D.C. Dead (Stone Barrington 22) - Page 4

“You’ll have Allison to talk to,” Stone said, referring to the Woodman & Weld associate who had been assigned to his office, “and that means you’ll have Herbie Fisher dropping by at every opportunity just because Allison is here.”

“I hear on the secretarial grapevine that Herbie is already making his mark at the firm,” Joan said, “working long hours, being smart. He’s got the other associates coming to him for answers.”

“Who knew that Herbie would turn out so well?” Stone said. “I personally thought he’d be dead or in prison by now.”

“Better haircuts and suits seemed to improve him,” Joan said, “and the lottery win didn’t hurt.”

“I hope he’s still got some of it,” Stone said.

The bell rang, and Joan went to let Dino in. She took his bags to the garage.

“Coffee before we blast off?” Stone asked.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Dino said, accepting a cup. “Has Holly called and told you what this is all about?”

Stone sat down and sipped his coffee.

“Nope. I’m as much in the dark as you are.”

“That used to be kind of exciting,” Dino said, “not knowing what’s going to happen.”

“You’re depressed,” Stone said.

“I am?” Dino said, looking surprised.

“About Ben going away to college.”

“Oh, that. Yeah. You too.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I have an idea,” Dino said. “Let’s go to Washington and find out what the hell this is all about. It might improve our dispositions.”

“Good idea,” Stone said, putting his coat on. “Let’s get out of here.”

THEY WERE AT TETERBORO AIRPORT in half an hour, and it took Stone another forty-five minutes to do a preflight inspection of his Citation Mustang, get a clearance to Manassas, and taxi to the runway. Shortly, they were cleared for takeoff. Stone shoved the throttles all the way forward, waited for ninety knots, then rotated. The little jet roared off the runway like a big bird. Stone contacted New York Departure, got a vector and a new altitude, and they were off.

Another three-quarters of an hour and they were settling onto the runway at Manassas. A lineman directed them to a parking spot, and someone drove a black SUV over to the airplane and parked it near the door.

“That must be our car,” Dino said.

“Who would give us a black SUV but the CIA?” Stone asked.

The lineman took their bags from the forward luggage compartment and stowed them in the rear of the vehicle, then Stone registered with the FBO (Fixed Base Operator) and gave them a credit card for refueling.

“I’ll drive,” Dino said. “I know the city better than you.”

“Nevertheless, I hope there’s a map in the car,” Stone said.

He got into the passenger seat, and Dino got behind the wheel. “I’m going to need the car key to open the glove box,” Stone said.

Dino handed him the keys, and Stone examined them carefully. There were just two: an ordinary car key and another that looked like something off the space shuttle. He inserted that key into the large, nonstandard lock on the glove box and opened it. Inside he found two holstered SIG Sauer P239 9mm pistols with an extra magazine for each, and a box of cartridges.

“Why do we need to be armed to go to the White House?” Stone said. “They’ll just take them away from us as soon as we get there.”

“Just leave them in the glove compartment,” Dino said. “Is there anything else in there?”

Stone removed a thick black envelope and pulled a tab that broke the seal. v we the sHe shook out the contents onto the glove box door and looked at the four plastic cards that came out.

Tags: Stuart Woods Stone Barrington Mystery
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