Dirty Work

60

Stone got back to his house around noon. There was a courier package on his doorstep, and he took it inside and dumped it on the hall table. He was exhausted and dispirited, and he was in no mood to read anything. What he needed was sleep.

He left a trail of clothing from the elevator to the bedroom and climbed into bed, pausing only to press the privacy button on his telephone.

When he awoke it was dark outside. The bedside clock said just after eight. He got his feet on the floor, stood up, and walked to the bathroom. Five minutes of hot shower on the back of his neck made him feel nearly human again.

He went back into the bedroom, thinking of food. He hadn’t had anything to eat since the night before. He switched off the privacy button on the phone, and it rang immediately.

“It’s Dino. Get your ass up to Elaine’s.”

“I don’t know, Dino. I just woke up.”

“Carpenter’s leaving. She tried to call you, but I guess you had the phone turned off. She’s stopping by on her way to the airport.”

“All right, I’ll be there.” He hung up, then shaved and got into some clean clothes, still a little fuzzy around the edges. As he was about to leave the house, his eye fell on the package on his front hall table. The return address was the Carlyle hotel. He opened it. Inside were several sheets of paper and a fairly thick envelope.

Stone:

I have the very odd feeling that I am at the end of something, maybe of everything. I wish I could stop, but I can’t, not until I’ve done what I set out to do. I know you think I’m a fool, and you had me convinced of that, until I was faced with the duplicity of the people I oppose. If things go well, I will probably be out of the country by the time you read this. If things go wrong, as I fear they might, then you have your instructions. I have enclosed the name of my lawyer in Zurich. When he is notified, he will know what to do. I wish to be cremated and have my ashes sent to him. Thank you for what you tried to do.

Marie-Thérèse

Stone looked at the attached document, which was neatly typed and notarized. It authorized him to act as her attorney in the United States, before and after her death. Another sheet of paper was a copy of a letter to her Zurich attorney, apprising him of Stone’s involvement in her affairs. He ripped open the envelope to find a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills, the same as the last time she had paid him. He tossed the package onto the table, left the house, and looked for a cab.

Dino was alone when Stone arrived. He sat down, and without a word, Dino shoved a copy of the New York Post across the table, open to a story inside.

STATE DEPARTMENT OFFICIAL

MURDERED AT WALDORF

Jeffrey Purdue, a member of the U.S. delegation to the United Nations, was found shot to death in a suite in the Waldorf Towers this morning. Police sources said that he had picked up Darlene King, a high-priced prostitute, the evening before and had taken her to his suite, and that, after a night together, she had robbed and murdered him.

A maid discovered the body early in the morning and notified police and hotel security. The hotel was locked down and a search conducted, resulting in a confrontation between Ms. King and police. When she pointed a pistol at them, she was shot to death.

“That’s it?” Stone asked. “No reference to what happened at the Four Seasons or to Mason?”

“It’s the clean version,” Dino said. “Only Purdue gets his name in the papers.” Dino threw up his hands. “Don’t look at me. This came from a lot higher up the food chain.”

“Speaking of food,” Stone said, reaching for a menu. A waiter set down a Wild Turkey on the rocks. “Want to share the porterhouse for two?”

“Why not?” Dino said. “I haven’t eaten. Mary Ann is at her father’s.”

“The porterhouse, medium to medium rare,” Stone said to the waiter.

“Make that rare,” Dino said.

“Make it rare on his side,” Stone countered, and the waiter went away.

Carpenter suddenly appeared, looking businesslike in a suit. She sat down.

“Drink? Dinner?” Dino asked.

“Neither. I’ll eat on the airplane.”

“There’s a flight to London this time of night?” Stone asked.

“There’s an RAF airplane waiting for me at Teterboro,” she said. “I’m taking back two bodies as hand baggage.”

“Oh, yes.”

“What will happen to La Biche’s remains?” she asked Dino.

“Potter’s field is my guess.”

“No,” Stone interjected. He told them about the package from Marie-Thérèse. “She wants her ashes sent back to Switzerland.”

“Why don’t you just flush them down the toilet?” Carpenter asked.

“Shut up, Felicity,” Stone said.

“You liked her, didn’t you?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t. I admired . . . some of what she was—determined, even principled, in a way.”

“And you don’t like me anymore?”

“I like you, but I don’t admire you,” Stone said.

“I did what had to be done.”

“No, you did what you had to do; there’s a difference.”

“At least I know that she’s not after me anymore. I can relax now.”

“I don’t know how you can ever relax again,” Stone said.

“I’m quitting, you know.”

“Are you really?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Don’t think about it, just quit. You can’t be a human being again until you do.”

“I wish you understood,” she said.

Stone shrugged. “Like you said, it’s a war; what’s to understand?”

She stood up. “I have to go.” She gave Dino a hug, then turned to Stone.

“I don’t feel like kissing you,” she said.

“Then don’t.”

“Call me when you’re in London?”

“After you’ve retired.”

She gave him a little wave, then left.

They were quiet for a while, sipping their drinks, then Dino finally spoke. “You were too hard on her.”

“Was I?”

“We all have our dirty work to do—Carpenter, me, and you.”

Stone downed the rest of his bourbon and signaled a waiter for another. “I think you’d better order a police car to take me home tonight.”

“It’s waiting outside,” Dino said.

THE END

Mount Desert, Maine, June 26, 2002