Stone Barrington 06-11

said.
    “He’s on the run now, and I’d be grateful for any help you could give me in locating him.”
    “I’ll make some calls,” Eduardo said. “Are you at home?”
    “No, I’m on my cell phone.” Stone gave him the number, and Eduardo hung up.
    “Happy?” he said to Holly.
    “Deliriously,” she said grumpily.
    A man in a raincoat walked up to Stone’s side of the car. “Excuse me,” he said.
    Stone turned and looked up at him, only to find himself looking into both barrels of a sawed-off shotgun.
    “I’ve got one over here, too,” Holly said.

    “What can I do for you?” Stone asked, placing his hands on the steering wheel.
    “You can do what you’re told,” the man said.
    “Shoot,” Stone replied. “No, scrub that—I mean, your wish is my pleasure.”
    “You got a good attitude,” the man said. “Get out of the car.”

44
    T HEY WERE MARCHED across the street and down the block by the two men wearing raincoats and carrying shotguns. As they moved down the street a pair of steel doors opened ahead of them and a freight elevator appeared.
    “Hop on,” one of the men said.
    They got on, the platform descended into the darkness below the sidewalk, and the doors closed above their heads. Before their eyes could become accustomed to the gloom, hands searched them and removed their weapons. Then they were shoved along a basement filled with crates of canned food and bottles of olive oil to a storeroom at the rear, where they were shoved rudely inside. The door was closed and bolted.
    “All right, what now?” Holly said.
    Stone couldn’t see her, or his own hand in front of his face. “You think I have a solution for this problem?”
    “You’re resourceful. Think of something.”

    “It’s your turn.”
    She sighed loudly. “You want to just wait around here until Trini arrives and shoots us?”
    “You think that’s the plan?”
    “Well, I don’t think those two guys were with the FBI or the NYPD, do you?”
    “Come to think of it, I don’t believe either of those groups ordinarily arms its people with sawed-off shotguns.”
    “Well, that’s an astute observation.”
    “It’s the best I can do in the dark.”
    A light came on. It was a tiny flashlight, and Holly was holding it.
    “You always carry a flashlight?”
    “It’s on my key ring,” she said, aiming it around the room. All four walls were brick, and the floor concrete, with a large drain in the middle. Along the ceiling was a row of meat hooks.
    “Uh-oh,” Stone said.
    “What?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Don’t tell me ‘nothing’; what ?”
    “Turn off the light and save the batteries for when we need them.”
    “Need them for what?”
    “For seeing.”
    “We need them now for seeing.”
    “There’s nothing to see.”
    “There’s those hooks. I don’t like the look of them.”
    “Me, either. That’s why I said, ‘uh-oh.’ ”

    “Oh.”
    “Yeah.”
    “We’ve got to get out of here,” she said.
    “I’d appreciate your thoughts on just how to do that.”
    There was a long silence.
    “Well?”
    “I’m thinking about it,” she said.
    Stone put his hand against the door and pushed. “Solid oak,” he said. “Firmly bolted.”
    “Maybe if we both put our shoulders against it?”
    “We’d bruise our shoulders quite badly.”
    “What would you suggest?”
    “We can wait for somebody to unbolt it, then put our shoulders against it. We might surprise them.”
    “ Fuggedaboutit !” said a voice from outside the door.
    Holly reached out and grabbed for Stone, then put her lips close to his ear. “I think they can hear us.”
    “I think so, too,” Stone whispered back.
    “Maybe we’d better shut up.”
    “Good idea.”
    “Don’t stop thinking, though.”
    “I’m still thinking.”
    A long silence.
    “You come up with anything yet?” she whispered.
    “Not yet.”
    Another loud sigh. She switched on the light and turned it on some crates against the wall. “We can sit down,” she said.
    They sat down.

    “There’s even room to lie down,” she said.
    “Are you sleepy?”
    “No, I’m horny.”
    “At a time like this?” he whispered.
    “Well, it looks like we’re not going to live very long. It might be our last chance.”
    “I don’t think I could rise to the occasion,” he whispered.
    She put her hand on his thigh and felt for his zipper. “I’ll bet you can.”
    “Holly.”
    “What?”
    “Not now.”
    “If not now, when?” She got the zipper undone and