Distant Thunder

38

They left the hotel early, just after breakfast. Lance slid into the shotgun seat. “You’re not paranoid,” he said.

“What?”

“I talked with the headwaiter at Harry’s Bar later. The man you saw was Valery Majorov.”

“Oh, shit!”

“You made him correctly. The question is: Did he make you?”

“And what is your opinion on that?”

“He didn’t look alarmed or make any phone calls,” Lance said. “Still...”

“I don’t know how good an actor I am,” Stone said, “but I made a phone call — to you — and I may have looked alarmed.”

“I thought you were pretty cool,” Vanessa said from the rear seat, which she shared with a lot of boxes and shopping bags.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Stone said.

“Follow the white Mercedes estate wagon up ahead,” Lance said. “There’s another car behind us; they’ll give notice of anything following us.”

Stone put the Range Rover in gear and pulled onto Mount Street, following the white Mercedes some ways ahead. That car crossed South Audley Street, then turned onto Park Lane and went all the way around Hyde Park Corner twice, before peeling off and out onto Kensington Road.

“Go twice around the next roundabout, as well,” Lance said.

Stone did so and left it pointing down the Southampton road. Fifteen minutes later they were on the motorway south. Lance’s phone rang. “Yes?” He listened, then hung up. “There’s a black BMW SUV behind our chase car that is of some concern. Proceed normally, and we’ll see what happens. Leave the motorway at Southampton, instead of continuing on, and we’ll try something else tricky.” Lance made another call. “Follow the signs to the Isle of Wight ferry and don’t stop, unless they make you. Drive aboard behind the Mercedes.”

Five minutes later, they were aboard the car ferry, departing Southampton for Cowes. “Stay in the car,” Lance commanded. “My people will have a look around.”

Half an hour later, they were leaving the ferry and Cowes, and Lance directed Stone west, toward Yarmouth, while he made another call. Fifteen minutes later, they boarded another ferry at Yarmouth, then crossed the Solent to the mainland, then got off and made for Beaulieu. Lance was on the phone again.

Another quarter of an hour and they drove through the main gate at Windward Manor, then behind the house and into the large building that served as a garage.

“Inside through the kitchen door,” Lance said, “while my people check out the grounds.”

They were at lunch in the library when Lance got another call, listened, then hung up. “The black BMW followed us to the house, though they were too far back to see if we drove here. He went past the house to the end of the road, then made a U-turn and came back this way. By that time we were safely tucked away in the garage, then into the house.”

“That was a circuitous routing,” Stone said, “but clever.”

“Thank you,” Lance said. “Being evasive was always one of my better qualities. Now, can you order the airplane for takeoff at dawn tomorrow?”

“I can,” Stone said, and called Faith. He hung up. “Wheels up at six o’clock,” he said.

“We’ll keep a close watch for bogies tonight,” Lance said.

“Will you be flying with us?”

“I believe I will accept that invitation,” Lance replied. “My boss likes it if I get a free ride now and then.”

“Who’s your boss?” Vanessa asked.

“I am,” Lance replied.