Kisser (2010)

Stone said.
    “Not that you could hit anything.”
    “Why do you think I asked you to bring the target pistol?” Stone said. He didn’t argue with Dino’s opinion of his marksmanship.
    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 tennis club a couple of doors from the corner of Seventy-ninth that’s being renovated. They’re taking down the nets and posts on the rooftop courts. My car is parked a block from here; my driver will run us there.”
    “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 tennis club.
    “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 tennis courts, jumped in, and buckled their seat belts.
    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 tennis courts for a couple of hundred feet, then the