Class Act

35

Stone called his pilot, Faith. “Wheels up tomorrow at nine am, for Windward Hall. We’ll need a copilot and a stewardess.”

“Consider it done,” Faith said, then hung up.

“Windward Hall? Is that where we’re going?” Tara asked.

Stone put a finger to his lips, and she retreated.

“Sounds like the Bahamas to me,” Tara said to Dino.

Dino put a finger to his lips.

“When are you going to tell Viv about this?” she asked Dino.

“I already have,” he said, hitting send on a text.

Tara’s shoulders sagged. “I give up,” she said.

“Good,” Stone said. “You’ll enjoy the experience more that way.”

“Have you told Bob?”

“I’ll explain it to him when I get home.”

Stone picked up Tara at the appointed hour the following morning, and a half hour later, they were at Teterboro. Fred pulled the car into the Strategic Services hangar alongside the airplane, a Gulfstream 500, and linemen unloaded and stowed the luggage.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be able to get to my bags if I’ve forgotten a hairbrush or something,” Tara said.

“Of course you will,” Stone replied. “The baggage compartment is accessible from the rear cabin.” He escorted her aboard the airplane, showed her the layout, seated her, and turned her over to the stewardess, while he went forward. “Excuse me,” he said to Tara, “I have to go fly the airplane.”

“You didn’t tell me about that part,” Tara called after him.

“Stone likes to take off and land the airplane. Keeps his pilot’s skills sharp,” the stewardess said. She left Tara with coffee and pastries, then went to deal with Dino and Viv.

From the right seat, Faith read off the preflight checklist, while Stone set the switches and repeated the commands to her. He called the tower for permission to taxi and received clearance to runway one. He ran through the final checklist, then requested takeoff.

“Cleared for takeoff,” the woman in the tower said. Stone steered the aircraft onto the runway, using the tiller, then pushed the throttles all the way forward. The airplane began to roll. A moment later, he had enough airspeed for steerage with the rudder and used his feet to keep them on the center line, while Faith called out his speeds, “Seventy knots, one hundred knots,” then, “Rotate!”

Stone pulled steadily back on the yoke, and the airplane lifted off. A moment later he retracted the landing gear and flaps, then he switched on the autopilot, and that instrument flew the airplane through the departure procedure, turning northeast, along the north shore of Long Island. At that point, Stone gave the airplane back to Faith, her copilot joined her, and he returned to his seat with his guests.

“Okay, we’re off!” Tara said. “Now can I know where we’re going?”

“You won’t know until we arrive,” Stone said.

Tara looked out the window and saw the eastern tip of Long Island pass. “We’re out over the ocean!” she said.

“Right where we’re supposed to be,” Stone replied. “This might be a good time to brief you on the location of your life jacket and our life raft.”

“Why do we need those?” she asked.

“Just in case we get our feet wet.”

Tara pretended to faint.

Bob, who had boarded last, came to greet everybody.

“See, Bob’s not worried,” Stone said.

“He’s a dog,” Tara pointed out.

“And a very smart one,” Stone replied.

Bob settled into his travel bed across the aisle, and in a minute was sound asleep. “See?” Stone said. “Nothing to worry about.”

“How long is our flight?” Tara asked.

“We’ll have lunch aboard and we’ll be on the ground in time for dinner.”

“Sounds like Ireland,” she said, consulting a small compass she had brought along.

“Does it?” Stone picked up the Times, found the crossword and gave the rest to Tara. “Here,” he said, “improve your mind. There’s a piece about Ireland in the business section.”

Tara flipped through the paper until she found it. “It’s about butter production,” she said.

“I’ll bet there’s a lot you don’t know about butter production,” Stone replied.

After the Times, lunch was served: a lobster salad and a chilled bottle of Far Niente chardonnay. After that, people tended to drift off, Tara with her head on Stone’s shoulder.

Eventually, lights appeared along the southwest coast of England. Shortly after that, the airplane gave a jerk, waking Tara.

“What was that?”

“The landing gear coming down.”

“Is it supposed to do that?”

“It’s mandatory before landing. Do this.” He pinched his nose and blew, clearing his ears.

“Who’s landing the airplane?”

“That tiny blonde you saw when we boarded.”

“Where are we?”

“Approaching the runway at Windward Hall.”

“What’s Windward Hall?”

“A very nice house.”

“Where is it?”

“Dead ahead.” They touched down, rolled out, and stopped. The engines died, and the stewardess opened the cabin door. A Range Rover and a golf cart with a truck bed awaited them at the bottom of the airstairs.

They got into the Range Rover, and Bob hopped on the golf cart, next to the driver. The caravan moved off, toward the well-lighted main house in the distance.

“Is that a movie set?” Tara asked, pointing at the house.

“No, it is a country house in the county of Hampshire, in the south of England.”

“Whose is it?”

“Mine.”

“Oh. I guess we’re there then.”

“We are there. Are you disappointed?”

“To the contrary, I’m very impressed. And hungry.”

“Dinner will be served as soon as you’ve unpacked and freshened up.”

“You don’t seem to have any luggage, except your briefcase.”

“I have a wardrobe here. It’s not necessary to bring things from New York.” He led her upstairs to the master suite, and showed her to her dressing room and bath. “I’ll see you in the library as soon as you’re done,” he said. “Bottom of the stairs, then right.”

Ten minutes later she joined the others as Stone was tending bar. “Scotch?” he asked.

“Laphroaig, if you have it.”

“We have.” He poured the drink and handed it to her. She took a seat and looked around the paneled room, stocked with leather-bound volumes. “Have you read all these books?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

They sat down before the fire and sipped.

“Now that the mystery of our destination is solved, here’s another: Why are we here?”

“To keep Stone from being murdered in the street,” Dino replied. He raised his glass. “I give you Stone, not dead.”

They all drank.