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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

“Then I don’t have to dress?”

“You may wear as little as you like.”

“Well, no, not if someone is serving us.”

“A dressing gown will do.”

“I think that’s called ‘slipping into something more comfortable.’”

“I believe so.”

“What time are we departing tomorrow?”

“We taxi at eight AM sharp, which means we’ll have to leave the house at six-thirty, to allow for rush-hour traffic between here and Teterboro. Breakfast at five?”

“If you can wake me.”

“I’ll find a way.”

11

Fred drove them to Teterboro the following morning in the Bentley, and they used the back entrance to the Strategic Services hangar to avoid walking to the airplane through Jet Aviation.

The crew welcomed them and took their luggage, and shortly, Mike and Viv were aboard, along with some other Strategic employees. A tractor towed the big business jet out of the hangar and onto the ramp, and the crew, having already run through their initial checklists, immediately started the engines. Moments later they were taxiing.

Mike came and sat down next to Stone. “You were right about having a tail. Two large Russian gentlemen. My people discouraged them, and they have no idea that you’re on this aircraft.”

“Thank you, Mike, that’s a relief.”

“The crew has requested an expedited departure. There’s not a lot of traffic this morning, so we’ll be wheels-up shortly.” As he spoke the airplane made a turn and began its takeoff roll; a moment later the nose lifted, and they heard the sound of the landing gear coming up.

“We’re off,” Stone said to Gala.

“What a relief!”

“He won’t know we’re on this airplane, so he won’t know where we’re going.”

“Wonderful. I think he’s been tracking me with my cell phone, so I went to the Apple store yesterday and had the number changed. Only a few people have the new number.”

“Good move.”

Half an hour later they were at flight level 510—fifty thousand feet—and headed toward the Atlantic. As they leveled off, the captain turned off the seat belt sign, and Mike excused himself. “Gotta go to work,” he said. “We’re having a planning meeting for the opening of the Rome Arrington.”