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Back Below the Belt Save as PDF
Chapters (67)
  1. Cover
  2. BOOKS BY STUART WOODS
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  66. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  67. What’s next onyour reading list?

“That was a great evening,” Stone replied.

“Stone,” Sue said, “are you right- or left-handed?”

“I’m right-handed,” Stone replied.

She reached behind her chair and brought out a thick briefcase, then got up, walked around Stone, and snapped a handcuff shut on his left wrist.

Stone had never been handcuffed to anything before, and he was uncomfortable with it.

“Don’t worry,” Sue said, “Will has the key.”

“David, can you stay for a drink?” Joe asked.

It took Stone a moment to realize that he was being addressed.

“I’m afraid I have a date with Will,” Stone said, “and if he has the key to the handcuff, I don’t want to be late.” He stood up and shook hands with both of them.

“You take care of yourself, Tom,” Joe called as Stone was escorted out by the agent. Stone gave a little wave and followed the man to his car. It cost him some effort to get the case into the car next to his left leg, but he discovered the chain was long enough to allow him to use his left hand on the wheel. He started the car, turned around, and retraced his route to the main road, then turned right and started the descent to Santa Fe.

He had gone perhaps three miles when suddenly a flying boulder appeared in his path and bounced across the road. Before he could recover from that, his car ran into a field of smaller rocks in his way, and he heard two loud noises and felt heavy jolts. The car came to a stop, and Stone got out.

There was still patchy snow at this elevation, and the moon was reflected off it enough to allow him to see that two of his tires had been destroyed, and the front rim was bent. He got the keys out of the car and opened the trunk. One spare.

Stone got out his iPhone and switched it on: no service, and his battery was low. He considered his options. He could wait around for a car that might not arrive before dawn; he could walk back up the steep road to the Adams house, but he didn’t relish carrying the heavy case that far; or he could walk downhill several miles to Santa Fe. It was cold up here, and he chose to wait in the car for someone to pass. He had three-quarters of a tank of fuel, so he started the car and turned up the temperature. He switched on the satellite radio, found some jazz, and made himself as comfortable as he could. Warmth flooded into the car. He checked the time: 10:35 PM. He switched on the emergency flashers, then he nodded and dozed.

—

HE WAS AWAKENED by the slamming of a vehicle door and a man rapping on the passenger window. “Hello?”