Lucid Intervals (Stone Barrington 18)

“A few hundred dollars and some pounds and euros.”

“I want you to do exactly as I say,” he said.

“Well, maybe. What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to leave your building without being seen, find a cab and go directly to my house. Make sure you’re not being followed. You can’t trust your own people, so be careful.”

“Why do you think I will be safe at your house?”

“You probably won’t be for long. I want you to pack a bag and leave the house by the rear door. Walk across the common garden; you’ll find a corner exit to the street, one block over. Take a cab to Teterboro, to Jet Aviation, and take a seat in the pilot’s lounge, not the passenger lounge. I’ll have a man named Dan Phelan meet you there and bring you to me.”

“Bring me where?”

“To the place we went where you worried about landing.”

“All right.”

“Are you armed?”

“I can be.”

“Good. Also, go into my dressing room and find my safe, behind a picture.” He gave her the combination. “Bring me the little.45, an extra magazine and a box of cartridges.”

“All right.”

“Any questions?”

“How long will we be there?”

“Not long, I hope.”

“I’m on my way,” she said. She hung up and buzzed her secretary. “Send Smith back in,” she said.

Smith returned and took his seat. She spent ten minutes going through the remainder of the files and then sent him back to his own office with a task to perform. As soon as the door closed she got her coat, took a pistol from her desk drawer, put it into her handbag and left her office by a rear door that opened into a stairway. Moments later, she was in a cab, looking over her shoulder.

STONE LOOKED FOR Dan Phelan’s number in his cell phone and then dialed it.

“Phelan.”

“Dan, it’s Stone Barrington. Where are you?”

“Hi, Stone. I’m at Teterboro. I just finished with a student.”

“I have a serious emergency, and there’s something I hope you can do for me.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you flown a JetProp?”

“A couple of times.”

“There’s a woman on her way to Jet Aviation now. Her name is Felicity Devonshire. She’s a tall redhead. Wait for her in the pilot’s lounge. While you’re waiting, file a flight plan for a little airport in Maine called Islesboro, identifier five-seven-bravo.”

“Yes.”

“The desk at Jet Aviation has a key. I’ll tell them to give it to you. While you’re waiting for Felicity, see that it’s refueled. Call me just before you start your engine. You have my cell number?”

“Yes.”