“There, it’s done,” he heard Gino say.
“Done is correct,” Beria replied, then a single gunshot rang out, and the woman screamed.
Stone ran flat-out for the kitchen, and as he did, there was a second gunshot. He found the service elevator and pressed the button. The lights on the panel told him the car was on the ground floor. It began to rise, too slowly to suit Stone. He pressed the button again, hoping to hurry it, then he heard the footsteps of two men walking from the study back into the living room. He saw them go to the coffee table, and that meant that if they turned, they could see him, and there was nowhere to hide.
The elevator still had fifteen floors to go.
33
Stone stared at the floor numbers of the elevator as they slowly changed.
* * *
—
“LET’S GET OUT of here,” Beria said to his companion.
“Better see if there’s a back way,” the man replied.
* * *
—
THE ELEVATOR DOOR opened; Stone stepped into the car and began looking for the correct number. Finally, he found G and pressed it, then slipped on his shoes and tucked the gun into his waistband. The door slid silently shut, but the car did not move.
Stone was about to reach for the button again, but the door slid open and two men stood there. Beria was maybe six feet and 190 pounds; the other man was taller and a gorilla by any measure, maybe three hundred pounds. They stared at Stone.
“Good morning,” Stone said, backing up until he was leaning against the rear wall. “Going down?”
“Thank you, yes,” Beria said, stepping onto the elevator, followed by the gorilla. The door slid shut again, and after another pause the car started down.
Beria, who was leaning against the wall on Stone’s left, said, “You live upstairs?”
“No, just visiting,” Stone replied. The elevator seemed to inch down.
“Quite a building, eh?” Beria asked.
“Spectacular views,” Stone replied.
“Who lives upstairs?” Beria asked.
“A woman of my acquaintance,” Stone replied.
“And her husband?” Beria asked slyly.
“I’m afraid so. Fortunately, he’s out of town.”
Beria gave a short laugh, and the elevator stopped. The door slid open, and the two men got off. “Be careful,” Beria said.
“Don’t worry,” Stone said, following them out of the elevator, but more slowly, hoping to put more distance between them.
The two went through the outside door and turned right, toward Park Avenue. Stone turned left, got out his phone and called Fred, who was waiting on Park.
“Yessir?” Fred said.
“Meet me on the corner of Fifty-ninth and Lex.”
“Yessir.”
Stone put away the phone and continued walking. As he did, a black S-Class Mercedes drove past him, and Beria waved from the rear seat. As Stone approached Lexington Avenue, the light changed and the Mercedes stopped. The rear window slid down, and Beria said, “Can I give you a lift somewhere?”
“Thank you, but my car is just around the corner,” Stone replied with a little smile. He turned left, just as Fred drew up. The light changed, the Mercedes turned right and drove down Lex. Stone got into the Bentley. “Fred,” Stone said, “follow the Mercedes, but keep well back.”
“Which Mercedes, sir?”
“The black S-Class.”
“Which black S-Class?” Fred asked.
Stone looked ahead of them and saw two Black Mercedeses driving a block down Lex ahead of them.
“Shit,” Stone muttered.
“Let me know when you decide,” Fred said
“Do you know which one entered Lex from the direction I came?”
“I’m not sure,” Fred replied.
“Be sure to keep up with the changing lights,” Stone said. “We don’t want to get stuck. If we get a red light, run it.”
“As you wish, sir.”
As Stone watched, the Mercedes in the left lane turned left on East Forty-ninth Street, and the other continued straight ahead. “Follow the one that turned,” Stone said, taking a flier.
“Yessir.”
The Mercedes continued east, stopping for a couple of lights, then, as it approached First Avenue, it pulled over and stopped.
“Stop,” Stone said.
Fred pulled over. “The car has diplomatic plates,” he said.
From half a block back, Stone watched as Beria and the gorilla got out of the Mercedes and went up the front stairs into a building. The Mercedes drove away.
“Continue,” Stone said, “but I want to see what that building is, so go very slowly.”
As they passed the building Stone saw two brass plaques, one on each side of the large doors. The one on the left was unintelligible to him, since it was in the Cyrillic alphabet; the other, in English, read: PERMANENT MISSION OF THE RUSSIAN FEDERATION TO THE UNITED NATIONS.
“Okay,” Stone said, “home.” He waited until he was at his desk before he called Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“It’s Stone.”
“I figured.”
“How did you figure?”
“I don’t know. I get a creepy feeling sometimes when the phone rings, which means it’s you.”
“I want to report a double murder.”
“Then call the police,” Dino said.
“Has the mayor fired you?”
“Not yet.”
“Then you are the police.”
“Yeah, but all I’m going to do is call Homicide and tell them to get on it, so why don’t you just call nine-one-one?”
“Because I don’t want to have to explain why I was where the murders took place.”
“You’re going to have to explain that to me,” Dino pointed out.
“I have no problem with that. You’re taking the call, then?”
“Yeah, okay, let me get a pencil.”
Stone heard drawers opening and closing, then Dino came back on the line.
“Okay, go.”
Stone gave him the address and floor number of the building.
“Okay, who got offed?”
“A man named Gino Bellini and his wife, Veronica.”
“The guy who hired Dirty Joe?”
“That’s the one,” Stone replied. “Did I tell you that Dirty Joe and his girl are dead? They were shot while tracking us in Maine.”
“Yeah, you told me. That’s Maine’s problem,” Dino replied. “Who killed the Bellinis?”
“A man named Stanislav Beria and an unsub.”
“I know the name,” Dino said. “Beria is with the Russian UN mission.”
“Well, yes, I saw him go inside the mission, but he also works for Selwyn Owaki.”
“He can’t work for Owaki. Beria is a legitimate Russian diplomat,” Dino said. “I met him at a cocktail party at the Russian Embassy.”
“I don’t question that, but Gino Bellini told me he works for Owaki.”
“Was this before or after Bellini was murdered? We could use a witness.”
“Before, obviously, and I’m a witness to both murders.”
“You actually saw them happen?”
“Yes. Well, more correctly, I heard them happen, one shot, followed a moment later by another.”
“So you’re not a witness?”
“Beria and his gorilla were the only other people in the apartment, besides Bellini and his wife.”
“And you. You were in the apartment.”
“Yes, Dino, I was.”
“Were you in the room?”
“I was in the living room. Everybody else was in an adjoining study.”
“So you’re not a witness.”
“I heard the shots.”
“From the next room.”
“Dino, Beria, his gorilla, and I were the only people in the apartment still standing, and I didn’t kill them, so who’s left?”
“Why didn’t they kill you?”
“I was hiding behind a curtain, and while they were still in the study I made a run for the service elevator, in the kitchen.”
“Why didn’t you take the regular elevator?”
“Because I didn’t want to be seen by the front desk staff leaving the building.”
“Why? You say you didn’t kill them.”
“That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t think I did.”
“Go on.”
“Then I rode down on the elevator with Beria and the gorilla.”
“Let me get this straight. You heard two people shot in the next room, then you rode down on the elevator with the shooters?”
“I was in the kitchen, waiting for the service elevator to arrive on my floor. I got in, the door closed, then it opened again and Beria and the gorilla got in.”
“And they didn’t notice you?”
“They did. I pretended to be visiting a woman upstairs.”