Dirty Work

55

Stone and Dino sat in Dino’s car outside the Carlyle, while Dino made a phone call. “Sir, it’s Bacchetti. We’ve found out where the woman is staying. She’s in a suite at the Carlyle. . . . Yes, sir, she certainly has good taste. I’ve ordered in a surveillance team. In very short order I’ll have the place covered and a couple of men in the suite next door with a listening device. . . . No, sir, I don’t want to take her in the street or in the lobby. There’s sure to be weapons fired, and we don’t want a mess. I want to let her come home and go to bed. We’ll know when that happens. Then, when she orders breakfast in the morning or leaves her suite, we’ll be waiting. I think we can take her clean. . . . Yes, sir, I know how important that is. I’ll call you the minute anything happens.” Dino hung up. “He’s not going to get any sleep tonight,” he said.

“I expect not,” Stone replied.

Dino’s driver returned with a paper bag holding coffee.

“We may as well make ourselves comfortable,” Dino said.

“I had a thought,” Stone said. “Suppose she’s in the café, listening to Bobby Short?”

Dino snorted. “Not everybody has your weird taste in music, Stone.”

The ride up in the elevator seemed a long one.

“I’m in the Towers,” Purdue explained. “The government rents an entire floor, where the UN delegation stays, and there are apartments for visiting dignitaries, including a presidential suite.”

“How interesting,” Marie-Thérèse said. “Who’s in residence at the moment?”

“I’m the only one of the delegation in town. Most of the others arrive tomorrow, for the opening of the Security Coucil session. I saw the director of the FBI in the elevator earlier, though, so I guess he’s staying. I’ll bet he’s commandeered the presidential suite.”

Marie-Thérèse laughed aloud.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just that I never thought I’d be this close to the director of the FBI.”

The elevator stopped, and they got out. A man in a dark suit holding a clipboard stopped them.

“It’s all right,” Purdue said, “the lady’s with me.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to see her ID, sir,” the guard said.

“No problem,” Marie-Thérèse said, digging out her wallet and her Texas driver’s license.

The man wrote her name down and noted the time, then returned the license to her. “Sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am,” he said.

“Right this way,” Purdue said, taking her elbow. They walked a few steps and he led them into a suite, tossing his keycard onto a table in the entrance hall.

“Very nice,” she said, looking around. It wasn’t big, but it was certainly elegant. “Where’s the bedroom?”

“A woman after my own heart. Right this way.” He led the way into the bedroom.

She unzipped her dress. “I want to hang this up,” she said, “since I’ll be wearing it tomorrow morning.”

“Right over there,” he said, pointing at a closet, then he went into the bathroom. “Excuse me a second.”

Marie-Thérèse opened the closet door to find a small collection of outfits. She plucked one off the rack and held it up to her. “Not bad,” she said aloud.

“Don’t mess with my wife’s things,” he said, coming out of the bathroom. “She’d notice, believe me.”

“Don’t worry, sugar,” she replied, hanging up the dress. “I won’t disturb a thing. Tell me, have you got an early day tomorrow?”

“Nah, the session doesn’t open until after lunch. We can sleep in, if you like.”

“Oh, good,” she said, hanging her dress in the closet and shedding her underwear. “You ready for me, sugar?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She slid into bed with him. This wouldn’t take long, then she could get a good night’s sleep.

Stone’s cell phone vibrated. “Hello?”

“It’s Carpenter.”

“Hi, there.”

“Turns out we’re in the presidential suite, but I’ve managed to get a room with a lock on the door that opens into the hallway. Why don’t you join me?”

“I can’t, but you’re going to like my news.”

“What’s that?”

“She’s staying at the Carlyle. Dino’s people have got her suite staked out now. They’ll wait for her to come home and go to sleep, then take her in the morning.”

“God, that’s a relief,” Carpenter said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait her out in the presidential suite?”

“I want to be here. You sleep well, and we’ll talk in the morning.” Stone hung up. “Carpenter’s staying in the presidential suite of the Waldorf Towers, with the director.”

Dino laughed.

“She says there’s a lock on her door.”

Carpenter called Mason.

“Hello,” he panted, on the fourth ring.

“You sound a little winded,” she said.

“What is it, Carpenter? I’m busy.”

“The director wants a meeting tomorrow morning at eight. Think you can manage that?”

“I expect so. Can I go now?”

“I should have talked with the home secretary by then.”

“How nice for you. Good night.” He hung up and returned to his FBI agent.

The following morning at eight o’clock, Carpenter took her seat at the suite’s dining room table. Mason had been on time, though he looked a little worse for the wear, and he was wearing the same suit and shirt as the day before.

“All right, let’s get started,” the director said.

Carpenter’s phone rang. “Excuse me, sir.” She stepped away from the table and opened the phone. “Yes?”

“It’s Stone.”

“What happened?”

“She didn’t come home last night.”

“Oh. I’ll report that and call you later.” She closed the phone and sat down.

“Anything?” the director asked her.

“I’m afraid there’s bad news, sir. As I mentioned earlier, the NYPD had her located in a suite in the Carlyle hotel. They staked it out, but she didn’t come home last night.”

“Shit,” the director said. “I thought we had her.”

“So did I, sir.”

“I wonder where she is at this moment,” he mused.