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Back Dishonorable Intentions Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. Cover
  2. Books by Stuart Woods
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. Author’s Note
  65. About the Author

“Give me one more day, if you can.”

“All right. How do you want to handle this?”

“I will place myself entirely in your hands, Billy. What would you like me to do?”

“I’d like you to have dinner and go to bed,” Billy replied.

“Without you?”

“I may be feeling a bit dyspeptic this evening.”

“Tell you what, why don’t we send Gala over to her sister’s for dinner tonight, then you and I can sort of hang around here.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Billy said. “Why don’t you both go over to the Eagle place and have dinner? I think it would be much better if you were not here this evening—and could prove it.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Gala said.

“Gala,” Stone replied, “I’d be grateful if you would remember that you’re not hearing anything at all.”

“Suddenly, I’m deaf?”

“Perhaps you’d like to be in another room while Billy and I have this discussion.”

“I think I’m going to go and have a long soak in a hot tub.”

“What a good idea,” Stone said.

After breakfast, Stone drove out to the airport, asked which hangar his airplane was in, then drove to it. He unlocked the forward luggage compartment, removed a small leather case, and tossed it into the car.

Back at Gala’s house, he went to the study, unlocked the little case and removed a startlingly small .45 pistol, reduced from 39 ounces to 21 by its maker, Terry Tussey. He threaded the holster and a magazine case onto his belt, shoved another magazine into the pistol, and holstered it. He reflected that he should have felt safer, but he didn’t.

55

Boris Tirov was back on his set on time that morning, and he made a special effort to be affable with everyone and charming to the more important members of the cast and crew. He settled into his on-set chair a few minutes before shooting and called his L.A. attorney.

“Good morning, Boris,” the man said, sounding weary.

“Good morning, Kim. I’d like you to file a lawsuit today.”

“Who are we suing this time?”

“A newspaper called the Santa Fe New Mexican, a reporter named Christy Mayson and her editor, whoever that is.”

“And what are we suing for?”

“Libel.”

“Boris, I’ve explained American law on this subject to you more than once. We will have to prove actual malice to win. Are you personally acquainted with this reporter?”

“Yes, I met her yesterday when she came to the set to interview me.”

“Do you have a sexual relationship with her?”

“No, but that’s not a bad idea.”

“And I assume that you don’t know her editor, since you can’t come up with his name.”

“That’s correct.”