Back Dirty Work
Chapters (62)
  1. 1
  2. 2
  3. 3
  4. 4
  5. 5
  6. 6
  7. 7
  8. 8
  9. 9
  10. 10
  11. 11
  12. 12
  13. 13
  14. 14
  15. 15
  16. 16
  17. 17
  18. 18
  19. 19
  20. 20
  21. 21
  22. 22
  23. 23
  24. 24
  25. 25
  26. 26
  27. 27
  28. 28
  29. 29
  30. 30
  31. 31
  32. 32
  33. 33
  34. 34
  35. 35
  36. 36
  37. 37
  38. 38
  39. 39
  40. 40
  41. 41
  42. 42
  43. 43
  44. 44
  45. 45
  46. 46
  47. 47
  48. 48
  49. 49
  50. 50
  51. 51
  52. 52
  53. 53
  54. 54
  55. 55
  56. 56
  57. 57
  58. 58
  59. 59
  60. 60
  61. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  62. AUTHOR’S NOTE

He followed her instructions, resisting the urge to look behind him. There was no one there anyway, unless La Biche had accomplices.

Stone’s cell phone went off. “Hello?”

“It’s Cantor. The Brit is crossing Sixth and heading downtown. None of my guys have been able to spot a tail yet. He may be clean.”

“Good,” Stone said, then closed his phone.

Sir Edward had walked for nearly eight blocks with no further word. He did not enjoy walking, especially in New York; he preferred his car and driver. His cell phone vibrated. “Yes?”

“Cross Forty-second Street, then turn left into Bryant Park, behind the New York Public Library. Ten paces into the park, stop and wait for another call.” She cut the connection.

“She’s directed me into the park behind the library,” Sir Edward said to the air around him.

“I can’t believe we’re that lucky,” Carpenter replied, “unless it’s not the final meeting place.”

“She told me to stop when I get into the park. Do you think she’ll fire?”

“I don’t believe she will. Now listen, when she’s clear, your signal to fire is to take off your hat, smooth your hair, and put your hat back on.”

“I believe I remember that,” Sir Edward replied. “Just be sure your man doesn’t miss.”

“His weapon mount is gyro-stabilized,” she replied. “The copter’s movement won’t muss his aim.” She glanced at Mason, who was standing beside her wearing a harness that held him in the helicopter and a baseball cap backwards. She thought he looked ridiculous.

“I hope to God you’re right.” Sir Edward crossed Forty-second Street, walked another few yards, then turned into Bryant Park. He counted off ten paces and stopped. His cell phone vibrated. “Yes?”

“Very good, Sir Edward. Do you see the line of park benches to your right? The ones in the center of the park?”

“Yes.”

“Go and sit on the fourth bench, at the end closest to Sixth Avenue.”

Sir Edward looked at the benches: They were strung out in a line with a few feet between them. He counted, then went and sat on the bench as he had been instructed. He looked around.

“What’s happening?” Carpenter asked.

“She told me to sit on this bench.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“Then let’s wait for something to happen.”

“I don’t see any alternative,” Sir Edward said, “unless she’s drawing a bead on me now.” Someone sat down beside him on the bench.

“Who is that? The man in the hat?” Carpenter asked.

“Good afternoon, Sir Edward,” the man said.

“Barrington? What are you doing here? The meeting was to have been with Miss du Bois.”

“Stone Barrington is there?” Carpenter asked.

“Yes,” Sir Edward replied.

“Yes, what?” Stone asked.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sir Edward said.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Ah, myself. Where is Ms. du Bois?”