Read Online The Stone Barrington Collection vol 2 by Stuart Woods - Free Book Online
Authors: Stuart Woods
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Prison, until the Agency got some backdoor information from a former source that seemed to clear him.
“He was also the source of a tip that put somebody we were looking for in a cottage on North Islesboro. That, apparently, tipped the balance, and the top echelon at Langley, including Kate Rule, recommended a presidential pardon. He also got a million-dollar reward and repaired to his ancestral home in Dark Harbor to amuse himself as best he could and await death. That’s about it.”
“Is he somebody I can trust?”
“Trust to what?”
“Tell me the truth.”
“Probably, especially if it’s in his interest to do so. Why do you ask?”
“Rawls told me he thinks Dick’s death was work related.”
A brief silence. “Did he give you any details?”
“He said he had some feelers out, and I’d have to be patient. He’s also afraid whoever killed Dick and his family may have a go at him as well, and he’s taken security precautions at his house. I wandered down his drive, exploring, and he trapped my car and drew down on me.”
“Well, assuming prison didn’t send Ed around the bend, there may be something to it. We all have a certain amount of paranoia trained into us, and Ed would be no exception. Did he seem to make sense to you?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Then I’d take him seriously and find out what, if anything, he has to offer. How could it hurt?”
“Well, it’s not like I have anything else to go on.”
“You’ll find Ed an entertaining character, full of stories, and he’s very smart. You could do worse than to have him on your side.”
“I didn’t see any evidence of a wife.”
“She bailed out when Ed was arrested, took half of everything and bought a house in Florida. Last I heard, she’d remarried.”
“Tell me, Lance, in what sort of repute is Rawls held by his former colleagues?”
“Some are sympathetic; some hate his guts. Hugh English, whom Dick was succeeding as Deputy Director for Operations, was one of the haters, but he signed off on the pardon recommendation. Incidentally, I don’t know if Ed mentioned it to you, but there are a few other retired spooks living out their years on that island. I understand they do some drinking together and call themselves the Old Farts.”
Stone laughed. “Thanks for the information, Lance.”
“Call me when I can help.” Lance hung up.
It suddenly occurred to Stone that he had a golf date the following morning, and he didn’t have any golf clubs. He saw Seth Hotchkiss working in the back garden, and he walked outside.
“Hey, Stone,” Seth said.
“Hey, yourself. Tell me, Seth, did Dick have any golf clubs?”
Seth nodded. “There’s a big cupboard in the garage, next to the MG.”
“I noticed, but I didn’t look inside.”
“There’s a lot of sports stuff in that cupboard.” Then Seth nodded toward a sailboat resting at the end of Dick’s dock. “There’s that, too, got delivered from the yard this morning, and there’s a picnic boat, ought to be delivered from the yard this afternoon. You’ll get a big bill for the maintenance and storage.”
“What’s the sailing boat?”
“It’s a one-off. Dick designed it himself maybe ten years ago and had it built over at Hinckley’s, in Southwest Harbor. They built the picnic boat, too, but Dick got that last year.”
“Thanks, Seth.” Stone went back into the house and then to the garage, where he opened the large cupboard. It was a veritable sporting goods store: There was a set of titanium Callaway clubs, tennis racquets, a croquet set, fishing equipment and more. Dick was nothing if not well equipped; he had spent his wife’s money well.
Stone went back into the house, opened the safe and read Dick’s will again. The bequest of the use of the house to Stone included outright ownership of all its “appurtenances.” Stone read that to include the cars and boats and whatever else he hadn’t discovered yet.
“Holy shit,” he muttered to
“He was also the source of a tip that put somebody we were looking for in a cottage on North Islesboro. That, apparently, tipped the balance, and the top echelon at Langley, including Kate Rule, recommended a presidential pardon. He also got a million-dollar reward and repaired to his ancestral home in Dark Harbor to amuse himself as best he could and await death. That’s about it.”
“Is he somebody I can trust?”
“Trust to what?”
“Tell me the truth.”
“Probably, especially if it’s in his interest to do so. Why do you ask?”
“Rawls told me he thinks Dick’s death was work related.”
A brief silence. “Did he give you any details?”
“He said he had some feelers out, and I’d have to be patient. He’s also afraid whoever killed Dick and his family may have a go at him as well, and he’s taken security precautions at his house. I wandered down his drive, exploring, and he trapped my car and drew down on me.”
“Well, assuming prison didn’t send Ed around the bend, there may be something to it. We all have a certain amount of paranoia trained into us, and Ed would be no exception. Did he seem to make sense to you?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Then I’d take him seriously and find out what, if anything, he has to offer. How could it hurt?”
“Well, it’s not like I have anything else to go on.”
“You’ll find Ed an entertaining character, full of stories, and he’s very smart. You could do worse than to have him on your side.”
“I didn’t see any evidence of a wife.”
“She bailed out when Ed was arrested, took half of everything and bought a house in Florida. Last I heard, she’d remarried.”
“Tell me, Lance, in what sort of repute is Rawls held by his former colleagues?”
“Some are sympathetic; some hate his guts. Hugh English, whom Dick was succeeding as Deputy Director for Operations, was one of the haters, but he signed off on the pardon recommendation. Incidentally, I don’t know if Ed mentioned it to you, but there are a few other retired spooks living out their years on that island. I understand they do some drinking together and call themselves the Old Farts.”
Stone laughed. “Thanks for the information, Lance.”
“Call me when I can help.” Lance hung up.
It suddenly occurred to Stone that he had a golf date the following morning, and he didn’t have any golf clubs. He saw Seth Hotchkiss working in the back garden, and he walked outside.
“Hey, Stone,” Seth said.
“Hey, yourself. Tell me, Seth, did Dick have any golf clubs?”
Seth nodded. “There’s a big cupboard in the garage, next to the MG.”
“I noticed, but I didn’t look inside.”
“There’s a lot of sports stuff in that cupboard.” Then Seth nodded toward a sailboat resting at the end of Dick’s dock. “There’s that, too, got delivered from the yard this morning, and there’s a picnic boat, ought to be delivered from the yard this afternoon. You’ll get a big bill for the maintenance and storage.”
“What’s the sailing boat?”
“It’s a one-off. Dick designed it himself maybe ten years ago and had it built over at Hinckley’s, in Southwest Harbor. They built the picnic boat, too, but Dick got that last year.”
“Thanks, Seth.” Stone went back into the house and then to the garage, where he opened the large cupboard. It was a veritable sporting goods store: There was a set of titanium Callaway clubs, tennis racquets, a croquet set, fishing equipment and more. Dick was nothing if not well equipped; he had spent his wife’s money well.
Stone went back into the house, opened the safe and read Dick’s will again. The bequest of the use of the house to Stone included outright ownership of all its “appurtenances.” Stone read that to include the cars and boats and whatever else he hadn’t discovered yet.
“Holy shit,” he muttered to
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