Smooth Operator (Teddy Fay) (22 page)

T
eddy and Stone came out of the White House. The sun was shining. The air was crisp and clear.

Holly’s hearing had gone well. Stone Barrington stipulated that she shot and killed the terrorist Abdul-Hakim, whom she surprised in the act of killing Congressman Sam Snyder, but would decline to answer any further questions in the interest of national security. A finding of self-defense was a foregone conclusion.

“So, what did you tell the President?” Teddy said.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. You couldn’t hold out on Kate now. You told her about me, didn’t you?”

“Yes. But she won’t tell Holly she knows.”

“Plausible deniability?”

Stone waggled his hand. “Just barely.”

“I assume Will knows, too?”

“I had to take the hit for Kate and tell him that I was responsible for her holding out on him.”

“Chivalrous to a fault. So they know I was involved.”

“Hey, it will come in handy in case you need another presidential pardon.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“Now that it’s over, you want me to call Mike Freeman and tell him to pull his men?”

Teddy considered. “Leave them in place for the time being. I’ll feel better while I’m on the East Coast. Some people are sore losers.”

“When are you going back?”

“I have a few loose ends to tie up. I’ll call you. Will you be here or in New York?”

“I’ll be here tonight. Holly and I never did get a chance to catch up. I’m taking her to dinner.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Teddy smiled. “Well, Stone, I guess this is it. Don’t take it personally, but I hope I don’t see you again.”

“Me too. Unless it’s on a movie set.”

“Billy Barnett you can meet anytime. It’s the other guy you should stay away from.”

“That should be easy. From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t exist.”

And Stone Barrington shook hands with the man who wasn’t there.

T
he hit man walked in and sat in the chair facing the desk.

Calvin Hancock sized him up. The man wore glasses, but the eyes behind them were cold.

“They tell me you’re the best.”

“I am.” He said it simply, not bragging, just stating a fact.

“Your fee is exorbitant.”

“I’m worth it.”

“A half a million dollars?”

“At least.”

“I’m told I just have to give you a name.”

“That’s right.”

“You guarantee results.”

“I do.”

“And yet you expect payment in advance.”

“I know
I
’
ll
keep my word. I don’t know that about you.”

“I pay my debts.”

“I’m sure you do. I shouldn’t have to depend on it. And collecting is inconvenient, since I only take cash.”

“I don’t know your name.”

“No one does.”

“And yet you have references.”

“Did they give my name?”

“No, they just said
him
.”

“That’s all anyone ever does. So how did you ask for me?”

“I said I wanted the best. They said you want
him
.”

“You do.” The hit man appeared bored. “Just give me the money and give me a name.”

“And if you can’t do it, you’ll return the money?”

“If I can’t do it, I’ll be dead. I don’t plan on being dead. I understand I’m not the first person you’ve tried.”

“Who told you that?”

“No one pays a half a million dollars unless they have to. I’m not the first.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’d like to talk to the ones who failed.”

“You can’t. They’re dead.”

“Did he kill them, or did you?”

Calvin Hancock smiled. “I think I like you. All right, half a million dollars.” He picked up an attaché case from the floor and set it on the desk. He opened the top and turned it
around. “Hundred-dollar bills. A hundred packs of fifty. Half a million cash.”

The hit man stood, picked up a packet, riffled through it. “That will be fine. What’s the name?”

“Billy Barnett.”

“Who’s Billy Barnett?”

“A Hollywood producer.”

The hit man frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? I give you the money, I give you the name. That’s what you said.”

“Why is this so hard?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be paying you half a million dollars.”

“Where is this producer now?”

“He was here in D.C., but he checked out of his hotel and is yet to check in anywhere else. He may have gone back to L.A.” Calvin cocked his head. “Will that be a problem?”

The hit man smiled and extended his hand. With his other hand, he fished the hypodermic of untraceable central nervous system paralytic from his jacket pocket.

“Not at all,” Teddy Fay
said.

I am happy to hear from readers, but you should know that if you write to me in care of my publisher, three to six months will pass before I receive your letter, and when it finally arrives it will be one among many, and I will not be able to reply.

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Writer
’
s Market
at any bookstore; that will tell you how.

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A list of my published works appears in the front of this book and on my website. All the novels are still in print in paperback and can be found at or ordered from any bookstore. If you wish to obtain hardcover copies of earlier novels or of the two nonfiction books, a good used-book store or one of the online bookstores can help you find them. Otherwise, you will have to go to a great many garage sales.

Stuart Woods is the author of more than sixty novels. He is a native of Georgia and began his writing career in the advertising industry.
Chiefs
, his debut in 1981, won the Edgar Award. An avid sailor and pilot, Woods lives in Florida, Maine, and New Mexico.

Parnell Hall is an actor, screenwriter, singer/songwriter, and the author of more than forty novels. He was awarded The Eye Lifetime Achievement Award from the Private Eye Writers of America, and has been a finalist for an Edgar, two Lefty, and three Shamus awards. Hall lives in New York City.

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