STONE TURNED OFF Third Avenue onto Forty-eighth Street and headed east.
“Take a left on First Avenue,” Billy Bob said.
Stone turned left on First, then picked up Lance’s radio. “I’m headed up First Avenue in my car,” he said.
“Roger,” Lance replied.
Stone drove on for another dozen blocks.
“Get on the FDR Drive, going north,” Billy Bob said.
Stone made the turn and got onto the drive. “I’m on the FDR, heading north,” he said into Lance’s radio.
“Roger,” Lance replied.
Traffic was light, and he moved well. He picked up a radio. “Lance, do you have me in sight?”
“Roger,” Lance said. “We’re in what looks like a news copter. We’ve got you in sight, so there’s no need to report again. If we lose you, I’ll call. Relax.”
Stone tried to relax.
“Turn onto the Triborough Bridge,” Billy Bob said, “and keep left.”
Stone breezed through the tollbooth, because of the E-ZPass device on his windshield, and moved over to the left lane.
“Follow the signs to Randall’s Island,” Billy Bob said.
Randall’s Island is in the East River; Stone had never been there. He drove down the ramp and approached an intersection.
“Turn right.”
Stone turned right.
“Follow the road.”
It was like having a talking GPS navigator in the car. He was driving past a series of baseball diamonds. He had never known they were there.
“After the traffic circle, turn into Field One Twenty-one,” Billy Bob said.
Stone went around the traffic circle, came out and followed a sign to 121.
“Pull under the bleacher cover, get out of the car and leave the radio,” Billy Bob said. “Leave your other radio, too.”
Stone picked up Lance’s radio. “I’m at baseball diamond number one twenty-one on Randall’s Island. I have to leave your radio here. Billy Bob thinks I had another radio, so be prepared for some sort of surprise.”
Stone stopped under the bleacher cover, at a place where equipment could drive onto the field for maintenance. He got out of the car and, immediately, a man stepped out of the shadows with a shotgun and pointed it at his head.
“Turn around and put your hands on the roof of the car,” the man said.
Stone did as he was told. The man rested the barrel of the shotgun against the back of his head and began to pat him down. Right away, he found the Walther in the holster on Stone’s belt. He found the magazines, too, dropped them and the pistol on the ground and kicked them under the car. Then he started down Stone’s legs from the crotch. He wasn’t shy about feeling everything, but he was doing it from behind, so he missed the Keltec .380 in Stone’s Thunderwear. He found the S&W snubnose, though, and kicked that under the car, too.
Stone felt a handcuff snap onto his right wrist.
“Give me your left hand,” the man said.
Stone did so, and his hands were cuffed together behind his back. The barrel of the shotgun against his head persuaded him not to object.
The man grabbed him by the collar and stood him up, facing the rear of the car.
“Now listen to me very carefully,” the man said.
Stone looked over his shoulder and saw the trunk lid of his car slowly open.
“My instructions are to kill you, if you give me the slightest difficulty,” the man said. He was standing with the short-barreled shotgun at port arms.
“Oh, I won’t give you any trouble,” Stone said. He saw Dino roll out of the trunk of his car, and he had never been so glad to see anybody. “But the guy behind you might.”
“Yeah, sure,” the man said.
Dino put a pistol to the back of the man’s head and said, “Drop the shotgun.”
The man dropped the shotgun.
“Oh, no,” Stone said aloud.
“What da ya mean, ‘oh, no,’ ” Dino said, and then somebody put another shotgun barrel against the back of his head.
“Oh, no, there’s a guy with a shotgun behind you,” Stone said.
“Swell,” Dino replied. He dropped his pistol on the pavement.
Stone watched as the second man put Dino against the car and searched and handcuffed him as had been done to Stone.
“What do we do with this one?” one of the men said.
“I dunno; there were no orders about that.”
“Call and find out.”
The first man produced a radio. “Boss, we’ve got two of them here,” he said.
“I told you it might happen,” he said. “Sit them down and carry out the rest of the plan.” The men put Stone and Dino on the ground, leaning against a light pole.
From somewhere out beyond the field, Stone heard a helicopter. “It’s Lance,” he whispered to Dino.
“It goddamned well better be,” Dino whispered back.
Then another man appeared from the shadows. He was Stone’s height and weight, with the same hair color.
“Let’s go,” one of the men said, grabbing the man by the arm.
Stone was baffled by this turn of events, but then he watched as the man with the shotgun marched the other man toward the center of the little ballpark. They stopped on the pitcher’s mound, and seconds later, a green helicopter swooped in and set down in a cloud of dust. The man with the shotgun pretended to force the other man onto the chopper, then it lifted off and flew away to the east.
“I think you just left by helicopter,” Dino said.
“Yes, and it wasn’t Lance’s.”
The shotgunner ran back under the shelter and waited. Stone could see the helicopter head out in the direction of Long Island, and, a moment later, he saw another chopper in pursuit, one with “News 6” painted on its side in huge letters.
One of the shotgunners spoke into a radio. “Okay, we’re good.”
A moment later, a silver Lincoln Navigator screeched to a halt under the roof, and Billy Bob got out. “God, your people are stupid,” he said.
Stone tried and failed to think of a snappy comeback.
“Put them in the luggage compartment and cuff ’em back to back,” Billy Bob said.
The two men put first Stone, then Dino into the rear compartment of the Navigator, and Stone heard another pair of handcuffs snapping shut. He and Dino could lean against each other’s backs, but they couldn’t turn around. Somebody then pulled a shadelike cover over their heads and fastened it. A moment later, the Navigator drove away.
“All comfy back there, Stone, Dino?”
Neither of them replied, but Dino was swearing a blue streak under his breath.
“I hadn’t expected you, Dino, but you’re welcome. I ought to be able to gain some sort of advantage by having a cop as my guest for a short while.”
“Thanks for coming,” Stone whispered to Dino.
“My pleasure,” Dino replied.
“Now you boys settle down back there,” Billy Bob said. “While your friends are chasing my rented chopper around Long Island, you and I have other fish to fry.”
“Where’s Arrington?” Stone asked.
“I didn’t expect you to keep your end of the bargain, Stone, so I didn’t keep mine. You’ll see her later, though.”
Stone tried to relax and count the car’s turns, figure out where it was going. After five minutes of left and right and U-turns, he gave up.