Shakeup

42

Eddie Craft followed Alfie Bing into a nondescript saloon car housed in his flat’s garage. Alfie handed Eddie a zippered leather case. “Hang on to my tools,” he said.

They drove the few streets to Wilton Crescent, where the lights in the window of the subject house still burned. Alfie drove past the house in question, then turned into a mews with an electric gate. He took a remote control from the tool kit, clicked it, and the gate’s bar rose. “A gift from a mate who tends bar at the Grenadier pub at the end of the mews,” he explained.

The mews, Wilton Row, was lit by a pair of dim street lamps, just enough light for a drunk to stagger home without stubbing his toe on a paving stone.

Eddie parked the car and led the way to a small door next to the garage. “When this opens,” Alfie said, “I’ve got to run very fast to the control box on the landing. Your job is to quickly close the door when you’re inside. Ready?”

Eddie nodded. “Right.”

Alfie picked the lock, and the door opened. He ran as fast as he could up the stairs to the landing, while Eddie closed the door as instructed. Alfie opened the box and took out a coding device, fastening it to terminals in the control box with alligator clips. He turned on the instrument, and it began to search for a code at a very fast clip.

Eddie watched the numbers fly. “It’s not finding it,” he said.

“Patience, my son.”

The device found a number, and Alfie tapped it in. “Okay, we’re in. Follow me.”

Eddie followed Alfie up the stairs, and they emerged into a darkened hallway. There was a night-light burning green near the floor, nothing else.

“You see?” Afie asked. “It works the same way, down at the house in Hampshire.”

“Okay,” Eddie said. “I’m sold.”

They backtracked, reset the control box with the code, and left in Alfie’s car.

“Now, I’ve got one final advantage to show you,” Alfie said. “When we get home.”

Stone and Maren had just collapsed into each other’s arms when his cell phone rang.

“Don’t get that,” Maren said.

“It’s a scrambled line,” he said. “It only rings if it’s important.” He picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“Stone?” Familiar voice and accent.

“Felicity?”

“Yes, my darling.”

Maren covered the phone with her hand. “Is that Felicity Devonshire?” she asked.

“Please be very quiet,” Stone said. He got up and went into his dressing room. “How are you?”

“I’m very well, thank you, but I’ve just had a call from one of our security patrol cars in Belgravia.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. The lamps in your front window are out.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means?”

“It’s not a code word. It means that the two lamps in your front window, which should be burning, are not.”

“Oh. Is that bad?”

“They are wired into the very excellent security system that we installed in your Wilton Crescent house. The only thing that will turn them off is entering the six-digit security code into one of the control boxes.”

“I see.”

“Not really,” she said. “This is very worrying. I called to find out if you want me to send a team into the house.”

“I guess,” Stone said.

“Or, would you rather have your house looted?”

“Please, send in a team,” Stone said.

“It shall be done. I’ll call you back after breakfast.” She hung up.

Right, he thought. Five-hour time difference.

“You come back here,” Maren ordered.

Stone followed her instructions.

“Now, what are you doing receiving phone calls from the head of Britain’s MI6 security service in the middle of the night?”

“It’s not the middle of the night there,” Stone said.

“Did I ever tell you what a jealous woman I am?” Maren asked, kittenishly.

“No reason to be concerned,” Stone said. “The security system at my London house may have been breached.”

“Why would that concern the head of MI6?”

“They installed the equipment, and they have instructions to call her if there is a breach.”

“Is someone in the house?”

“I don’t know. She’s sending a team to find out, then she’ll call me back after breakfast.”

“Breakfast tomorrow?”

“No, they’re five hours ahead of us.”

“Oh, right.”

She pulled him back onto the bed. “Let me see if I can make you forget all about that.”

She did, until the phone rang again. Stone took it into the dressing room. “Yes?”

“The house had been entered, but nothing had been disturbed. The team compared it to the photographs they took a while back.”

“Any explanation?”

“Yes, someone used a device that ran through all possible codes. They reset it two minutes later.”

“Why would someone want to be in my house for two minutes?” Stone asked.

“That is known only to those who entered,” she said. “Now, rejoin whoever is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Felicity. I’m grateful to you.” But she had already hung up.

Stone was awakened by the bell on the dumbwaiter.

“Breakfast!” Maren sang out cheerfully.

“Yes, breakfast,” Stone said.

“Why do you look worried?” she asked. “Didn’t you sleep well?”

“Not very well,” he said. “I kept waking up, wondering why someone would break into my house in London for two minutes and not take anything.”