Distant Thunder

33

Stone came out of his dressing room and found Vanessa sitting on the edge of the bed, nude. He knelt and attended to things at the Delta of Venus.

Vanessa ran her fingers through his hair and sighed. “Who needs Dame Felicity?”

“We try to offer a complete service,” Stone said, climbing atop of her. She lifted her knees to allow him full entry.

“And you do that so well,” she breathed.

When they were both sated, they lay side by side. “Is anyone still trying to kill us?” she asked.

“Probably not,” Stone replied, “but there’s a loaded shotgun under my side of the bed, and a pistol in my bedside drawer.”

“I know how to use both of those implements,” she said, “in case I’m needed.”

“Good to know. We might not have time for weapons instruction.”

She fondled him. “I’ve already had weapons instruction,” she said, “but I can always muster a second wind.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Stone said, “so let’s save it for the morning.”

They were both soon asleep.

The following morning, Stone’s eyes fluttered open, and he experienced a moment of disorientation, uncertain on what continent they were, but it was momentary. A birdsong outside snapped him into place; one didn’t hear that often in New York.

“What kind of bird is that?” Vanessa asked.

“I’ve no idea,” Stone replied. “My knowledge of ornithology extends only as far as robins and LBJs, as a friend of mine puts it.”

“What’s an LBJ?” she asked.

“A Little Brown Job,” he replied.

She threw a leg over him. “I believe we have an appointment,” she said.

Stone joined her. “I believe we do.”

Breakfast was sent up, and they had it in bed.

“You mentioned riding,” Vanessa said. “Is that in the cards today?”

“If you will forgive me, I’d like us to stay indoors today, perhaps out of an overabundance of caution.”

“I’ve no objection,” Vanessa said. “Do we have to get out of bed?”

“Eventually, otherwise the staff will talk among themselves.”

“Are they very talkative?”

“They are human, and thus talkative.”

“And at what hour will our guests arrive?”

“Felicity at six-thirty, as will her guests, the Parkers. Lance is liable to turn up at any time, but I won’t acknowledge his presence until the same time.”

“Is Lance bringing someone?”

“Felicity will be his date, as it were. Have you ever met Lance?”

“A few times, with John.”

“How did the two of you get along?”

“Well enough. Also, I may as well tell you, before Lance lets anything slip. I didn’t actually meet John after his Farm days. We met there, where we were both in training.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Stone said.

“I never fully joined the Agency. Wasn’t for me, but it was good learning. I did become a model after, that wasn’t a lie. Were you ever at the Farm?” she asked.

“Once, for two or three days. I’m still trying to forget the experience.”

She laughed. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t all that bad.”

“The good days must have arrived after my departure. Once, however, I lost a bet and had to do the full course at the MI6 counterpart, in Scotland.”

“How was that?”

“The weather was worse than at Camp Peary.”

She laughed.

“The weather is one of the few things you can count on, in Scotland.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Nothing that wouldn’t have been covered at the Farm if I’d hung around long enough. The drill sergeants were equally odious.”

“Sergeants are like that,” she said. “I was there when Holly Barker did a guest lecture, you know.”

“I did not know. How did she conduct herself?”

“Whip smart and a better shot than our shooting instructor.”

“That sounds like her.” He sought a change of subject. “How were you recruited?”

“Someone recommended me to Lance.”

“Who?”

“Lance wouldn’t tell me.”

“You can ask him tonight,” Stone said.

“I might just do that, if I can corner him for a minute.”

“Cornering Lance is hard work,” Stone said.