The Short Forever

“But I wasn’t trying to leave.”

“You wouldn’t have made it without your passport, anyway.”

“Honestly, I was just trying to catch up with my friend.”

They were out the door, where Stone’s taxi was still waiting for him.

“That cab is waiting for me to go back to the Connaught,” he said.

“Never mind, we’ll give you a lift,” the cop replied.

“But I have to pay him.”

The cop stopped. “All right, pay him.”

“I don’t have any money with me; it’s back in my room at the Connaught.”

The cop sighed wearily. “I suppose you expect me to pay him.”

“Look, I’m not trying to leave the country; you can follow me back to the hotel.”

“Just a moment.” The cop produced a cellphone and stepped a few paces away. A moment later, he returned. “All right, Mr. Barrington, the detective inspector says you can return to the Connaught.”

“Thank you.”

“But don’t give us any more chases, all right?”

“Thank you again.” Stone got into the cab.

“Catch her, sir?”

“Not quite,” Stone replied. “Take me back to the Connaught.”

The black Ford followed them all the way back.

Chapter 40

STONE GOT BACK TO THE CONNAUGHT, went upstairs, got money, and paid the driver, tipping him extravagantly. As he passed the concierge’s desk, he heard his name called.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Barrington,” the concierge said, “but this message arrived for you last evening, and it was somehow misplaced.” He handed Stone a yellow envelope.

Stone opened it and extracted the message. I’m on my way, it said, and that was all. “Who is it from?” he asked the concierge.

“I’m afraid that’s just how it came, sir; there was no name. We thought you’d know who it was from.”

“Man or woman?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t on duty last evening, so I don’t know.”

Stone stuffed it into his pocket and went upstairs. He didn’t care who the fuck it was from, he was too pissed off. He let himself into the suite, hung up his jacket, and picked up the London papers. He went quickly through the Times and the Independent, looking for further mention of the two dead “Greeks” but saw nothing. There was a small piece about the explosion at the antiques market, but it had, apparently, been attributed to a gas leak.

He soaked in a hot tub for nearly an hour, grateful for the solitude, then ordered some sandwiches from room service and turned on the TV. He watched CNN for a while and, after he began seeing the same stories for the third time, began channel surfing. There was an Italian soap opera, a bad 1930s movie, a children’s show, and a soccer match. Stone had always thought that soccer would be a better spectator sport if the field were half as long and the goals twice as wide. Finally, he settled on a cricket match and for an hour tried to make some sense of it. He finally concluded that cricket was an elaborate joke that the Brits played on American tourists; that they probably played the same taped match over and over. He dozed.

He was awakened by a heavy knock on the door. Still in a stupor, he gathered the terrycloth robe around him and went to the door. Nobody there. The hammering came again, and it seemed to be coming from his right, where there was a door, always locked, apparently leading to a second bedroom adjoining his suite. He listened at that door and jumped back when the hammering started again. Very weird. Gingerly, he unlocked his side of the door and opened it. Behind it was another door, and someone hammered on it again. “It’s locked on your side!” he yelled.

The latch turned, and the door opened. Dino Bacchetti stood in the adjoining room.

“Jesus,” Dino said, “are you deaf? I’ve been knocking for ten minutes.”

Stone was completely nonplussed. “What the hell are you doing here, Dino?”

“I’m hungry; get me a room-service menu.”

“Press the button over there that says ‘waiter,’ ” Stone instructed. Dino pressed it.

“Dino, what are you doing in London?”

“Didn’t you get my message?”

“No. Well, yes, I guess so, but there was no name on it.”

The waiter knocked on the door, and Stone opened it.

“Yes, sir; may I get you something?”

“What time is it in this country?” Dino asked.

“Nine-thirty P.M., sir,” the waiter said, glancing at his watch.

“You want some dinner?” Dino asked Stone.

“Whatever you’re having,” Stone replied.

“Bring us a couple Caesar salads and a couple steaks, medium-rare, and a decent bottle of red wine,” Dino said to the waiter.

“Of course, sir. Would you like some potatoes?”

“Sure, sure, whatever you’ve got,” Dino said. “And bring him a double Wild Turkey on the rocks, and me a Johnnie Walker Black, fixed the same, right away, please.” He closed the door behind the departing waiter.

“Dino, just once more, what are you doing here?”

Dino shucked off his coat, loosened his tie, and sank into an armchair. “What the fuck are they doing?” he asked, pointing at the TV.

“They’re playing cricket,” Stone replied. “It’s been going on for at least six hours.”

“What are the rules?”

“Nobody knows. What are you doing here?”

“Well, you’re in trouble; somebody had to come over here and pull your ass out of the shit.”

“I’m not in trouble.”

“Oh? I hear you’re looking good for a double murder.”

“Oh, that; Throckmorton called you.”

“Yep.” He was still gazing, rapt, at the TV. “What kind of pitching is that?” he asked.

“They call it bowling.”

“That’s not what they call bowling in my neighborhood,” Dino said.

“What did Throckmorton tell you?”

“Just that they found a couple of stiffs in a car trunk, and one of them was wearing your raincoat.”

“That was an accident,” Stone said.

“An accident? With two pops each in the head?”

“I mean the raincoat.”

“An accidental raincoat? Hey, look at that; they don’t run to first, they run to the pitcher’s mound and back again. This is completely nuts!”

“I grabbed somebody’s raincoat, and he apparently grabbed mine. Or rather, whoever shot him grabbed it and put it on him.”

“Didn’t want him to get rained on, I guess,” Dino said. “Do you really expect anybody to believe a story like that?”

“Throckmorton doesn’t believe it?”

“Of course not; who would?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly tell him everything.”

“I figured. You want to tell me?”

The waiter arrived with the drinks, and they sat down.

Dino raised his glass. “To your eventual freedom,” he said, and took a long pull on his Scotch.

“I’m not under arrest,” Stone said.

“No? Stick around. Now, you want to tell me what the fuck happened?”

“All right, but Throckmorton never hears this, okay?”

“Are you kidding? I came over here to get you out of this, not to send you to Wormy Scrubbers.”

“Wormwood Scrubs.”

“Whatever.”

“All right, here’s how it went,” Stone said.

“You better start at the beginning, so we don’t have to go backwards.”

“All right; this guy showed up in my office, sent by Woodman and Weld.” Stone began to take Dino, blow by blow, through what had happened since he’d arrived in London. He got as far as the explosion at the antiques market when dinner arrived. The waiter served it and left.

When he had gone, Stone continued with the events at the Farm Street house. When he got to the dinner of the night before, he stopped, not wanting to talk about Sarah or Arrington.

“So,” Dino said, “how’s Sarah? How’s Arrington?”

“How did you know Arrington was here?”

“She called me a few days ago, said she was headed to London and how were you?”

“Why didn’t she call me?”

“I guess she did, and you weren’t there, so she called me. She’s buying an apartment in New York.”

“I heard.”

“So tell me about Sarah and Arrington, and how you’re keeping them both happy.”

Stone did the best he could.

“So Arrington is on her way to New York?”

“Right.”

“And Sarah is filthy rich, having knocked off her boyfriend?”

“She didn’t knock him off, it was an accident; I was there.”

“Sure, like Arrington didn’t knock off Vance Calder.”

“You don’t really think she did that, do you?”

“Nobody’s proved to me that she didn’t.”

“Dino, you’re a very suspicious person, do you know that?”

“It’s useful in my work; and if I weren’t a suspicious person, somebody would have knocked you off by now.”

“You’re probably right,” Stone admitted. Dino had gotten him out of the soup more than once.

“You know what I think?” Dino said, pushing back from the table.

“What?”

“I think I’m going to bed. I hear jet lag is a bitch if you don’t get any sleep.”

“So, you’re going to bed without having solved any of my problems?”

“You betcha.” He got up, went to the door of his room, and opened it. “I’ll do that tomorrow.” He closed the door.

“Christ, I wish somebody would,” Stone said.

Chapter 41

DINO WALKED INTO STONE’S ROOM AT 6:30 A.M., in his pajamas, whistling loudly. “Up and at ’em!” he shouted.

Stone groaned, rolled over, and pulled a pillow over his head.

“Don’t you want to brush your teeth before breakfast?” Dino asked, ripping the covers off Stone.

“No,” Stone replied, trying vainly to get the covers back.

“That’s disgusting,” Dino said. “You can’t eat breakfast without brushing your teeth; it’s unsanitary.”

Stone peeped out from under the pillow. “What breakfast? I haven’t ordered breakfast.”

There was a sharp rap on the door.

“That breakfast,” Dino said, opening the door and admitting the waiter.

Stone went and brushed his teeth; when he returned, an elaborate breakfast had been laid out.

Dino handed him a large glass of orange juice. “Come on, wake up.”

Stone took the orange juice. “This must be what it’s like to be married.”

“Are you kidding?” Dino asked. “The day you get married is the last day you’ll ever get breakfast in bed.”

“I’m not in bed,” Stone said, sipping the orange juice.

“Close enough. What’s your plan for the day?”

“I’m planning for you to solve all my problems,” Stone said.

“Okay, I can do that. Not Arrington, of course, or Sarah; you’ll have to handle those yourself, though of course, I’ll be there with lots of advice.”

“I’d rather not hear it,” Stone said, digging into his scrambled eggs.

“Man, these are really terrific eggs,” Dino said. “How do they get them like this?”

“I asked about that,” Stone replied. “Seems they cook them very slowly, with a lot of butter, in a saucepan, not a skillet, and they serve them on a hot plate, very soft, since they continue to cook on the plate.”

“No kidding? I’ll have to get Mary Ann to do them that way.”

“Lots of luck. Your wife doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who would spend the early moments of her morning making you English scrambled eggs.”

“Who would have thought the English could cook?”

“Someone, I think it was George Bernard Shaw, once said that you could eat very well in England, as long as you have breakfast three times a day.” Stone was waking up now.

Dino laughed. “I gotta remember that one.”

“Don’t bother; it isn’t true anymore; the Brits cook very well indeed these days. Okay, how are you going to solve all my problems?”

“I slept on your problems,” Dino said, “and I think you can best solve them by leaving London and going back to New York. That would remove you from the evil influence of the people around you in this town.”

“They aren’t all evil,” Stone replied.

“No? Name me one person you know in London that you can prove not to be evil.”

“They’re innocent until proven guilty,” Stone said.

“Only in a court of law; in the court of my law, every fucking one of them is guilty of something.”

“Demonstrate, please.”

“Okay, let’s take Bartholomew: Do you have any doubt that he’s an evil son of a bitch?”

Stone thought about it for a moment. “No,” he said, “none.”

“And you’re working for him. How about Lance?”

“Well, I think he may be mixed up in those two murders; and maybe a lot more, as well.”

“Same for Sarah, except it’s just one murder,” Dino said. “Who’s left?”

“Well, there’s Erica and Monica, the sisters.”

“Okay, I guess there have to be some innocent bystanders, but I’m not going to count on it.”

“And there’s Arrington.”

“Arrington doesn’t count; she’s not in London.”

“And Throckmorton.”

“Throckmorton wants you to spend the rest of your life in an English prison, where they don’t have toilets. How evil is that?”

“He doesn’t believe for a moment that I killed those two men.”

“He doesn’t care,” Dino said. “He just wants to clear these two killings; it doesn’t make him look good for bodies to turn up in his nice, green park. If he can blame you, he’s home free.”

Stone thought for a moment. “They don’t have toilets in English prisons?”

“No, they were all built before they had plumbing; you have to shit in a bucket and do God-knows-what with it.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“My very point; it’s why, among other reasons, you don’t want to go to jail over here.”

“So what is your solution to dealing with all this evil?”

“I told you: get out of town. You don’t owe these people anything.”

“I can’t; Throckmorton has my passport. Yesterday, when I tried to see Arrington at the airport, two of his goons dragged me out of the place.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Dino said. “If I can get your passport back, will you get out of here right away?”

Stone thought about that. “Maybe. But I have to admit, I’m pretty curious about what’s going on. You have any thoughts about that?”

“Let’s take these people one at a time, in reverse order of evilness,” Dino said. “Monica: She just has a business here, and she’s probably not involved. Erica: She may not be involved; she just wants to follow Lance around like a puppy, and she doesn’t give a fuck what he’s done or what he’s doing. Sarah: If there were any justice, she’d be shitting in a bucket in an English prison, instead of collecting a huge inheritance. Ali and Sheila: They’re in business with Lance, so they’re just as evil as he is. That leaves us with Lance and Hedger, who are so obviously evil that it’s hardly worth discussing.”

“I want to know what it is that Lance and Hedger actually do that’s so evil.”

“Well, Hedger, for a start, killed that retired cop Bobby Jones.”

“He just had him beaten up—not that that’s a good thing.”

“He’s dead,” Dino said. “Died of his injuries. Throckmorton told me on the phone; that’s one of the reasons he’s so pissed off with you.”

“Oh, God,” Stone moaned. “I didn’t know; nobody told me.”

“So that makes Hedger a murderer; Throckmorton wants him for Jones, but I get the impression that his investigation is being impeded by somebody in the British government.”

“You two had quite a little heart-to-heart, didn’t you?” Stone asked. “Why hasn’t he told me any of this? He’s certainly had the opportunity.”

“Because he doesn’t trust you, dummy; you work for Hedger, don’t you? He’d like to have Hedger shitting in a bucket somewhere and you for an accessory. Jones and his buddy Cricket were apparently two of Throckmorton’s favorite people.”

“Jesus, I’m never going to get out of this country,” Stone said.

“That’s a possibility,” Dino agreed. “What we’ve got to do is find out what’s going on here, so we can tell Throckmorton, and then he can lock up the perpetrators, except for you.”

“Hedger is my client; I can’t help lock him up.”

“What’s the matter, don’t you enjoy putting away bad guys anymore? Where’s the cop in you?”

“He’s still there, but so is the lawyer.”

Dino sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

Chapter 42

DINO WENT TO GET DRESSED, AND Stone shaved and showered. He was tying his tie when the satellite phone rang.

“It’s Hedger.”

“Good morning.”

“You said you’d have a list of the people at table twelve.”

“Right, let me get it.” Stone retrieved the list, the only fruit of his aborted dinner with Arrington. “Want me to read you the names?”

“Yes.”

Stone did so.

“It’s the Israeli cultural attaché,” Hedger said.

“Why do you think so?”

“Because the governments of Sweden, Australia, Germany, and Belgium do not usually participate in kidnapping innocent Americans off the streets of London. But I wouldn’t put it past the Israelis. What’s his name?”

Stone consulted the list. “David Beth Alachmy.”

“Holy shit.”

“Do you know him?”

“Just of him; he’s very smart, very tough. And his very presence in London means that he’s the new chief of station for the Mossad, the Israeli intelligence service. He’s so new in town that my people didn’t know yet.”

“Then the two ‘Greeks’ were Israelis?”

“Probably. You said you had a contact in the London police; why don’t you ask him?”

“He and I are not on cordial terms at the moment.”

“Why not?”

“He thinks I was involved in the murder of the two Israelis.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Because one of them was wearing my raincoat.”

“How the hell—”

“I took off the raincoat when I was doing my little survey of Lance Cabot’s house, and apparently when I left, I picked up the wrong coat. The murderer dressed one of the two corpses in mine.”

“Oh, swell, now you’ve come to the attention of the local police.”

“You could say that.”

“That greatly reduces your value to me.”

“You expect me to feel guilty about that? Let me remind you that I came to their attention while trying to get information for you.”

“In the old days, we’d have just shot you; as it is, I’ll have to fire you.”

“As you wish—you’ll recall that I’ve already resigned once.”

“This time let’s make it permanent; I can’t have anything more to do with you.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with a continuing hotel bill.”

“Why is that? As far as I’m concerned, you can get on the next airplane out of here.”

“Not at the moment; the police have taken my passport. When I went to the airport yesterday to, ah, see off a friend, they dragged me out and sent me back to the Connaught.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, pal, you’re on your own.”

“You can discuss it with the accounting department at Woodman and Weld,” Stone said. “And while you’re at it, remember that I’ve been on double my hourly rate for a while.”

“Not anymore; as I said, you’re fired.” Hedger hung up.

Dino came into the room, dressed. “Who was that?”

“Hedger; when he heard the police were interested in me, he fired me.”

“Well, I hope you don’t still feel any loyalty to him.”

“He’s not my client anymore.”

“So fuck him and the horse he rode in on.”

“Yep.”

“Let’s call Throckmorton and tell him who beat up Bobby Jones.”

“He already knows Hedger was behind it; Ted Cricket would have told him; he just can’t prove that Hedger sicced the hoods onto Jones.”

“Oh. Well, what are you going to do today?”

“I don’t know; what were you going to do?”

“I was going to follow you around at a safe distance, to see if anybody else was following you.”

“Good idea; I guess I’d better go somewhere.”

“Got any ideas?”

“Why don’t I take Lance Cabot to lunch?”

“Someplace good, I hope.”

Stone picked up the phone and called Lance’s number.

Erica answered. “Oh, hello, Stone,” she said brightly. “How are you?”

“Very well, thanks; is Lance there?”

“Sure, just a minute.”

“Good morning, Stone,” Lance said.

“Good morning; are you free for lunch today?”

“Sure; where?”

“The Connaughtgrill, at twelve-thirty?”

“See you then.”

Stone hung up.

“What do you hope to accomplish by having lunch with him?” Dino asked.

“A few days ago, he tried to bring me into some sort of business deal; I blew him off at the time, but now I feel more receptive. Also, it will give you a good look at Lance; I’ll get you a table, too.” He called downstairs and made the reservations.

Stone arrived in the grill on time; Dino was already seated a couple of tables away from his own; Lance showed up five minutes later.

“Well, what’s up?” Lance asked, after they had ordered lunch.

“Last weekend, you asked me to do some legal work for you in New York.”

“Yes, but you weren’t interested; I accept that.”

“Now I’m interested.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I have some time on my hands here. I won’t do the legal work myself, but I’ll give you the name of a man who can handle it. I’m more interested in participating in the business end of the, ah, transaction.”

“You mean you want a piece of the action?”

“If I like the action.”

“I assume you’d be willing to make an investment?”

“That depends on what the deal is and how big an investment you want.”

“Could you come up with a quarter of a million dollars?”

“If I were sufficiently motivated.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Lance laughed. “I’m not sure that I know everything.”

“Let’s start with what you know.”

“All right; I propose to buy some items in England or elsewhere in Europe and sell them to someone in another part of the world for a large profit.”

“How much will you pay for them and what will you sell them for?”

“I expect to pay in the region of half a million dollars for these items, and I expect to sell them for around two million, maybe a bit more.”

“That is a very nice profit indeed. And exactly what are the items?”

“I’m not at liberty to tell you just yet.”

“You understand that I will be unwilling to make the investment until I know?”

“Of course; I don’t think you’re a fool, Stone.”

“Can you give me a general idea?”

“Let’s just say that the goods are of a scientific nature, and that the buyers are lovers of science.”

“Are Ali and Sheila part of this deal?”

“A very important part. They will act as liaison between the sellers and the buyers.”

“Why can’t you do it yourself?”

“Let’s just say that I’m of the wrong nationality, ethnicity, and religion. Ali and Sheila are critical to the success of the transaction.”

Stone took a card from his wallet and wrote a name and telephone number on the back of it. “This is a lawyer in New York who will handle your legal work. But for the record, this is the only part of the transaction that I will ever admit taking part in—a simple reference.”

“I quite understand.”

“Apart from the nature of the goods and the name of the buyer, I will require a means of making my share of the profit bankable and spendable, without attracting the attention of any government agency anywhere.”

“I quite understand. I have such an arrangement already in place, and you may avail yourself of it.”

“When will this happen, and when can you tell me more about it?”

“Once I give the go-ahead, it will take only two or three days to conclude the transaction. The items in question have already been manufactured and will be transported as soon as I transfer the funds to the maker. How soon can you produce your quarter of a million?”

“What do you mean by ‘produce’? Where and when?”

“I mean wire-transfer the funds to an offshore bank, which I will specify.”

“As soon as I know all the details of what you’re delivering and to whom. The funds are currently in a money market fund, awaiting investment. All it will take for delivery is a coded fax to my broker.”

“I like your style, Stone.”

“All we need to know now is if I like yours.”

“I’ll talk to some people and be in touch shortly.”

They raised their glasses in a silent toast, then went back to finishing their lunch.

Stone glanced across the small room at Dino. He was enjoying his lunch immensely.

Chapter 43

STONE SAID GOODBYE TO LANCE ON the steps of the Connaught, then set off down Mount Street toward Berkeley Square, walking slowly, so that Dino could follow, window-shopping along the way. It was time to see if anyone was following him.

He walked around the square, letting Dino follow from a distance, and, on a whim, walked into Jack Barclay’s, the Rolls-Royce dealer. A young man approached him immediately.

“Good afternoon, sir. May I help you?”

“I’d like to look at a Bentley, please.” The showroom was a good place from which to spot a tail, with its large windows overlooking Berkeley Square. Stone couldn’t see Dino.

“The Arnage—that’s the saloon car—or the convertible?”

“The Arnage.”

“This way.” He led Stone across the large sales floor. “Would this be for UK use or export?”

“UK,” Stone lied, thinking that the young man would send him to an American dealer if he said otherwise.

“Here we are,” the salesman said, stopping before a gleaming black example of the car. “This one is in black with Autumn upholstery.”

“May I see the engine?”

The salesman opened the car’s hood to reveal a large engine bay, stuffed with equipment.

“What is the displacement and horsepower?” Stone asked, still unable to spot Dino.

“Six point eight liters, turbocharged; four hundred horsepower and six hundred and fifteen pounds of torque, available at low revs.”

“Acceleration and top speed?”

“Zero to sixty miles per hour in five point nine seconds. Unfortunately, the top speed is electronically limited to a hundred and fifty-five miles per hour.”

“Very impressive,” Stone said, opening the driver’s-side door and getting behind the right-side steering wheel. While the salesman droned on about the car’s features, Stone was able to sweep the square from his seat, and he still could not spot Dino. Surely he hadn’t walked too fast. He got out of the car.

“Would you like a brochure?” the salesman asked.

“Yes, thank you, and your card.”

The salesman dropped both into an envelope and handed it to Stone. “We hope to hear from you,” he said.

“Thank you.” Stone walked out into the square; still no sign of Dino on the busy streets. Had he followed at all? He walked back to the Connaught and went up to his suite. He was relaxing, reading the Bentley brochure, when Dino let himself in from next door. Half an hour had passed since Stone returned to the hotel.

“Where have you been?” Stone asked. “Did I move too fast for you?”

“Nope, and not for the four-man team following you, either.”

“There were four men following me?”

“Well, two of the men were women. They were very good, too, working both sides of the street, changing places. I don’t know if I would have made them, if they’d been following me, but since I was following you, it was easier to see what was going on.”

“Any idea of nationality?”

“They didn’t appear ethnic, so I’d say English or American.”

“What about the shoes?”

“The men wore expensive shoes with thin soles, so they’re not cops, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No thick soles and white socks, then?”

“Nope.”

Stone put down his brochure. “My guess is, it’s Hedger’s people.”

“They must want Lance pretty bad.”

“Then why aren’t they following Lance?”

“Maybe they are.”

“Maybe they are, at that; it’s something to keep in mind. What did you think of Lance?”

“What struck me,” Dino said, “was how much alike the two of you are.”

“How do you mean?”

“Jesus, Stone, didn’t you see the guy? He’s waspy, blondish, beautifully dressed. He has that languid look that only very confident people have.”

“Or very good actors.”

“Well, you’re not that confident, and you’re not that good an actor; from my view of the conversation, you were the guy who wanted something, and he was the guy who was going to decide whether you get it.”

“Just the opposite,” Stone said. “He wants a quarter of a million dollars from me, and I’m demanding full disclosure; he’s not ready to tell me yet.”

“Do you have a quarter of a million dollars?”

“Yes, but I’m not about to give it to Lance; he doesn’t know that, of course.”

“You better be careful, Stone; you start promising people money, and they’re liable to get very upset if you don’t come through with it.”

“You have a point.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make a couple of phone calls.”

“And the first one will be to Arrington, won’t it?”

“Oh, shut up and get out of here; I’d like some privacy.”

“I’ll go to my room and see if there’s a cricket game on TV.”

“Cricket match.”

“Whatever.” Dino went to his own room.

Stone picked up the phone and dialed the number of the Carlyle hotel in New York, which was lodged in his memory, and asked for Mrs. Calder. The phone rang several times, and then the voice mail kicked in.

“Arrington, it’s Stone. I want to apologize for the other evening; it was inexcusable leaving you like that, but I really didn’t have a choice. I tried to catch up with you at Heathrow, but you got through security before I could. I’d like to explain, if you’ll let me. I’d also like to see you again, but I won’t be back in New York for at least a few more days. Please call me at the Connaught.” He left the number and hung up, then he got out his address book and called Samuel Bernard at his home in Washington Square.

“Good morning, Stone,” the old man said, “or good afternoon, if you’re still in London.”

“I’m still in London, sir, and I wanted to ask for some more advice.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Bartholomew is Hedger, as you suspected, and he and I have parted company.”

“Why?”

“I’ve come to the attention of the local police on a related matter, and that put him off.”

“I can see how it might,” Bernard said.

“I had thought that Hedger was working outside his agency, for personal reasons, but today I was followed by a four-man team who seem to be either British or American, probably American.”

“It’s unlikely that he would have so many people at his disposal, if he were working on his own,” Bernard said.

“That’s what I figured. Now I have another problem: I’ve learned about something that I think should be brought to the attention of some authority, but I don’t trust Hedger. Is it possible that you could connect me with someone at your former employer’s that I could talk to without Hedger finding out?”

“I think that would be very dangerous, Stone; I don’t know what’s going on internally at the Company at this moment, so it’s difficult to ascertain how much official support Hedger has. Even if I found someone for you to speak to, there’s no guarantee that he wouldn’t go straight to Hedger. And he wouldn’t be in London, either. If anything happens in the London station, Hedger is going to know it, because if he’s not actually station head, he’ll be very close to whoever is. Why don’t you want to go directly to Hedger?”

“I just don’t trust him; he’s lied to me a lot.”

“That’s what agents do; it’s not surprising.”

“I don’t yet know enough about what’s going on to know whether I might be hurting someone who’s innocent of any wrongdoing.”

“Can you give me a general idea of what’s happening?”

Stone recounted his conversation with Lance, without mentioning names.

“It sounds as if your acquaintance is going to sell something important to a foreign government or more informal organization, that our government, or at least Hedger, doesn’t want them to have. Are you actually going to put up this money?”

“I don’t know.”

“I warn you, if you do, you may involve yourself in this matter in an inextricable way.”

“I’d much rather contact some agency that could support me in this.”

Bernard was silent for a moment. “If you don’t trust Hedger, then I think you should go to the British.”

“Can you give me a name?”

“I’ll give someone yours,” Bernard said. “If you get a call from someone who says he’s a friend of Sam’s, see him.”

“Thank you, sir,” Stone said.

“Keep me posted,” Bernard replied. “I’m beginning to enjoy this.”

Stone hung up the phone, laughing.

Chapter 44

STONE HAD EXPECTED TO GET A CALL from someone soon, but it didn’t come. He didn’t see any point in going out, just to be followed, so he stayed home, looking in on Dino to find him snoring away. Maybe he wasn’t immune to jet lag, after all. Stone found a movie on TV and settled in.

Early in the evening, Dino came into the suite, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know what happened,” he said. “I was watching cricket, and then I practically passed out.”

“Jet lag.”

“If you say so. You hungry?”

“Almost. You want to order dinner now, or wait for a while.”

“You don’t want to go out?”

“Not really.”

Stone heard an odd noise, and he turned to see an envelope being slid under the door.

“Looks like a message for you,” Dino said.

“That’s not one of the Connaught’s message envelopes,” Stone said, staring at it.

“Well, are you going to open it? The suspense is killing me.” Dino yawned.

Stone retrieved the envelope, which had nothing written on it. He opened it and took out a single sheet of paper. Written in block capitals was a message: AFTER TEN MINUTES TAKE THE WEST LIFT UP ONE FLOOR, TURN LEFT OUT OF THE LIFT, AND WALK TO THE END OF THE CORRIDOR. THE DOOR WILL BE AJAR. It was unsigned. He handed it to Dino, who read it and smiled.

“I love this kind of stuff,” he chuckled. “You have any idea who it’s from? A woman, I’ll bet.”

“I don’t think so,” Stone said. “I called a friend and asked to be introduced to somebody on this side of the water. I think this is it.”

“Whatever you say; I still think it’s a woman. It always is with you.”

After ten minutes, Stone did as he was told. He figured out which sides of the hotel the two elevators were on, then took the west one up a flight and walked down the corridor. A door at the end was ajar. He rapped lightly and walked in. “Hello?”

He was standing in a small vestibule with three doors. One of them opened and a woman smiled at him. “Mr. Barrington?” She was of medium height, wearing a gray business suit and lightweight horn-rimmed glasses, dark hair. Stone thought she’d be quite pretty without the glasses and with a little more makeup. “Yes,” he said.

She opened the door to reveal a large sitting room. “Please come in and have a seat; he’ll be with you shortly. May I get you something to drink?”

“Some fizzy water would be nice,” he replied.

She went to a cabinet at one side of the large room, opened it to reveal a full bar, and poured two glasses of San Pellegrino mineral water.

She returned to where Stone was sitting, handed him a glass, and sat down. “My name is Carpenter,” she said. Her accent was clipped, of indistinguishable class, at least to him.

“How do you do?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“For whom are we waiting?”

“For me, old chap,” a voice said from behind him. He turned to find a man in his mid-thirties entering the room, apparently from the bedroom. He was dressed in a severely cut pin-striped suit, and what Stone imagined was a club tie, though he didn’t know which club. It was dark blue or black, with a single sky-blue stripe.

“Thank you for coming up,” he said briskly. “Sorry to be so cloak-and-dagger, but from what our mutual friend, Sam, told me, you’ve picked up a rather elaborate tail.” His accent was terribly upper-class.

“It seems so.”

“My name is Mason.” He didn’t offer to shake hands. Instead, he went to the bar, poured himself a Scotch, no ice, then sat down opposite Stone. “Sounds as though you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in something.”

“How much did our friend tell you?”

“Why don’t you tell me the whole thing from the very start?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you already know? It would save me repeating myself.”

Mason smiled tightly. “You’re a cautious chap, aren’t you?”

Stone shrugged.

“Apparently, you think somebody wants to sell something he shouldn’t be selling to someone who shouldn’t be buying it. That sum it up?”

“Pretty much.”

“And you’ve fallen out with Stan Hedger, whom you don’t trust anymore, right?”

“Pretty much.”

“But you came to London at his request.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve attracted the attention of the police. How, may I ask?”

“You may have read in the papers about two gentlemen found dead in the trunk of a car in Hyde Park?”

“I heard of it less than an hour after they were discovered. Are you connected to that incident in some way?”

“One of them was wearing my raincoat.”

Mason burst out laughing. “Goodness, that would put the coppers onto you, wouldn’t it. Who’s the man in charge, if you know his name?”

“Detective Inspector Evelyn Throckmorton.”

“Oh, yes, he’s all right.”

“I was already acquainted with him.”

“How?”

“I used to be a police detective in New York; a friend of mine on the force introduced me to him.”

“Nice to have an introduction in a strange city, isn’t it? Well, I think you should forget about the detective inspector and put your trust in me, from here on in,” Mason said. “Sam thought so, too.”

“All right.”

Carpenter got up, went to a briefcase on a table, took out a small tape recorder, set it on the coffee table, and switched it on; then she sat back and prepared to listen.

Mason made a motion that Stone should continue.

Stone looked at the recorder, then at Carpenter, then Mason. He shook his head slowly.

Mason leaned forward and switched off the recorder. “My, my, you are cautious, aren’t you?”

Stone nodded. “I wouldn’t like to hear this conversation played back to me in a courtroom someday.”

“Entirely understandable,” Mason said. “You’re a lawyer, Sam tells me.”

“Right.”

“Well, let me put your mind at rest, Mr. Barrington; Carpenter and I are not the police; the organization we work for conducts its business without reference to the police, unless we need them for some small chore or other. Tell me, just between us. Do you believe that you may have committed a crime while in Britain?”

“I didn’t shoot those two men, if that’s what you mean.”

“Anything else? Drug smuggling? Rape? Incest? Cross the street without looking both ways?”

“No, nothing.”

“You didn’t boot poor James Cutler off that yacht, did you?”

“No.”

“That’s what I heard; heard you did your damnedest to save the poor chap.”

“I got wet.”

Mason leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and his voice changed, lowered, became friendlier. “Relax, Stone,” he said. “We’re here to help. Start at the beginning, now.”

Stone took a deep breath and, once more, started at the beginning.

Chapter 45

WHEN STONE HAD FINISHED TELLING them everything, Mason just stared at him for a long moment. “Extraordinary,” he drawled.

Stone looked at Carpenter; she nodded.

“Rather,” she said.

He wasn’t sure whether this meant they didn’t believe him. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Well, let me tell you a few things: First, David Beth Alachmy is the new Mossad station chief in London; old Stan was right about that; second, the two chaps in the car were Beth Alachmy’s men; third, the abduction and interrogation of you by Beth Alachmy and his thugs was way, way out of bounds, and I will see that he is suitably punished for it.”

“Thank you, but I don’t really care about that,” Stone replied. “I just want to get this thing over with and get back to New York.”

“Our sentiments exactly,” Mason said. “I hope we can have you out of here in just a few days.”

“Thank you.”

“We’re aware of Lance Cabot and his little consulting business, but this is the first we’ve heard of Ali and Sheila; we’ll be looking into them.”

“Fine.”

“Oh, I assume you do actually have the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars that Cabot wants for his project?”

“Well, yes, in a brokerage account in New York.”

“I think the very first thing you’ll want to do is have that transferred to the offshore account, as Cabot requested.”

“But—”

“Oh, don’t actually give it to him; just let him confirm that you’ve got it in the account. When we’re done, you can wire it back to your brokerage account.”

“I suppose—”

“Now, the first thing we’ve got to do is to get you out of this hotel.”

“Why?” Stone asked plaintively. “I like it here.”

“Because Stan’s people know where to find you, and they can follow you anywhere from here,” Mason said, as if he were explaining things to a child. “Do you have somewhere you can go?”

Stone thought for a moment. “Let me make a phone call.”

“Of course.”

He picked up a phone and called Sarah at her London flat.

“Hi.”

“Well, hello; I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Have our mutual acquaintances cleared out of James’s house?”

“Yes, all gone.”

“Do you mind if Dino and I move in there for a few days? I’ve got to get out of the Connaught; they’re booked up, apparently.”

“Dino’s in London?”

“Yes.”

“Well, of course you can stay there; when do you want to go?”

“Immediately.”

“All right; why don’t I cook us all some dinner over there? James has a decent kitchen, and I can pick up some things on the way.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“See you in an hour?”

“That’s good. Bye.” He hung up and turned to Mason. “We can go to James Cutler’s house in Chester Street.”

“Ah yes, good,” Mason said. “Who is Dino?”

“Dino Bacchetti, my old partner at the NYPD. He got into town yesterday.”

“All right, then; you go and get packed up, and I’ll send someone for your luggage. I believe your bill is going to Stan Hedger?”

“Yes.”

“Good, that solves that. We’ll be taking you out of the hotel by a rear exit.”

“Fine.”

“Oh, by the way, Sam asked me to ask you if Hedger ever gave you any sort of electronic device—a radio, a pager, a clock—to carry around with you?”

“Yes, he gave me a satellite telephone.”

“You’ll want to give that to me; he’s been using it to track your whereabouts.”

Stone felt like a complete ass. “All right.”

“I’ll come and get you in, say, three-quarters of an hour.”

“Good.” Stone left the suite and went back to his own.

Dino was still watching cricket. “You know, I think I’m beginning to get the hang of this game.”

“It’s an illusion; no American will ever understand it.”

“You ready for some dinner?”

“Yes, but Sarah is cooking it for us; get packed, we’re moving out of the hotel.”

“But I like it here,” Dino said. “It’s nice—you push a button and somebody comes to take care of you.”

“I’ve just had a meeting with some British intelligence people, and they want us out of here; they say it’s the only way we’ll ever lose the tail that Hedger put on us.”

“We’re going right now?”

“Very shortly; just get your luggage ready to go.”

Dino switched off the cricket match with reluctance.

At the appointed time, the porter rapped on their door. “Good evening, Mr. Barrington. I’m to take your bags down to the kitchen.”

“There they are,” Stone said, pointing to the pile. “Mr. Bacchetti’s, too.”

“There’s a lady waiting for you at the lift.”

Stone and Dino walked to the elevator, where Carpenter was waiting for them, the door open. He introduced Dino.

Once in the elevator, Carpenter inserted a key into a lock and turned it. “This will get us to the lower level,” she said.

Stone watched her on the way down; she really was very attractive, in her muted way. The lift doors opened, and Carpenter led them down a hallway, past the kitchens, and out a rear door. There were three identical gray vans waiting outside, and the porter was loading their luggage into the middle one.

Mason appeared from behind them. “Give me Hedger’s phone,” he said.

Stone took the phone from an inside pocket and handed it to him.

Mason looked around him, then spotted a truck unloading seafood for the hotel. He tossed the phone over the crates of fish into the rear of the truck. “There,” he said. “That will keep your tail busy. Get into the center van.”

Stone and Dino climbed into the rear seat with Carpenter, while Mason got into the front.

“We’ll wait until the fish lorry goes,” he said.

As if on command, the truck started up and moved out of the mews, then turned right at the street.

“Wait,” Mason said. “Let them register the move.” He glanced at his watch. Two minutes passed, then Mason said, “Now; turn left at the end.”

The three vans moved out.

“Why do I feel like a load of laundry?” Dino asked.

“This would be your policeman friend?” Mason asked.

“Yes,” Stone said. “This is Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, of the New York Police Department.”

“Enchanted,” Mason drawled, without turning around.

“Yeah, me too,” Dino said.

The three vans drove into Grosvenor Square and at the next corner, each went in a different direction, none of them toward James’s house.

“The house is in Chester Street, off Belgrave Square,” Stone reminded Mason.

“I know, old chap,” Mason said. “We’re just going to lead any possible tail on a merry chase before we turn for home. I’ve visited the house, actually. James Cutler and I were at Eton together a couple of hundred years ago. He was a good chap, and I’m grateful to you for what you tried to do for him.” He paused. “I’m not so sure about this Miss Sarah Buckminster.”

Dino dug Stone in the ribs.

Chapter 46

THEY ARRIVED AT THE CHESTER STREET house, and the van’s driver set Stone’s and Dino’s luggage on the sidewalk.

“We won’t come in,” Mason said. He handed Stone a tiny cellphone, its charger, and an extra battery. “If anyone asks, you rented this through the concierge at the Connaught.” He handed Stone an index card with a list of numbers written on it. “These are my and Carpenter’s cellphone numbers,” he said. “If there’s no answer, you’ll have an opportunity to leave a message, and one of us will get back to you quickly. I suggest you memorize them and destroy the card. Your number is there, too.”

“All right,” Stone said, pocketing the phone and the card.

“Tomorrow morning, call Lance Cabot and tell him you’ve arranged with your broker to have the quarter of a million transferred at a moment’s notice, pending Cabot’s satisfying you with the details of the transaction. When he tells you, I suggest you be somewhat less scrupulous than you’ve been so far; don’t be shocked at what the goods turn out to be or to whom they’re to be sold. The more of a buccaneer you seem to be, the more Cabot will be interested in doing business with you. Meantime, we’ll be doing a complete background check on Cabot, Ali, and Sheila.”

“Sounds good,” Stone said.

“Don’t leave the house without telling me, and on a few minutes’ notice, I can provide any transportation you may need. From now on, I want your only tail to be my people.”

“Thank you,” Stone said. He and Dino got out of the van, and it drove away. They trudged up the steps with their luggage and rang the bell.

Sarah answered and threw herself at Dino. “How are you, darling?” she asked. “And how’s Mary Ann?”

“We’re all just great,” Dino said, beaming at her.

“Come on in and get your things put away.” She led them up the stairs. “Dino, you’re in there, and Stone, you come with me.” She led him to a rear bedroom, obviously the master, and then she gave him a long and tantalizing kiss. “Get unpacked and come downstairs; dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

Stone hung up his clothes and put his toiletries in the bathroom, which was large and old, wall-to-wall marble.

The three of them sat around the kitchen table eating lamb chops and drinking an outstanding claret from James’s cellar.

“You won’t believe the wine that’s down there,” she said. “I don’t think that any lot of really fine wine passed through the business that James didn’t grab a case or two of for himself.”

Stone looked at the bottle: a Chateau Haut-Brion ’66. “I never thought I’d be drinking this,” he said.

“Stick around,” Sarah said. “I’ll ruin your liver for you.”

“Sarah, you’re not to tell anyone that Dino and I are staying here.”

“And why not?”

“Because I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Dear, don’t be so old-fashioned.”

“That’s not what I mean. I’m involved in some very delicate business, and the competition is unscrupulous. I don’t want them to know my whereabouts. If someone should call you asking for me, you can tell them I’ve moved from the Connaught, but you don’t know where.”

“Oh, all right, if you say so. It’s all very cloak-and-dagger, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” More than she knew.

After dinner and brandy, Stone went upstairs and turned on the taps in the huge, old-fashioned bathtub. He had just settled in for a soak, with the lights dimmed, when Sarah came into the bathroom. She was quite naked, and it was the first good look he’d had at her that way for a long time.

“How about some company?” she said, sliding into the tub, facing him.

“Mmmm,” he replied, closing his eyes.

A moment later, he felt her hand on his crotch.

“I think we have to get this clean,” she said, and she began soaping it.

Stone held onto the sides of the tub.

“Now it’s clean,” she said, “and we have to get it warm.” She climbed on top of him and brought him inside her. “There,” she sighed. She began moving, slowly, in and out.

Stone responded favorably.

She reached behind her and took his testicles in her hand, still moving, now massaging gently.

Stone sat up and put his arms around her, cupping her buttocks in his hands, helping her move.

“Don’t you dare come before me,” she breathed, moving faster.

Stone ran a finger down between her cheeks, letting it pass lightly back and forth over her anus, then he inserted a finger.

Sarah came explosively, and he was right behind her. They writhed in the tub until they were both spent, then she put her head on his shoulder and wrapped herself around him. “I love a hot bath, don’t you?” she said.

“Oh, yes,” Stone replied. “I don’t know why anyone ever bothered inventing the shower.”

They stayed that way until the water began to get cold, then they dried each other and went into the bedroom, where they started over, this time with Stone on top.

Sarah lifted her legs and put her ankles on Stone’s shoulders. “Now,” she said, “all the way in.”

Stone gave her everything. They lasted longer this time, changing positions, trying this and that—every orifice, every erotic pressure point, until in one final, earth-rocking spasm, they gave in to the climax, both crying out.

From down the hall, Stone heard Dino’s voice.

“Can you two hold it down a little? A guy could get horny.”

“Want me to go take care of that?” Sarah asked Stone from his shoulder.

“Remember Mary Ann,” Stone said. “She’d track you down and kill you. Never underestimate a Sicilian woman.”

“Good point,” Sarah said, and they fell asleep.

Chapter 47

AFTER BREAKFAST, SARAH LEFT THE house, and Stone called Lance Cabot.

“Hello?” He sounded sleepy.

“It’s Stone; I’m ready to deal on this thing, if you’re ready to talk.”

“How soon can you get the money together?”

“I faxed my broker yesterday; the funds can be transferred with a phone call. But not until you’ve told me everything.”

“Lunch?”

“Where?”