Stuart Woods_Stone Barrington 14

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Publishers Since 1838
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd) Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi–110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0745, Auckland, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
    Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
    Copyright © 2007 by Stuart Woods
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Published simultaneously in Canada
    â€œBlack Mountain Blues”: Words and music by J. C. Johnson. © 1965 Record Music Publishing Co. c/o Songwriters Guild of America. All rights reserved. Used by permission.
    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Woods, Stuart.
Shoot him if he runs / Stuart Woods.
p.      cm.
ISBN: 978-1-1012-1176-2
1. Barrington, Stone (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Barker, Holly (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 3. Intelligence officers—Fiction. 4. West Indies—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3573.O642S55    2007    2007017293
813'.54—dc22
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
    While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

This book is for Barbara Ellen.

Goin’ to Black Mountain
    Take my razor and my gun;
    Gonna cut him if he stands still
    Shoot him if he runs.

    â€œBlack Mountain Blues,” by J. C. Johnson

1
    E laine’s, late.
    Stone Barrington blew into Elaine’s, later than usual. Dino Bacchetti, his former NYPD partner, sat having dinner.
    â€œWhere the hell have you been?” Dino asked.
    â€œSpokane, Washington,” Stone replied. “I told you, remember?”
    â€œI don’t remember anything anymore,” Dino said. “That’s Genevieve’s job, now.” Genevieve James was his new girlfriend, his first regular since his divorce. “What were you doing in Spokane?”
    â€œI’m having the engine ripped off my airplane and replaced with a turbine—that’s a jet engine, turning a propeller.”
    A waiter set a Knob Creek on the rocks before him, and he sipped it gratefully.
    â€œBut why are you late? Dinner was two hours ago.”
    â€œBecause my flight was late.”
    â€œYou don’t take the airlines; you have an airplane.”
    â€œDino, having sex again is addling your brain. I left the airplane in Spokane; the work takes three months. It’s a big job.”
    â€œRight.”
    Stone put several letters on the table and began opening them.
    â€œYou getting your mail here now?”
    â€œNo, I stopped to drop off my bag, and I just grabbed the mail on the way out the door.”
    Elaine came over, allowed him to kiss her and sat down. “You getting your mail here? We charge extra for that.”
    Stone put down the mail. “No, I brought it with me. Any charge for opening it here?”
    â€œDon’t make a habit of it,” she replied. “People will think you’re living in my back room.”
    â€œYou don’t have a back room.”
    â€œThat