Stuart Woods_Stone Barrington 12

three points,” Stone said.
    â€œAnd the weapon was silenced, right? This was a pro hit,” Rawls said, sitting back in his chair. “No doubt about it.”
    â€œThe weapon was Dick’s own,” Stone said.
    â€œWell,” Rawls said, sitting back again, “if you were a pro staging a murder-suicide, you’d use the victim’s own gun, wouldn’t you? Lends plausibility.”
    â€œThat brings us to who sent the pro,” Stone said. “Any ideas, Ed?”
    Rawls sipped his coffee contemplatively. “You make enemies in that line of work.”
    â€œWhich ones did Dick make?”
    â€œIrish? Russian mafia? Islamics? Take your pick.”
    â€œSo you have no idea?”
    â€œNot specifically.”
    â€œWho would want to kill you, then?”
    â€œAh,” Rawls chuckled. “The field broadens. With me, you have to consider domestic sources.”
    â€œDomestic? The Agency deals only in foreign matters, doesn’t it?”
    â€œWell, not anymore…not since 9/11, anyway. It did in my day, though, at least mostly.”
    â€œYou fear your own countrymen, then?”
    â€œMore than anybody else.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œLet’s just say that my countrymen were not always happy with the way I did my work.”
    â€œI’ve heard your name before, haven’t I?” He knew he had, but he couldn’t place it.
    Rawls shrugged. “Possibly.”
    â€œWhy would I have heard it, Ed?”
    Rawls shrugged again but said nothing.
    â€œCome on, Ed. I can run a check on you half a dozen ways. Hell, I can probably get most of it by Googling you.”
    â€œI suppose you could,” Rawls said. “I was running the Scandinavian station out of Stockholm some years back, looking forward to retirement. I got involved with a lovely Swedish creature who turned out to be a lovely Russian creature. This was before the fuckers all became democrats. They blackmailed me, and I gave them some fairly useless information, but a meet went south, and a couple of my people bought it. I was blamed, and they hung me out to dry.”
    â€œI remember now,” Stone said. “You’re supposed to be in prison, aren’t you?”
    â€œI was, until a few months ago, but a couple of nice things happened. One: The former KGB station chief in Stockholm told the Brits that I had nothing to do with the two deaths, that it was an accident not related to me, and the Brits told our people. Two: Even in the Atlanta pen I was able to do my country a valuable service, and a combination of the two things got me a presidential pardon. And a very nice cash reward, I might add.”
    â€œI didn’t hear about the pardon.”
    â€œAlmost nobody did. I think they announced it in the middle of the night. It probably won’t be out until Will Lee isn’t president anymore.”
    â€œAnd how’d you end up on Islesboro?”
    â€œOh, I’m a fourth-generation islander; my great-grandfather built this house, and I’ve owned it for more than twenty years.”
    â€œHow did the islanders react to your, ah, problems?”
    â€œPretty well. I actually got some encouraging mail in prison, and when I came back, it was like I’d never left. During the whole business I was never asked to resign from the yacht club or the golf club. You play golf?”
    â€œIn a manner of speaking.”
    â€œLet’s do that soon. I’ll introduce you to some islanders.”
    â€œEd, are you convinced that nobody who lives here had anything to do with the murders of Dick and his family?”
    Rawls nodded. “I am. Nobody knows this place and these people better than I do, and, believe me, it’s just not in the cards.”
    â€œBut you can’t suggest exactly who might have been involved?”
    â€œNot yet, but I’ve got some feelers out. You’ll have to be patient; these things aren’t on the clock.”
    â€œYou’re making me feel helpless,” Stone said. “I’m out of my depth with the kind of people you’re talking about.”
    â€œYeah, but you know people who can help, Stone.”
    â€œDo I?”
    â€œWell, until yesterday, you were up here with Lance Cabot, weren’t you?”
    â€œThere is a local grapevine, isn’t there?”
    â€œSure, there is.”
    â€œYou know Lance?”
    â€œI helped train him,” Rawls said. “He worked