Stealth

58

Stone went upstairs to his master suite and, as he entered, caught a glimpse of a half-clothed Rose going into her bathroom. “I’ll be another half hour,” she said.

“That works for me,” he called back. He went into his dressing room, put away his riding clothes and boots, and went into his bath. He shaved, showered, dried his hair, then returned to his dressing room and got into his dinner suit. He returned to the bedroom at the moment Rose emerged in a little black dress that sported deep cleavage, displaying much of her very fine frontage.

Stone kissed her on the cheek, and she felt for his crotch. “I just wanted to see if the dress was having its intended effect,” she said. “And it is.”

Stone took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, then they went downstairs to the library, just as Dame Felicity was walking into the house. Geoffrey, the butler, took her overnight bag and coat, revealing a tight dress that was the same red as her lipstick, and there was yet more cleavage to be viewed.

The two women kissed, to Stone’s surprise, on the lips, lightly enough not to require makeup repair.

“How gorgeous you look,” Felicity said.

“And you,” Rose replied. “I love the dress.”

Stone interrupted. “May I offer anyone an alcoholic beverage?”

“Yes,” they replied, simultaneously. Stone showed them into the library and poured them each an icy vodka gimlet, then one for himself, and served them on a silver cocktail tray. They toasted life, then he went to inspect their dining table. All was in order, and the two bottles of old claret rested on a side table, along with a candlestick, two crystal decanters, and two tasting glasses. All was well, so he returned to the two women, who were occupying the Chesterfield sofa, sitting slightly closer to each other than absolutely necessary, hands touching.

Stone had just sat down when the iPhone on the table next to him rang. He stood and picked it up. “Excuse me, please,” he said to the two women, then he stepped out into the hall. “Yes?”

“Scramble.”

“Scrambled.”

“Why haven’t you returned my calls?” Lance asked, irritably.

“I wasn’t aware that you called,” Stone said. “I was out riding.”

“Stone, it’s important that you keep that phone on your person at all times.”

“I’ll try and remember that,” Stone said. “What’s up?”

“You and Felicity,” Lance replied.

Where does he get this stuff, Stone asked himself. “And exactly what does that mean?”

“It means that we recorded a conversation between two men in London who were apparently discussing the demise of at least one of you, perhaps both. The recording quality was very poor, and we only got part of it.”

“The important part, I hope.”

“I hope, too.”

“What do you suggest?” Stone asked.

“It’s too late to mount a defense at this point. All I can suggest is that you be bloody careful.”

“All right, I’ll do that.”

“Where are you?”

“At Windward Hall. Felicity is here for dinner, along with another friend.”

“Another woman friend?”

“Yes, as it happens.”

“My goodness,” Lance said.

Stone could hear him smiling. “Who were the two men you recorded?”

“One we couldn’t identify, but he was British. The other was Wilfred Thomas, the bookbinder earl, whom we have previously discussed.”

“Right. Is there anything else, Lance? I’d like to return to my guests.”

“Oh, all right, but arm yourself,” Lance said, then hung up.

Stone returned to the library and resumed his seat, but the two women were deep in conversation and ignored him. He hoped it wasn’t going to be that kind of evening.

Geoffrey called them do dinner, and they took their seats. “Shall I decant the wines, sir?”

“Yes, please, but only one bottle. They’re quite old, and I don’t want them to get too much air for too long.”

“Of course, sir. Which one shall I uncork first?”

“Oh, the older one, I guess. That’s what, the Palmer?”

Geoffrey inspected the bottles. “Yes, sir.” He cut away the capsule and went to work with the corkscrew. He uncorked it very carefully, then lit the candle and decanted it slowly. He poured a little into a tasting glass, sniffed it, then placed it before Stone, along with the cork. “I’m afraid the cork isn’t very good, sir.”

Stone picked up the cork, squeezed it, then sniffed. “I’m afraid it’s corked,” he said, squeezing it again. The cork broke in half, but did not separate.

“I thought so, too, sir,” Geoffrey said.

Stone looked at the cork, then pulled on it from each end. The two pieces separated, and he found himself staring at what appeared to be a needle, embedded in the bottom half. He beckoned to Geoffrey and handed him the cork. “Preserve this. Take the wine to the kitchen and recork it. Do not taste it, and do not allow anyone else to.”

“Yes, sir,” Geoffrey said.

“But first, please hand me the Mouton.”

Geoffrey did so; Stone inspected the capsule and found it apparently unbreached. “May I see the Palmer capsule? The top only.”

Geoffrey handed it to him. There was a pinhole in the top.

“Decant the Mouton,” Stone said.

Geoffrey did so, then handed Stone the tasting glass and the cork. Stone inspected the cork and bent it a little, but it did not break.

“Good cork this time,” Geoffrey said. “Excellent nose, too.”

Stone sniffed the glass several times. “I agree.” He tasted the wine and found it full-bodied, complex, and untainted. “Pour this one,” he said, “then deal with the other bottle.”

The women were talking animatedly and seemed unconcerned with the wines.

They finished their dinner and made to take their brandy upstairs. Stone allowed them to precede him. “I’ll be right along,” he said. He went to the gun case, removed one of the brace of Purdey shotguns, and picked up a box of double-aught shells, then followed the women. At the last moment, he remembered Lance’s caution to keep the Agency iPhone with him at all times, and he slipped it into his jacket pocket.

The women were both in Rose’s dressing room, still talking. Stone started to lay the shotgun alongside the bed, and then pushed the gun, barrel first, under the bed. It connected with something and stopped, with the stock still showing. Stone looked underneath, but it was too dark to see anything except what looked like a box. He took a small SureFire flashlight from a bedside drawer and shone it under the bed.

There were two large, leather-bound books stacked there. He read the title, The Short Oxford English Dictionary. Then he saw something else at the bottom of the spines: W. THOMAS.