Strategic Moves (Stone Barrington 19)

“Did you sleep well?”

“Probably not as well as I would have if I had chosen the other option,” she said.

“I’ll give you another chance, if you’ll promise not to hound Herbie Fisher to an early grave.”

“Be specific.”

“If you can get off a little early today, I’ll pick you up at two o’clock and bring you back on Sunday afternoon.”

“And our destination?”

“That will remain a mystery, but rest assured, it will be a comfortable one.”

“All right, two o’clock. Shall I meet you downstairs?”

“Perfect. Bring warm clothes.” He hung up and buzzed Joan.

“Yes, my lord and master?”

“Will you call Seth Hotchkiss and ask him to meet two of us at the airfield around four-thirty this afternoon, and that we would appreciate dinner around seven-thirty?”

“Yes, Sahib.”

“Are you wearing a turban?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Never mind.” Stone hung up.

As they were waiting to be cleared for takeoff that afternoon, it occurred to Stone that the last time he had taken a woman to Maine, she had ended up dead. A moment’s thought allowed him to rationalize away that possibility.

“What are we waiting for?” Willa asked from the copilot’s seat.

“For release by the tower,” Stone replied.

The tower came onto the radio frequency. “November one, two, three Tango Foxtrot, cleared for takeoff. Climb to six thousand feet on runway heading, expect direct Carmel.”

That amounted to a good break over the routine departure. “Tango Foxtrot, six thousand, runway heading, rolling.” He lined the airplane up on the runway, pressed a button to center the heading, then pressed the autopilot heading button, switched on the pitot heat, and pressed the switch that brought up the command bars to follow after takeoff. He moved the throttles to takeoff power, let the engines spool up, the

n released the brakes.

“Wow,” Willa said. “It accelerates!”

Stone rotated, got the gear and flaps up, and at seven hundred feet engaged the autopilot and removed his hands from the yoke. “Yes, it does,” he said.

“November one, two, three Tango Foxtrot, contact departure,” the tower said.

Stone switched to the departure frequency and checked in, then was given direct Carmel and eleven thousand feet. Ten minutes later he was given direct destination and his final altitude, flight level 250.

“It’s so smooth,” Willa said.

“Welcome to jet travel.”

“Airliners aren’t this smooth.”

“They are when they have smooth conditions, as we do today.”

“What a great way to travel,” she said. “Where the hell are we going?”