grave, then you get a leg up.”
“Actually, what I believe I said was, I’d tell you what you wanted to know when I was high in the saddle. Not before.”
Portia gestured for the man holding the mare to step forward, then turned to the guards.
“Undo the ankle and waist restraints, but keep the cuffs on his hands.” To Woods, she said, “Once you’re in the saddle, you give me what I want, then your wrist cuffs come off. You mess with me, you’re back off that horse faster than you can blink. Understand?”
“Agent Cahill, you insult me. We had a deal. You kept your end of the bargain, I will keep mine.” His eyes lit up as he watched the horse approach. “Ah, aren’t you a lovely thing. A bit long in the tooth, as they say, but lovely.”
He shuffled closer. “And I’ll bet you had some fire when you were younger, eh? Well, didn’t we all?”
The guard holding the key glanced at Portia and she nodded. With a wary look at Woods, he knelt down to unlock the ankle cuffs, but Woods barely noticed. He was still crooning to the horse.
“Help him up,” Portia told the man holding the reins.
“No, no, I don’t need any help.” In one surprisingly smooth movement, Woods had leaped to grab the pommel and swung himself into the saddle. He closed his eyes and smiled as he put his feet in the stirrups. “My, but it’s been a long time. But as they say, some things you never forget.”
He addressed the groom, asking, “What’s her name?”
“Molly Blue” was the response.
“Nice. Well, Molly Blue, let’s take us a little…”
“Woods.” Portia made no effort to disguise her impatience.
“Oh, right. Sorry. I forgot.” Woods smiled down at her. “You wanted some directions.”
She took a small recorder from her pocket.
“Go ’head,” she told him.
He leaned forward to pat the horse’s neck. “From here, you want to head north…”
He rattled off a series of highways and back roads leading increasingly close to the Pennsylvania border.
“Once you get to Oldbridge,” he continued, “you want to head out of town past a large red barn. I don’t recall the name of the road, but you can’t miss the barn. About a mile farther down the road, you’ll look to your left, and you’ll see a hill with a tall straight tower rising up from its crest. There will be a road that intersects there. Take a left and follow it until you get to the dirt road that leads up to the tower.”
“What kind of tower?” Portia frowned. “Like a cell phone tower?”
“No, no, it’s some kind of monument. Stone. It’s the highest point around.” Woods fixes her with a withering stare. “If you can’t find it, you’re not much of an investigator.”
“Okay, so we see the hill and the monument…” She ignored the jab.
“It’s maybe a quarter mile down the road after you make the turn,” he told her.
“Then what?”
“Then you stop the car at the top of the hill and get out.”
“Don’t try my patience, Woods, it’s hot in here and it’s going to be a long day digging in the heat.”
“Hey, your choice.”
“Get. On. With. It.”
“Okay, so you’re at the top of the hill—there’s an old cemetery there, did I mention that? Pre-Revolutionary War, I think, judging by the dates on some of the headstones.”
Portia gestured with her hand for him to continue. She was rapidly running out of patience.
“There’s a cluster of pine trees off to the left, and a sort of rock pile behind the trees. Again, you can’t miss it. You’ll find what you’re after right in front of the rocks, between the tallest two trees—they sit about twelve feet apart, or did, last time I was there.” He nodded to her, then turned back to the groom, who still maintained a hold on the mare. “I’d like my ride now.”
“Woods.” She called to him as he edged into the ring on the horse, walking it as if trying to get a feel for it. “Woods. I’m talking to you.”
He threw a glance over his
“Actually, what I believe I said was, I’d tell you what you wanted to know when I was high in the saddle. Not before.”
Portia gestured for the man holding the mare to step forward, then turned to the guards.
“Undo the ankle and waist restraints, but keep the cuffs on his hands.” To Woods, she said, “Once you’re in the saddle, you give me what I want, then your wrist cuffs come off. You mess with me, you’re back off that horse faster than you can blink. Understand?”
“Agent Cahill, you insult me. We had a deal. You kept your end of the bargain, I will keep mine.” His eyes lit up as he watched the horse approach. “Ah, aren’t you a lovely thing. A bit long in the tooth, as they say, but lovely.”
He shuffled closer. “And I’ll bet you had some fire when you were younger, eh? Well, didn’t we all?”
The guard holding the key glanced at Portia and she nodded. With a wary look at Woods, he knelt down to unlock the ankle cuffs, but Woods barely noticed. He was still crooning to the horse.
“Help him up,” Portia told the man holding the reins.
“No, no, I don’t need any help.” In one surprisingly smooth movement, Woods had leaped to grab the pommel and swung himself into the saddle. He closed his eyes and smiled as he put his feet in the stirrups. “My, but it’s been a long time. But as they say, some things you never forget.”
He addressed the groom, asking, “What’s her name?”
“Molly Blue” was the response.
“Nice. Well, Molly Blue, let’s take us a little…”
“Woods.” Portia made no effort to disguise her impatience.
“Oh, right. Sorry. I forgot.” Woods smiled down at her. “You wanted some directions.”
She took a small recorder from her pocket.
“Go ’head,” she told him.
He leaned forward to pat the horse’s neck. “From here, you want to head north…”
He rattled off a series of highways and back roads leading increasingly close to the Pennsylvania border.
“Once you get to Oldbridge,” he continued, “you want to head out of town past a large red barn. I don’t recall the name of the road, but you can’t miss the barn. About a mile farther down the road, you’ll look to your left, and you’ll see a hill with a tall straight tower rising up from its crest. There will be a road that intersects there. Take a left and follow it until you get to the dirt road that leads up to the tower.”
“What kind of tower?” Portia frowned. “Like a cell phone tower?”
“No, no, it’s some kind of monument. Stone. It’s the highest point around.” Woods fixes her with a withering stare. “If you can’t find it, you’re not much of an investigator.”
“Okay, so we see the hill and the monument…” She ignored the jab.
“It’s maybe a quarter mile down the road after you make the turn,” he told her.
“Then what?”
“Then you stop the car at the top of the hill and get out.”
“Don’t try my patience, Woods, it’s hot in here and it’s going to be a long day digging in the heat.”
“Hey, your choice.”
“Get. On. With. It.”
“Okay, so you’re at the top of the hill—there’s an old cemetery there, did I mention that? Pre-Revolutionary War, I think, judging by the dates on some of the headstones.”
Portia gestured with her hand for him to continue. She was rapidly running out of patience.
“There’s a cluster of pine trees off to the left, and a sort of rock pile behind the trees. Again, you can’t miss it. You’ll find what you’re after right in front of the rocks, between the tallest two trees—they sit about twelve feet apart, or did, last time I was there.” He nodded to her, then turned back to the groom, who still maintained a hold on the mare. “I’d like my ride now.”
“Woods.” She called to him as he edged into the ring on the horse, walking it as if trying to get a feel for it. “Woods. I’m talking to you.”
He threw a glance over his
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