Strategic Moves

FIFTY-NINE

Stone was at Elaine’s with Dino when Lance Cabot walked in and, without a word, sat down, waving at a waiter. He did not speak until an icy martini sat before him.

Stone and Dino exchanged a glance.

“Good evening, Lance,” Dino said.

“Is it?”

“It was until a moment ago,” Stone said. “What do you want?”

“Peace on Earth,” Lance replied, speaking into his martini, “or at least in this little corner of the earth.”

Stone had never seen Lance so dejected, and he fought the tendency to feel sorry for him. “All right, what has disturbed the peace of your corner of the earth this evening?”

“I did it to myself,” Lance said.

Dino spoke up. “This man is an impostor. The real Lance Cabot would never say a thing like that.”

“I agree,” Stone said. “Are you feeling bad about sending that nice young fellow Todd Bacon off to the Aleutians?”

Lance brightened visibly. “No, I didn’t send him to the Aleutians after all,” he said. “Instead, I sent him back to the Farm for torture-resistance training. That way, he will actually be tortured.”

“Oh,” Stone said, reluctantly admiring the way Lance’s mind worked.

“I’m feeling better,” Lance said, downing the remains of his martini and waving for another.

“I’m glad we could be of help,” Stone said.

“Where is Pablo now?” Lance asked.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Frankly, I thought I had overreacted to the idea of a threat against him when I assigned those Strategic Services people to protect him, but it turns out there really is a threat.”

“Uh-oh,” Dino said.

“Funny, that’s what I said when I heard,” Lance said.

“Heard what?” Stone asked.

“The boys over at NSA have picked up more satphone chatter about him.”

“And what was the source of the chatter?”

“Northwestern Pakistan,” Lance replied. “Less than forty miles from the former cave facility at Tora Bora.”

“Speaking of Tora Bora, any more news?”

“Estimates are that we killed about two hundred of the bastards in the bombing raid,” Lance said, “and not a few mules.”

“Does any of them have a name?”

“That will take time; we’ll have to count noses—or rather, missing noses.”

“Anything on the condition of bin Laden’s nose?”

“Nothing, as yet.”

“Let’s get back to the chat about Pablo,” Stone said.

“Oh, yes. It seems they have made the connection between Pablo and the bombing raid, and they’re even more furious than usual.”

“And how did they make that connection?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I have my suspicions.”

“And what do you suspect?”

“I suspect that Moishe Aarons—or one of his people—frustrated with their lack of success in laying hands on Pablo, may have leaked the connection to someone who knows someone in that part of the world. News travels fast, even over there.”

“I suppose it does,” Stone said, trying to figure out how to deal with this.

“Mind you,” Lance said, “that is very Machiavellian, even for Moishe.”

Stone was beginning to regret that he had spoken so harshly to Aarons. “Lance,” he said, “do you think that this translates into an immediate threat against Pablo?”

“Oh, yes,” Lance said, as if he had been misunderstood. “If what happened at my brother’s Lake Waramaug house is any indication.”

Stone waved for another bourbon. “All right, what happened at Lake Waramaug?”

“The house was set afire by unknown arsonists about an hour ago. It’s still burning.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No, but the house is going to be a total loss, and I’m going to have to find the money to pay for its rebuilding and the replacement of certain valuable antiques. God, it may take an act of Congress.”

Stone was appalled. “No insurance?”

“Well, yes, but filing a claim would just provoke a lot of unwanted questions from a claim adjuster, and those might find their way to a congressional committee.”

“I see,” Stone said.

“Stone,” Lance said, “if you know where Pablo is, you’d better get him out of the country, and pronto.”

“Pronto,” Stone repeated tonelessly.

“Yes,” Lance said.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Stone said. He went into the empty dining room next door, the one Elaine used for big parties, and called Pablo.

“Yes?”

“It’s Stone.”

“Good evening.”

“What time can your airplane be at the place we discussed?”

“I’m told by the pilot ten a.m. tomorrow morning.”

“Then I need to pick you up at eight a.m. sharp. Where can we meet?”

Pablo gave him an Upper East Side address. “We will be standing just inside the door of the building promptly at eight. What will you be driving?”

“A black Mercedes E55 sedan,” Stone said.

“You sound very concerned,” Pablo said.

“I am, but I can’t tell you any more now. I’ll explain everything on the way to the place.”

“All right,” Pablo said. “Should I be armed?”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Stone said. They said goodbye and hung up.

Stone returned to the table, where Lance and Dino were ordering dinner. “Spinach salad, chopped; rib eye, medium rare,” Stone said to the waiter.

“Did you manage to make contact?”

“Yes,” Stone replied.

“Did you impress upon him the danger he’s in?”

“No,” Stone said, “it would have just made him nervous, and I don’t want him nervous.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Lance asked.

“Please, Lance,” Stone said, “don’t help any more.”