking chopper rose from below the building’s parapet and turned sideways, revealing a wide-open door and several men inside, bristling with automatic weapons.