Dirty Work by Stuart Woods Page A

dinner quickly, and Stone went to the front desk. “The photographer who was here earlier,” he said to the woman. “Do you know where I can find him?”
    “Why?” the woman asked. “Did he annoy you? He only started coming here last night, and I told him not to bug the guests unnecessarily.”
    “No, nothing like that,” Stone said. “I just want to talk to him.”
    “All I’ve got is a phone number,” she said, digging into a drawer and handing over a card. It was crudely printed and read “Herbie the Eye, Great Photography Quick.”
    “Thanks,” Stone said. “Do you have a rental car available?”
    “I’ve got a jeep,” she said, handing him the keys. “I’ll charge it to your room, Mr. Barrington.”
    “Thanks so much.” Stone and Dino hurried to the car park, where they found a red jeep waiting.
    “Your job is to remember how to get back here,” Stone said, starting the vehicle.
    “Sure,” Dino said. “We’re just going to cruise?”
    “We’re going to cruise hotels,” Stone replied. “Having lost us, I don’t think Herbie is going to pass up a buck, do you?”
    “He doesn’t seem like the type.”
    They drove through the warm night, stopped at every hotel they passed and cruised the parking lot. They found two yellow jeeps, but no Herbie. Stone tried Bob Cantor’s cell phone again.
    “Yeah?” Cantor said.
    “Bob? Where the hell have you been?”
    “Who’s this?”
    “It’s Stone. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
    “I’ve been on a boat. We just got into Red Hook this evening.”
    “Where’s Red Hook?”
    “Out at the eastern end of the island. What’s up? Why have you been trying to reach me?”
    “Have you heard from Herbie Fisher?”
    “No, you’re my first call since I switched on my phone. Why would I hear from Herbie?”
    “He’s jumped bail.”
    “Jumped bail for what? Did you get the kid arrested? My sister will kill me when I get home.”
    “I didn’t get him arrested. Herbie got himself arrested, and I’m trying to get him out of it. I bailed him out through Irving Newman, and he jumped a quarter-of-a-mil bail.”
    “A quarter of a mil! What did the kid do?”
    “I’ll tell you when I see you,” Stone said. “Where are you staying?”
    “It’s my last night on the charter boat. I was planning to go home tomorrow.”
    “How do I get to Red Hook?”
    Cantor gave him directions and the name of his boat. “It’ll take you half an hour, forty-five minutes.”
    “All right,” Stone said. “Herbie is going to call you. Count on it. When he does, tell him to come to Red Hook, and don’t tell him you’ve talked to me. I think he thinks that if I find him, I’ll take him back to jail.”
    “Is that what you want to do?”
    “No! I want to get the charges reduced to a misdemeanor and get him probation. He’s got a court appearance in about thirty-six hours, and if he misses it, it’s going to cost me a hell of a lot of money.”
    “Okay, I’ll talk to the kid, Stone.”
    “Don’t talk to him, let me do that. If he somehow gets there before I do, play dumb and sit on him.”
    “Whatever you say,” Cantor replied.
    Stone hung up. “We’re going to Red Hook.”
    “I want to go to bed,” Dino said. “It’s midnight.”
    “Later.” Stone began picking his way toward Red Hook.
     
    Carpenter jumped. There had been a noise outside her door. She grabbed her handbag, extracted the little Walther, and screwed in a silencer. The Carlyle would not appreciate gunfire in their hallways. She ran across the room in her bare feet and checked the peephole. Nobody visible. She flattened herself against the wall and waited.
    The doorbell rang, and she jumped again. She didn’t open it.
    “Carpenter!” somebody said from the hall.
    She checked the peephole again. “Who are you?” she asked.
    “Mason,” he replied.
    He wouldn’t use that handle if he were at gunpoint. She unchained the door and opened it, stepping back, the pistol ready, just