Strategic Moves (Stone Barrington 19)

“I did not hit it,” Pablo said. “In fact, I misjudged the distance to the shore when I departed the aircraft. I had thought the car would land in the sea, and that I would continue drifting toward the land. The wind was from the east.”

“How did you know that?” Dino asked.

“There was an indicator of wind direction and strength on the pilot’s primary flight display,” Pablo said. “I saw that on a remote unit in the trailer, on the moving map, as we were descending through ten thousand feet. However, I believe the wind strength decreased at lower altitudes. Still, I made it to dry land. Unfortunately, so did the car. I was greatly relieved to hear that it did not harm anyone.”

They ordered drinks and dinner.

“I have not been in this restaurant for many years,” Pablo said. “In fact, I had dinner here with my attorney the night before the last day of my trial.”

Elaine wandered over and sat down, and Stone introduced her to Pablo.

“I know you,” she said. “You used to come in here a couple of times a month, long time ago. Gelbhardt, right?”

“Elaine,” Pablo said, “I have an excellent memory, but you astonish me.”

“L

arry Gelbhardt, the writer, was in here a lot at the time, so your name was easy to remember. Pablo, huh? I like that.”

“It’s a nickname I picked up during many years of living in Spain.”

“What brings you back to New York?” she asked.

Stone interrupted. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Whatever,” Elaine replied, then she got up and joined another table.

They had a leisurely dinner, then Elaine bought them an after-dinner drink.

“Dino,” Stone said, “we need your help.”

“Okay,” Dino replied.

“Pablo needs a ride home, but I don’t want him to be followed.”

“I’ve got a good driver right now,” Dino said. “How you want to work this?”

Stone told him, then they finished their drinks, and Stone signed for dinner.

Dino led the way out of the restaurant and got into the rear seat of his car, then slid across to the other side, leaving the door open. Stone, in the meantime, hailed a cab, which drew up behind Dino’s car. Stone got into the cab, then Pablo jumped into Dino’s rear seat and slammed the door. The car moved out.

“Stay close behind the car ahead,” Stone said.

“That a cop car?”

“It is.” He explained what he wanted the cabdriver to do.

At the next corner, Eighty-seventh Street, Dino’s car turned right and accelerated. Stone’s cab pulled into the intersection and stopped, blocking traffic that wanted to turn right.

There was a cacophony of car horns behind them, and a black SUV with darkened windows pulled alongside the cab, paused, then took off down Second Avenue, unfortunately getting caught at the next light.

Stone gave the driver his address and told him to continue downtown at his own pace. When they reached his house, he added a twenty-dollar tip to the fare, then got out of the cab.

As the taxi drove away the black SUV pulled up to where Stone stood, and the front-seat passenger window slid down. Todd Bacon sat in the car.

“That was cute,” he said.

“Following my client around wasn’t part of the deal,” Stone said. “Tell Lance that if he does that again, Pablo will develop severe memory loss.”