“Well, that’s what insurance is for,” Stone said.
“Don’t worry about it; I’ve found you something of ours to drive until you buy something new.”
“Thanks, Mike. What happened to the guys in the gray van?”
“They rolled it half a mile behind where you hit the Harley. Cuts and bruises. The four of them are in a special part of the Danbury Federal Prison, where Lance’s people are questioning them. Turns out they’re four guys from Waterbury who are partners in a car-painting business, all radical Muslims from a storefront mosque. One of them has a history of raising money for some sort of charity that sounds like a front.”
“How did the guy on the Harley do?”
“The rider is banged up a bit, but the Harley is history. It blew a front tire and threw him off; nothing to do with your being behind him. How are you feeling?”
“Sore and stiff, but okay. The bourbon hit the spot. I finished it last night.”
Mike dropped him at his house and held out a car key. “There’s something armored in the garage. Drive it for as long as you like.”
Stone looked at the key. It said Bentley. He dug into the plastic bag and found the remote control, opened the garage door. There was a shiny green Bentley Flying Spur inside. A promotion!
Joan came into the garage and hugged him. “I’m so glad you are all right. When I heard about it I thought I was out of a job.”
“Gee, thanks,” Stone said.
“Just to cheer you up, Herbie is waiting for you.”
“Swell,” Stone said. He walked into his office and found Herbie asleep on the sofa.
Herbie stirred and raised his head. “Hey, Stone.”
“Hello, Herbie.”
“I hear you spread your car around half of Connecticut.”
“Close.”
Herbie sat up. “I wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For getting my money out of Jack’s business.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It’s a mess all over again.”
“What’s a mess?”
“The Gunn company. TV says they got away with nearly two billion.”
“Herbie, start at the beginning.”
“Stephanie and David. She came home from the office yesterday and told me to pack a bag and come with her. I did, and we drove out to Teterboro, where there was a Boeing Business Jet waiting. David and his girl were there, too.”
“Go on.”
“Stephanie said we were going to the South Pacific, to Attola. I asked her when we were coming back, and she said we weren’t, unless I wanted to live in a federal prison.”
“And why are you still here?”
“I told her she didn’t tell me we were leaving the country, so I didn’t bring my passport. And you know what she did?”