Kisser

At ten thirty Dino used his cell phone to check on the status of the bust, then he hung up.

“Everything set?” Stone asked.

“Yep.”

“Oh, what did you find out about a helicopter pad?”

“There’s a te

“How many courts on the roof?”

“Four, stacked.”

Stone called the number Tiffany had given him for the helicopter pilot.

“Hello.”

“This is Stone Barrington.”

“Right, Mr. Barrington. We’re all set.”

“How long a flight from your position to the corner of Seventy-second and Park?”

“Two minutes.”

“At eleven a.m. sharp, start your engines and be ready.” He explained about the te

“I know the place; I’ve seen it from the air. The space is plenty big.”

“See you there,” Stone said.

At ten minutes to eleven the buzzer rang from the doorman, and Mitzi answered it. “Send Mr. Sharpe up,” she said, then hung up. “He’s on his way; you two had better get into the kitchen.”

Stone went to the window and opened it. The black Mercedes was parked, nine stories down. He leaned out the window, aimed carefully, and dropped an egg. “Bull’s-eye!” he said.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dino asked.

Stone didn’t reply but aimed the second egg. “Hah!” he shouted. “Let’s get to the kitchen.”

They ran down the hallway just as the doorbell rang.

Mitzi opened the door and let Sharpe in. He was carrying two catalogue cases.

“Who else is here?” he asked.

“Just the maid,” Mitzi said. “You’re not going to get all paranoid on me again, are you?”

“Let’s get this done,” Sharpe said. He knew the way to the study.

Mitzi sat him down, and he opened both catalogue cases and began removing one-kilo bricks of cocaine.

“Do you promise me that this cocaine is just as good as the first shipment you sold me?”

“If anything, it’s better,” Sharpe said.

“Okay, put the bricks back into the cases,” she said, and Sharpe did so.

“I assume my check cleared or you wouldn’t be here,” Mitzi said.

“You’re absolutely right,” Sharpe replied. “I’ve already wire-transferred it out of the country.”

“We’re done, then?”

Sharpe stood up. “We are. Take care of yourself, Mitzi.”

“You sound like you’re going somewhere.”

“Just a little vacation. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks to supply your friends again, if they’re still in business.”

“They’ll still be in business,” she said. She showed him to the door and let him out. Then she turned, leaned against the door, and heaved a great sigh. She went to the phone and pressed the Page button. “He’s gone,” she said. “Let’s get moving.”

Stone and Dino ran down the hall and into the living room, and Stone continued to the window. “Any problems?”

“Not a one,” Mitzi said.

Stone looked out the window. “There he goes.”

Dino called for his car, while Stone called his helicopter, and then they both ran to the elevator.

When they emerged from the apartment building they found Dino’s car waiting for them at the curb. They hopped in and, after making a quick U-turn, raced up Park Avenue and around the corner of Seventy-ninth Street.

As they turned the corner, Stone saw the helicopter approaching the building and inside a cop who was holding an elevator that would take them up. They emerged from the top floor fire door onto the roof just as the aircraft landed on the te

Stone took the left seat, next to the pilot, and put on his headset. “Okay,” he said, “we’re looking for a black sedan that’s been marked with two raw eggs.”

“How’d you do that?” the pilot asked.

“From a great height,” Stone replied.

57

STONE SPOKE INTO the headset microphone. “Let’s stay as low as possible, until we spot the car. When we do, let’s go higher, so as not to worry our man.”

“Shall we try Park Avenue first?” the pilot asked.

“Affirmative,” Stone said.

The helicopter rose vertically from the te

“There,” he said, “in that traffic backup by the construction site.”

DEREK SHARPE SAT in the traffic jam and began to sweat. He wasn’t worried about Sig Larsen leaving without him, since it took both of them to withdraw or transfer funds from their offshore account, but he was anxious to have this over and done with. He longed for a beach and a drink with an umbrella in it.

Finally, traffic edged forward, and he broke loose of the jam and headed downtown at a good speed.

STONE WATCHED as the Mercedes moved quickly down Park Avenue. “He’s going to turn west toward the Lincoln Tu

“I’m ready,” the man replied.

At Forty-seventh Street, the Mercedes made its turn and began the slow process of driving west on a crosstown Manhattan street. The pilot hung back a block or so, keeping the black car in sight.

“HE’LL TURN LEFT on Eleventh Avenue,” Stone said. “Then we’ll pick him up on the other side of the Hudson when he comes out of the tu

“Got it,” the pilot said as the Mercedes turned left on Eleventh Avenue. “Shall we cross the Hudson now and get ahead of him?”

“Sure,” Stone said.

The pilot turned right and headed toward the river. “Did you see that guy put the Airbus down in the river?” he asked Stone.

“I saw it a dozen times on TV, and I’m still amazed that everybody walked away from that one,” Stone replied. “The pilot said he was just doing what he’d been trained to do, but he did it awfully well, didn’t he?”

“Sure did,” the pilot said. “Here comes the other end of the tu

“Let’s gain some altitude,” Stone said. “I don’t want him to spot us when he emerges.”

The pilot flew the machine a little way south and hovered at five hundred feet looking back at the tu

A black Mercedes appeared. “There,” Stone said, pointing.

“Not unless he stopped at a car wash,” the pilot said. “No egg on that car.”

“You’re right. Cars are pouring out of the tu

They hovered for another couple of minutes.

“Something’s wrong,” the pilot said.

SHARPE HAD BYPASSED the tu

Sharpe had nothing in the car he needed to take with him. He hated to abandon such a nice car, but the lease was up in a couple of months, so what the hell? He jogged toward the waiting helicopter.

Larsen was holding the door for him, and he jumped in and gave Hildy a big kiss. The chopper rose, rotated a hundred and eighty degrees and began to fly north along the Hudson VFR corridor.

Larsen was pointing down. “What’s that on top of your car?” he asked.

Sharpe looked down and saw the egg splatter on the car’s roof. “I don’t know,” he said. “Vandals, I guess.”

“HE’S NOT coming out of this tu

“You’re right,” Stone said. “We’ve been had.” Then he looked across the river and saw a helicopter take off from the West Side Heliport. “Uh-oh,” he said, pointing. “Head over there.”