The Short Forever

“At the Connaught again?”

“I’ve moved out of the Connaught.”

“Why?”

“I discovered yesterday that Hedger had put a tail on me. Last night, I moved to another hotel, a lot farther from the embassy.”

“Which hotel?”

“I’ll keep that to myself.”

“What’s the matter, do you think Hedger and I are in league?”

“I doubt that.”

“How can I reach you?”

“I’ve rented a cellphone.” Stone gave him the number.

“All right, there’s a restaurant out west of London called the Waterside Inn, in a village called Bray; do you know it?”

“I’ll find it.”

“I’ll pick you up, if you like.”

“No, I have some other things to do; I’ll meet you there.”

“One o’clock?”

“Fine.” Stone hung up and called Mason’s number.

“Yes?”

“I’m on for lunch with Cabot at one o’clock.”

“I’ll send one of our taxis.”

“No, it’s at a place called the Waterside Inn, in Bray.”

“Oh, yes; I hope Cabot is paying; the Waterside is not in my budget.”

“It’s his turn. I’m meeting him there; I’ll need a car that passes for a rental, but nothing cheap, please, since Cabot is buying lunch.”

“The car will be outside the house at noon; do you know how to get to Bray?”

“Haven’t a clue.”

“I’ll send along a map.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m also going to wire you.”

“Oh, no you’re not; with Cabot’s background, he’ll know what to look for.”

“Not the way we do it, he won’t; we have something quite new. Someone will be there at half past eleven to equip you; if you don’t like the equipment, you don’t have to wear it, but I urge you to; if Cabot is going to explain himself, we’ll want it recorded.”

“I don’t want a tail of your people, either; he might spot it.”

“There’ll be a van tracking the car and listening to the wire, but it will be at least a mile away, so don’t worry.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good-bye.” Mason hung up.

Dino, who had heard Stone’s half of the conversation, spoke up. “I’ll tail you.”

“No, no; Mason is going to have a van tracking me from a mile away. You take the morning off.”

“And do what?”

Stone tossed him the Times. “There’s a very nice exhibition of Royal evening gowns at the Victoria and AlbertMuseum.”

“Yeah, sure; where can I do some shopping? If I come home without something for Mary Ann, she’ll kill me in my sleep.”

“Try Harrod’s; it’s an easy walk from here.” Stone found a London map in the kitchen and showed Dino Harrod’s. “There’s a really good pub right here, for lunch,” he said, showing him the Grenadier, in Wilton Row. “King’s Road is down here, if you want to do some further shopping; Hyde Park is up here, if you feel like a stroll. It’s all very close together.”

“Okay,” Dino said. “It’s Harrod’s; anything else will have to wait until I see how my feet do. After walking a beat, I swore I’d never walk farther than to the can, if I could help it.”

“There are taxis everywhere.”

“Right. You got any English money? I didn’t have time before I left New York.”

Stone gave him a wad of notes. “Spend it in good health; it’s Hedger’s.”

“That’ll make it more fun,” Dino said.

At eleven-thirty sharp, the doorbell rang, and Stone opened the door to find Carpenter standing there, holding a briefcase. “Come in,” he said.

She smiled, the first time she had exhibited teeth, and they were very nice teeth, indeed. “Thank you.” She stepped in and took a seat in the drawing room. “Horrible decor,” she said, looking around.

“A dead man did it.”

“I’m not surprised. Please bring me the jacket you’re wearing to lunch.”

Stone went away and came back with a blue blazer.

“Nothing with brass buttons,” she said. “You should wear a suit, anyway; the Waterside Inn is quite elegant.”

Stone went away and came back with a suit jacket. She examined the buttons and nodded, then opened her briefcase. She removed a small leather case, which held a selection of buttons. “Oh, good,” she said; “an excellent match.” She took some scissors and snipped off one of the four small buttons on Stone’s left sleeve, then deftly sewed on one of her buttons. “There,” she said. “Good match?”

“Excellent. Do you mean that tiny button is a bug?”

“In conjunction with this,” she said, holding up a fat Mont Blanc pen, made of sterling silver. She clipped it into Stone’s inside left-hand pocket. “The button transmits to the pen, and the pen transmits up to three miles, but we’ll keep the van within two, just to be sure. They pick up the transmission and record it.” She took out the pen and unscrewed the cap. “It’s a working pen, too.”

Stone examined the pen and tried to unscrew the other end.

“You can’t do that without a special tool; don’t worry, it has a fresh rollerball refill inside; you won’t run out of ink.”

“Good,” Stone said, replacing the pen in the jacket pocket.

“The only limitation is that the button has to be within six feet of whoever you’re talking to. I used a sleeve button because you can put your hands on the table and get it closer to Cabot. Don’t have any conversations with him from across the room.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said. “Tell me, how did a nice girl like you get into this business?”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to ask a whore?” she asked wryly.

“Spies, too.”

“I’m not a spy; I catch spies.”

“Come on, how?”

“I was recruited my last year at Oxford; my father had worked for the same firm, but he was killed in the line of duty when I was sixteen. I suppose I wanted to finish his job. How did you get from being a cop to being a lawyer?”

“I was recruited for the police department my last year in law school,” Stone said. “Fourteen years later, I was retired for medical reasons. I took the bar exam, and a friend found a place for me with his law firm.”

“You look pretty healthy to me,” she said, looking him up and down.

“It was a bullet in the knee. I got over it, except in cold weather.”

“Oh,” she said, retrieving a map from her briefcase. “Sit down, and I’ll show you how to get to the Waterside Inn.”

Stone sat on the arm of her chair and caught a faint whiff of perfume. He wondered if intelligence agents often wore perfume to work.

“Here we are, in Chester Street; you go down to the corner, turn left at Hyde Park Corner, that’s the big roundabout, here, and go straight out Knightsbridge, past Harrod’s, straight on out, as if you were going to Heathrow. You’ll end up on the M4 motorway; get off at the Bray exit and follow the signs to the village. You’ll see signs for the inn once you’re in the village. It’s at the end of a street that runs dead into the river, on your left.”

“What river?”

“The Thames; it’s pretty much the river around here. Have you driven on the right side before?”

“No, but it doesn’t look too hard.”

“It isn’t, but watch out for the first right-hand turn you make. Americans invariably turn into the right lane, instead of the left. The streets are littered with smashed rental cars.” She stood up. “Well, I have to go. Your car should be here shortly; I’d allow three-quarters of an hour for the drive; it could take an hour if traffic is bad.”

He walked her to the door, and with a final, fleeting glance at him and a little smile, she left. He wished he had more time to get to know her.

Chapter 48

AT TWELVE O’CLOCK, THE DOORBELL rang again. A man Stone had never seen before held out a set of car keys. “It’s the Jaguar S-type, parked along there, British Racing Green,” he said. “Here’s a car rental receipt from a firm in Knightsbridge; sign it here and here, and fill in your American driver’s license number. Ring Mason when you’re finished with the car and someone will collect it.”

“Thank you,” Stone said. The man left. Stone filled out the form, then turned to Dino. “You want a lift to Harrod’s? I’m going right past it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Let’s go, then.” Stone put on his jacket, checked to be sure the pen was still in place, and led the way out the door, locking it behind him. Sarah had given them each a key.

“Here we are,” Stone said, climbing into the Jaguar and adjusting the seat.

Dino got into the passenger seat, and Stone pulled out of the parking place, went to the corner, and turned left.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a steering wheel over here?” Dino asked.

“Nope, it’s over here.”

“It’s very weird sitting here with no controls,” Dino said. “I keep wanting to put on the brakes.”

“Relax,” Stone said, negotiating Hyde Park Corner. “That’s the Duke of Wellington’s house over there,” he said, pointing, “and that’s Hyde Park behind it.”

“Got it,” Dino said.

They drove a couple of blocks through heavy traffic, and Stone pulled over in front of the department store. “Here’s Harrod’s,” he said.

Dino looked out at the line of store windows. “Which one?”

“The whole block,” Stone replied. “It’s the largest store in the world.”

“Jesus,” Dino said, “I’ll need a map.”

“Just wander, and ask somebody if you get lost.”

“Okay, pal; when will I see you?”

“I’ll come back to the house after lunch; if anybody calls and asks for me, except Sarah, you don’t know me.”

“I might be better off,” Dino said.

“Maybe, but you wouldn’t have nearly as much fun.”

Dino closed the door and walked into Harrod’s.

Stone drove on out Knightsbridge, which became the Cromwell Road, and soon he was on a four-lane highway, and soon after that, on the M4 motorway. Traffic was heavy, but he made good time. He got off the motorway at the prescribed exit and took the opportunity to check the traffic behind him. No one exited after him that he could see, and he felt tail-free, except for Mason’s van, which was nowhere to be seen.

He followed the signs to the village and the restaurant and parked the car. The Thames was before him, broad and slow-moving, with pretty houses on the other side. He went into the restaurant; it was precisely one o’clock. Lance was not there yet, and the maître d’ seated him outside on the terrace, under an elm tree. He ordered a kir royale and sipped it. Lance, he figured, was driving around the village to see if either he or Stone had a tail. Another fifteen minutes passed before he entered the restaurant.

Stone shook his hand. “A very elegant place,” he said.

“Wait until you taste the food.”

They had only desultory conversation until the food arrived, then Lance took a look around to be sure they were not being overheard. “I’m going to have to pat you down,” he said to Stone.

Stone laughed. “Don’t worry, I haven’t worn a wire in years, not since I was a cop.”

Lance got up, walked behind Stone and, on the pretense of pointing at something on the river, ran his hands expertly over Stone’s body, down to the crotch.

“Don’t have too much fun there,” Stone said.

“What’s this?” Lance asked, patting Stone’s jacket pocket.

Stone removed the pen and handed it to him.

Lance inspected it closely and unscrewed the cap.

Don’t try to unscrew the other end, Stone thought.

Lance didn’t; he returned the pen, and Stone put it back into his pocket.

“Now,” Lance said.

Stone leaned forward, as if to listen closely, putting his left hand on the table.

“I’m going to tell you everything I think you need to know.”

“If it’s everything I think I need to know, we’ll be fine.”

“There is a company west and south of here, in Wiltshire, a very secret company that makes very, very high-tech parts for the British military. We’re talking very specialized metallurgy, machine tools, incredibly tight tolerances, and computerized design. For the past year, a man who works there, making these parts, has managed to make a duplicate of one extremely important component.”

Stone interrupted. “Surely parts of that kind are stringently catalogued and accounted for.”

“This man has been working in this facility for nearly thirty years, and he has accumulated a reservoir of trust, which leads his employers and colleagues to give him wide latitude. He’s brilliant, and he’s crotchety, and nobody likes to piss him off, so they leave him pretty much to himself.”

“I see.”

“This gentleman is nearing retirement, and he feels that his pension plan and what he has managed to save are insufficient to keep him in the style to which he would like to become accustomed. You see, he has a little horse-betting habit, which, over the years, has taken its toll on his nest egg.”

“Do you mean to tell me that an important employee of a high-security facility could be betting the ponies and losing and not be noticed?”

“Apparently, he has been very discreet, and he has not been noticed,” Lance replied. “In any case, he has made it known to someone who knows someone I know that he has built this very special device, and that it is for sale. I have bid on it, and he has accepted my offer. All that remains to be done is to meet with him, retrieve the device, pay him half a million dollars in cash, and pass the device on to someone else.”

“It sounds too simple,” Stone said.

“Believe me when I tell you, there has been nothing simple about it. I have known about this for seven months, and it has taken nearly every day of that time to set this up—retrieval of the device, payment, shipping, and finally, collecting payment.”

“And with all that time to prepare, why do you suddenly need my money?”

“Because the investor who was to have provided it last week met with a fatal accident, and his funds are no longer forthcoming. You happened to arrive at a moment when you could be useful.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re here,” Lance said emphatically. “The people to whom I’m to deliver the device are not the kind who take disappointment lightly; they get ugly quickly. I have given them a schedule, and they expect me to keep it.”

“Why don’t they deal directly with your man? Why do they need you?”

“Because they don’t know who he is or how he came by the device. Only I know that, just yours truly, and no one else. By the way, you are not going to know that, either. You will know only what I tell you, and if that’s not enough for you, then—”

“Then you’ll have to disappoint your buyers, won’t you?” Stone asked coldly.

That stopped Lance in his tracks. “I have another source for the funds, but it is a less attractive one, which will cost me too much in interest. If you don’t want into this, say so, and lunch is on me and we won’t meet again.”

Stone stared at him for a long moment. “What is the device? What does it do?”

“Please believe me, Stone, you do not want that information. In the unlikely event that this should go awry, you will be grateful for not knowing.”

Stone thought he had shown a sufficient amount of reluctance to be convincing. “When does the transaction take place?”

“Within the next forty-eight hours,” Lance replied, “after your funds are safely in a Swiss account.”

“Whose account?”

“Yours; I’ve brought the paperwork with me; you can instruct the bank not to proceed at any time you choose. But if you’re in, then the transfer has to be received in Zurich by the close of business tomorrow, which is noon in New York.”

Stone looked at his watch. “I can transfer the funds today. But first, when do I get paid, and how much?”

“We’re paying half a million dollars for the device, and I have negotiated a final sales price of two million, two. Your cut of that is one million dollars. I get more, because I set it up.”

“How and when will I be paid?”

“The device will be transported to a secure location, a bank in southern Europe, where the exchange will take place. The buyers’ funds will be transferred to your Zurich account and mine, in the appropriate amounts, before the device is handed over. It’s as foolproof as a transaction of this sort can be. I’ve done a number of them, I know. I much prefer doing business in the conference room of a bank, instead of in a back alley.”

“What about the arrangement you mentioned that will keep this transaction away from prying eyes, such as the Internal Revenue Service?”

“I also have the documentation for an account in the Cayman Islands. You sign both sets of documents—Swiss and Cayman—and I’ll fax them to the respective banks, along with a code word. You can then transfer from the Swiss Bank to the Cayman one with one phone call. Once it’s in the Cayman bank, you can draw on the account anywhere in the world—cash can be transferred to you, you can write checks, and you can have a credit card which is paid directly from the Cayman account. Thus, no transaction ever goes through an American bank, and you come to the attention of no one.”

“I like it,” Stone said. “Give me the documents.”

Lance produced a thick envelope from an inside pocket and showed Stone where to sign. “Write your code word—any combination of letters and numbers, up to twelve characters.”

“I don’t like the idea of your having the account numbers and the password,” Stone said.

“It’s the only way I can transfer your share of the funds to your account. Once I’ve done that, you can change the account number and the password.” Lance tore off a copy of each account application and handed them to Stone.

Stone put the papers into his pocket. “Where do I transfer my funds?”

“To your account in Zurich, which will be open in an hour; I’ll let you know where and when to send them from there.”

Stone stuck out his hand. “I’ll speak with my broker as soon as I get back to my hotel; I’ll have to fax him, too. The funds will be in Zurich before the day is over.” He glanced at his watch; he had three hours to get it done.

He and Lance parted at the restaurant door.

“I’ll call you on your cellphone tomorrow morning, with further instructions,” Lance said. “Make sure it’s turned on; from here on in, everything has to be done in a precise manner.”

“Good,” Stone said. Driving back to London, he wondered if he would have gone for this deal if he’d been on his own. Certainly not, he decided. Too risky.

Chapter 49

STONE DROVE BACK TO LONDON AND Chester Street; as soon as he was in the house, he called Mason’s cellphone. No answer; he left a message. As an afterthought, he called Carpenter’s number.

“Yes?” She sounded harried.

“It’s Stone Barrington. Did you get it?”

“Hold on,” she said, and covered the phone, so that he could hear only muffled voices. She uncovered it in time for Stone to hear her say, “Find out why, and do it now.” There was real authority in the voice. She came back to Stone. “Are you in Chester Street now?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Stone was going to ask what the hell was going on, but she had already hung up.

Dino let himself in through the front door; he was carrying two large Harrod’s shopping bags. “Hey,” he said.

“I take it you got Mary Ann something.”

“Yep; how’d your lunch go?”

“Just as it was supposed to, I think.”

“Good.” Dino stretched. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”

“It’s jet lag,” Stone said.

“I never get jet lag.”

“Whatever you say. You want me to wake you up later?”

“Not unless it gets to be dinnertime. Do we have any plans?”

“Not yet; I’ll call Sarah later.”

Stone read the papers for ten minutes, then the doorbell rang. He let Carpenter and Mason into the house.

“Come and sit down,” she said. “We have a lot to ask you.”

They all went into the drawing room and took seats.

“Did you get everything?” Stone asked.

“We got almost nothing,” Carpenter replied.

Mason seemed uncharacteristically quiet; usually, he did the talking.

“Your brand-new bug didn’t work?”

Now Mason spoke. “There was something in the neighborhood interfering with it,” he said petulantly. “As soon as you left the restaurant, we could clearly hear the sound of your car; it was just in the restaurant that it didn’t work. Must have been something in the walls.”

“We lunched outdoors,” Stone said. “It sounds as if Lance Cabot is smarter than you gave him credit for.”

“What do you mean?” Mason demanded.

“He searched me for a wire,” Stone replied, “which means he was suspicious. My guess is he had something in his car that would interfere with any radio transmissions in the immediate vicinity.”

“Shit,” Mason said, with disgust.

“Don’t worry about it,” Carpenter said. “We have Stone to tell us.” She turned to him. “Tell us.”

“Someone who works in what sounds like the factory of a defense contractor has made a duplicate of the device he builds every day. He’s going to sell it to Lance for half a million dollars in cash, and Lance is going to resell it to an unknown party for two million, two.”

“What details did he give you about the device?”

“The device is something that requires exotic metallurgy and special machine tools to make. It’s made to extremely tight tolerances. Sounds as though it’s small enough to carry around.”

“What else did he tell you about this man?”

“He has worked in the same facility for nearly thirty years and is about to retire. Apparently, he’s frittered away his savings on the ponies, and he wants to sell the device to make his retirement comfortable.”

“Ponies?” Mason asked, baffled. “Polo?”

“Horse racing,” Carpenter said to him sharply.

“This gives us nothing to go on,” Mason said. “There are factories and laboratories all over the country doing classified work. How are we going to find this man?”

“Lance said that the facility was very secret, and that it’s south and west of the restaurant, in Wiltshire,” Stone replied.

“Oh, Christ,” Carpenter said, turning pale.

“Eastover?” Mason asked.

“Shut up!” Carpenter said sharply.

Stone had the distinct impression that, for some reason, Carpenter was now in charge. Perhaps she had been from the beginning.

“What’s Eastover?” Stone asked.

“You don’t need to know,” Carpenter replied. She turned to Mason. “Listen to me very carefully: I want you to call someone in our tech department and have him call someone eminent in the related sciences that we know well. Have that person call the director at Eastover and tell him that someone is coming to see him for some advice on a technical matter. I don’t want the director to have any idea what’s going on, until you get there.”

“I understand.”

“When you arrive and are alone with the director, ask him who fits this description: long-time employee, highly classified work, a builder of devices rather than a designer, close to retirement. If he can’t come up with answers based on his own knowledge, have him call in his director of security to go through the personnel files, until you’ve identified the man. This must be done softly, softly, in such a way that does not create any alarm or gossip in the labs.” She turned to Stone. “When is the buy supposed to take place?”

“Within forty-eight hours of the time I transfer my funds to a Swiss account, which Cabot has already opened.”

Carpenter turned back to Mason. “We have forty-eight hours, probably less, to place our suspect under the most stringent surveillance—electronic, sonic, anything we can scrape up, but I don’t want any bodies anywhere near him or his residence, because if Cabot is as smart as he appears to be, that might alert him. Now, get on the phone.”

Mason whipped out a cellphone and walked into the dining room, pressing buttons.

Carpenter turned back to Stone. “When did you say you would transfer the funds?”

“Before the day was out.”

“Have you done it?”

“No.”

“Then you’d better get moving, hadn’t you?”

Stone went into the kitchen and used the phone there to call his broker in New York.

“Richardson.”

“Hank, it’s Stone Barrington.”

“Hi, Stone, what’s up? Got some more money for me?”

“No, I’m taking some out.”

“How come?”

“I can’t explain right now. How much have I got in my money market account?”

“Hang.” Stone could hear computer keys clicking. “Three hundred and ten thousand, give or take. The way the market is going, I’m getting ready to start investing it.”

Stone took out the document from the Swiss bank. “Got a pencil?”

“Yep.”

“I want you to transfer two hundred and fifty thousand to the following account number at the Charter Bank in Zurich.” He read the account number twice. “Got that?”

“I’ve got it. Listen, Stone, I can do as well for you as the Swiss, you know, probably better.”

“This is a short-term thing, Hank; I’ll have the money back in my account with you in a couple of days.”

“Is this ransom money, Stone? Has somebody been kidnapped?”

“No, nothing like that. Just do it, Hank.”

“I’m going to need written confirmation; can you fax me something?”

“In five minutes; go stand by the fax machine.” Stone hung up, then went upstairs to his room and opened his briefcase. He took out a sheet of his letterhead, wrote a letter of instructions, then took it down to James Cutler’s study and faxed it to Richardson. Then he went back into the drawing room.

Carpenter was on her cellphone, and she waved him to a seat. She ended the conversation, snapped the phone shut, and turned to Stone. “Did you get it done?”

“The money will be in Zurich within the hour.”

“Good. What are you supposed to do when it’s there?”

“Lance is to phone me on my cellphone tomorrow morning and tell me where to transfer it. I’m not going to do that, of course.”

“Why not?” she asked, alarmed.

“Are you kidding? It’s a quarter of a million dollars that I worked very hard for. You think I’m going to flush it down some cockamamy security operation I don’t really give a damn about?”

She looked miffed. “I quite understand; I’ll do something about getting hold of some funds tomorrow. Obviously, if we don’t transfer the money, Cabot isn’t going to go through with the buy.”

“He said that everything will have to be done at precise times from then on.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get the money. And we’ll put someone on his house, to keep track of him.”

“I wouldn’t do that; he might spot your people, no matter how good they are. He’s been trained for that, you know.”

“Yes, you’re probably right,” she said.

“Why did you want me to think Mason was in charge?”

She smiled. “The less you know, the better.”

“Carpenter and Mason,” Stone said. “I’ll bet you have a colleague named Plumber.”

She laughed. “Let’s just stick with those names for the moment, shall we?”

“What are you doing for dinner, Carpenter?”

She blushed. “Maybe when this is over,” she said. She stood up. “Now I have to go find that money.” She walked into the dining room, dialing her cellphone.

Chapter 50

CARPENTER AND MASON MADE MORE phone calls, then Mason made ready to leave. “I can be in the director’s office at Eastover by five,” he said.

“Wait until half-past. Give the building time to empty out after work,” Carpenter said. “Is everything in motion?”

“Our people are meeting at a country hotel a few miles from Eastover,” he said. “When we’ve identified our man, I’ll get them cracking.”

“Good. Call me if there are any problems.”

“Where will you be?” he asked.

“At the end of my cellphone,” she replied.

“All right; will you need transport?”

“If I do, I’ll use Barrington’s Jaguar.”

Mason nodded and left.

“He’s really quite good,” she said to Stone. “If a little short of imagination sometimes. I’m not sure that can be cured. Now, I have some phoning to do; may I use something besides the dining room?”

“Yes, Cutler’s study, right through there.” He pointed at the door.

“Maybe we should plan on dinner,” she said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Lance Cabot decided to rush things a bit.”

“All right.”

She disappeared into the study. Stone called Sarah at her studio.

“Hey, there,” she said brightly. “Are we on for dinner and, you know?”

“I’m afraid not; some business has come up, and I’m going to be tied up all evening. Maybe all night. How about tomorrow night?”

“Oh, all right,” she said, sounding disappointed. “I must have worn you out last night.”

“Not entirely.”

“Good; well, you have until tomorrow evening to rest. I’ll see you then.”

“Until then.” He hung up. With nothing else to do, he read the papers until Carpenter emerged from the study around six.

“Well, I’ve done all I can do until we hear from Mason,” she said. As if on cue, her cellphone rang. “Yes?” She listened intently. “Do you have enough people for that? Well, get more; then call Portsmouth, if necessary. Do you want me to call them? All right, get back to me.” She hung up. “A complication,” she said.

“What is it?”

“There are, believe it or not, two people who fit the description of Cabot’s contact at Eastover. One of them is a woman.”

“Lance always referred to his contact as ‘he.’ ”

“But ‘he’ could be a woman, so we have to surveil them both; there’s no way around it. Mason is getting more help.”

“What happens at Eastover?”

“Eastover is a code word for a government facility on an army base in Wiltshire, north of Stonehenge.”

“And what do they make there?”

“Very serious items,” she said. “Things that are shared only with your government, things that are vital to both our defenses.”

“Were they able to recognize the device from what Lance said about it?”

“As there are two people, there are two devices, made in separate departments; it could be either of them.”

“Is there nothing else you can tell me?”

“Suffice it to say that, if either of the devices fell into the hands of an unstable government or a terrorist organization, it might give them capabilities that neither my government nor yours would like them to have.”

“Weapons capabilities?”

She nodded. “Now, don’t ask me any more.”

“All right.”

“Do you like Chinese food?”

“You betcha.”

“I know a place; we’ll order in. It’s all right, is it, that we have dinner here?”

“Yes, of course, but order for three; my friend Dino is upstairs asleep.”

“May I use the phone? My department frowns on the use of secure cellphones for ordering Chinese.”

“Sure, there’s one in the kitchen.”

“It will be an hour or so,” she said. “The restaurant is in Gerard Street, in Soho, not far from my, ah, place of business; they’ll send it over in a taxi.”

“Do I pay the driver when he arrives?”

“No, it’s already been charged to a business account.”

“For future reference, what’s the restaurant?”

“The Dumpling Inn. It’s good for a quick before-the-ater dinner, a short block off Shaftsbury Avenue.”

“I’ll make a note,” he said, “for a future trip. Would you like a drink while we wait?”

“Thank you, yes; is there any bourbon?”

Stone went to a liquor cabinet across the room and found a bottle of Knob Creek. “Yes, and a good one. Where would a proper, Oxford-educated Englishwoman acquire a taste for bourbon?”

“I did some training in Virginia, near Washington.”

“At the Farm?”

“How did you know that?” she demanded.

“Lance Cabot told me he spent some time there.”

“True; he was in the class just a year ahead of mine; we heard about him.”

“Was Stan Hedger running the place then?”

“Yes; you do know a lot, don’t you?”

“Not a lot. Just enough to sound knowledgeable. Ice?”

“Yes, please; I learned that in Virginia, too.”

There was an ice machine built into the cabinet; Stone returned with the two drinks and sat down. They clinked glasses.

“Mmmm, good one,” she said. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s one of a rash of boutique bourbons that have cropped up the past few years. Sort of like your single-malt Scotches.”

Her cellphone rang. “Yes? Well, give the man priority. Try and have it done before he gets home. You’ll just have to do the other one while the house is occupied; it must be done as soon as possible.” She hung up. “Mason is bringing more personnel up from our Portsmouth office, but right now we’ve only enough people to wire one house, and I’ve chosen the man, since he’s working late in the lab.”

“Probably getting his device ready to sell.”

“Probably.”

“Did you enjoy the training at the Farm?”

She smiled. “I adored it, the rougher the better. I’m quite a tomboy, you know. I grew up outdoors, around horses, played polo. At school, I was a vicious lacrosse player; had a terrible reputation among our opponents.”

“I expect your people liked that about you, when you were being considered for your work.”

“No, I think they would have preferred me working in a code room, or something else less masculine. Mason has been working for me for two years, and he’s never really become accustomed to being bossed around by a woman. That’s one reason I let him take the lead with you; good for his ego.”

“You’re not married?”

She held up a bare ring finger. “How very observant of you.”

“Oh, I’m real quick.”

“Marriage would be difficult. If I married inside my organization there would be the problem of arranging compatible postings, office politics, all that. If I married outside, I’d probably have to resign.”

“Why?”

“Oh, many of our male employees are married to civilians, their wives having been well vetted, of course. But for our management, it doesn’t seem to work both ways. There’d still be the problem of postings, and they’d be fearful of an officer having to rush home and cook dinner for her husband. And, of course, children would be an unbearable complication. I love the work so much, I rather think I won’t marry.”

Dino appeared, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Not a lot. You up for Chinese?”

“I’m always up for Chinese,” Dino replied.

Chapter 51

THEY DINED FROM CARDBOARD CARTONS on Wedgwood plates. The food was superb, and Stone had found a dry, white Bordeaux in James Cutler’s cellar that was a perfect companion to Chinese food. Among the three of them, they managed two bottles.

Stone’s cellphone rang. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me,” Lance’s voice said.

“Lance,” Stone mouthed to Carpenter. She came and put her ear next to his.

“What’s up? Everything on schedule?”

“Did you wire the funds into the Swiss account?”

“Yes; they would have been there before the close of business.”

“Good; then we’re a go.”

“When is the buy going to take place?”

“The evening of the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow morning I have to arrange for the cash to be transported from Zurich to England. You’ll wire it to an account in Belgium, and it will be across the Channel as quickly as possible. I’ll give you the wiring instructions tomorrow morning, so don’t be far from your cellphone.”

“Lance, I want to be there for the buy.”

Lance was quiet for a moment. “That isn’t necessary,” he said.

“It’s necessary for me. I don’t want to be separated from my money.”

Lance laughed. “All right; we’ll arrange to meet west of London; I’ll give you an address.”

“Why don’t you just pick me up?”

“Because I won’t be returning to London after the buy; you’ll need transportation. Believe me, this is the best way to do it.”

“If you say so.”

“I’ll call you at nine o’clock tomorrow morning with the wiring instructions.”

“All right, good night.”

“Good night.”

Stone punched off the phone. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Let’s wait until you hear from him with the wiring instructions. By that time, I’ll have the funds available to make the transfer. We’ll wire them to your Swiss account, and then you can forward them to the Belgian account. That way it will look entirely kosher. You’ll have to sign for the funds, of course.” She smiled. “We can’t have you running off with our money.”

“Suppose I did?”

“I’d hunt you down; you couldn’t hide for long.”

“I don’t think I’d want you on my trail,” Stone said.

Carpenter looked at her watch. “I have to go home and get some sleep.”

“Can I drive you?”

“I’m within walking distance.”

“Then I’ll walk you.”

“That won’t do, I’m afraid. You get some sleep; I’ll be back here by eight in the morning.” She stood up.

Stone walked her to the door and said good night. Stone went back to the kitchen, where Dino was polishing off a final dumpling.

“She doesn’t want you to know where she lives,” Dino said.

“I guess not.”

“Or her name.”

“I guess not.”

“It’s a shame; she’s quite a broad; I’ve never met anybody like her.”

“Neither have I,” Stone admitted.

“What did you tell Sarah about tonight?”

“Business.”

“I suppose that wasn’t too much of a lie.”

“I try never to lie.”

“The best policy,” Dino agreed.

They had a brandy, then went to bed.

Stone was already up and dressed the following morning, when Carpenter rang the bell.

“Good morning,” she said. Today she was dressed more informally, in a cotton pantsuit that complemented her figure.

“Come in,” Stone said.

“Heard anything from Cabot?”

“No, not yet. He said he’d call at nine. Have you had breakfast?”

“No.”

“Come to the kitchen; I’ll make you some eggs.”

Carpenter followed him into the kitchen, where Dino was making coffee. Stone scrambled some eggs, English-style, and fried some superb smoked Irish back bacon. They were just finishing when nine o’clock came.

Stone looked at his watch. “Any minute,” he said.

“My funds are ready to go,” Carpenter said. “The minute you have the wiring instructions.”

By ten o’clock, Stone had still not heard from Lance.

“Call him,” Carpenter said.

Stone dialed the Farm Street house; Erica answered.

“Hi,” Stone said, “may I speak with Lance?”

“He’s not here,” she said, and she sounded upset.

“What’s wrong?” Stone asked.

“He left in the middle of the night; I didn’t wake up until Monica called a few minutes ago.”

“You sound a little groggy.”

“I know; I can’t seem to wake up.”

“Did Lance leave a note?”

“No, nothing; and all his clothes are gone. I mean, everything, and all his luggage, too.”

“I’ll call you back,” Stone said, and hung up. He turned to Carpenter. “Sounds like Lance drugged Erica last night, then packed up and decamped. Does this change anything?”

“No,” she said. “It makes sense that he’d not tell her where he’s going, and he wouldn’t want to return to the house after the buy.”

“But why would he go two days before the buy?”

“This leads me to think that the exchange will be tonight, rather than tomorrow. It can’t happen any earlier than that, because his man at Eastover will be working all day; if he didn’t show up for work, our people would be all over him.”

“Then why hasn’t Lance called with the wiring instructions?” Stone asked. “He can’t make the buy without the funds, and he made the very good point last night that the cash would have to be transported to England. This doesn’t make any sense.”

Carpenter got out her cellphone and went into the study. She came back a few minutes later. “Both our suspects at Eastover are at work, as usual,” she said. “We’ll be notified if they leave the installation for any reason, and there are people there to keep track of them if they do.”

Stone was suddenly struck with an odd feeling. “Excuse me a minute, will you?” He went upstairs and retrieved his copy of the Swiss bank documents. There was an account manager’s name at the top of the first page, and a telephone number. Stone dialed the number.

An operator answered, repeating only the number.

“May I speak with Dr. Peter von Enzberg?” Stone asked.

“Who is calling, please?” the operator asked in stiff English.

“My name is Stone Barrington.”

“One moment.” There was a brief pause, followed by several clicks.

“This is Peter von Enzberg,” a deep voice said, sounding very English. “Is that Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes, Doctor. I opened an account yesterday and transferred some funds from New York.”

“Of course, Mr. Barrington; we received the funds in good order.”

“Can you tell me the current balance in my account?”

“May I have your code word, please?”

Stone gave it to him.

“One moment.” Stone could hear computer keys clicking. “Your current balance is one hundred dollars, Mr. Barrington.”

Stone felt suddenly ill. “What was the amount you received from New York?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“Then why isn’t it in the account?”

“A request was made to transfer the funds shortly before closing yesterday. It was very late, but the request was urgent, so we accommodated Mr. Cabot.”

“Mr. Cabot had access to my account?”

“Why, yes, Mr. Barrington; his signature was on the account application, and he knew the code word.”

Stone felt frozen. “Where were the funds transferred?”

“To an account in Hong Kong,” the account manager replied.

“Thank you, Dr. von Enzberg.” He hung up and trudged down the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Carpenter asked. “You look ill.”

“I’ve been had,” Stone replied.

Chapter 52

STONE SANK HEAVILY INTO AN ARMCHAIR in the drawing room.

“Explain,” Carpenter said.

“Lance transferred all the money out of the account yesterday, to a bank in Hong Kong.”

“How could he do that?”

“Apparently, he had access to my account.”

Carpenter stared at him. “Did you sign the account application, then give it back to Lance?”

“Yes.”

“Then he simply added his own signature to the document. Did he know your code?”

“I wrote it on the form. How could I have been so stupid?”

“An expensive oversight,” Carpenter said.

“I could get the Hong Kong account number, and we could trace the funds,” Stone said.

Carpenter shook her head. “Remember the time difference; Cabot has had plenty of opportunity to retransfer the funds half a dozen times; he was probably at it all night. We’d never find it.”

“But your people will reimburse me?”

“I can’t make any promises; my management are likely to take a dim view of all this.”

“I worked very hard to earn that money,” Stone said, though he’d really made it in the market. “You can’t let them hang me out to dry.”

“If it were our funds he’d stolen, that would be one thing, but your funds are quite another.” She looked at her watch. “We have to get going,” she said.

“To where?”

“To Wiltshire; obviously, the timetable has been accelerated. I hope we’re not too late.”

Stone grabbed a tie and his suit jacket and they met downstairs.

“We’ll take your Jaguar,” Carpenter said. “But you can’t go,” she said to Dino.

“I go where he goes,” Dino replied.

Carpenter looked at Stone, who nodded. “Oh, all right. Let’s get out of here,” she said.

Carpenter drove, fast and expertly.

Stone glanced at the speedometer, which was glued to a hundred and twenty miles an hour. “Aren’t you worried about being stopped by the police?”

“The number plate is a special one; they’ll know to leave us alone,” she replied. She fished her cellphone out of her bag and dialed a number, driving with one hand, making Stone nervous. “It’s Carpenter,” she said. “Cabot has bolted with Barrington’s money, we don’t know where. We have to assume that his timetable has changed. I’m on the way, and I’ll be there in an hour.” She punched off.

Stone called the Farm Street house again. Erica answered.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’ve had three double espressos, but I’m still a little fuzzy around the edges.”

“Write down this number,” Stone said, and gave her his cellphone number. “If Lance should call, tell him I called and want to speak to him urgently. When he hangs up, you call me immediately.”

“What’s going on, Stone?” Erica asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said, “but don’t leave the house; stick by the phone.”

“All right,” she replied.

Stone hung up. “Should I call her back and have her check the office in the wine cellar?”

“Don’t bother,” Carpenter said. “It isn’t Cabot’s office.”

Stone looked at her. “Then whose is it?”

“It belongs to the owner of the house,” she said. “He’s one of ours.”

“Why would Lance rent a house from one of your people?”

“He doesn’t know. We’ve been keeping track of Cabot ever since he arrived in London last year. He was followed to an estate agent’s, where he was looking for houses to rent, and we, in effect, made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. The rent and the location were irresistible.”

“Who shot the two Israelis?”

“Not our people; maybe Stan Hedger.”

“Why?”

“He may have read them as a threat to Cabot, and he didn’t want anything to happen to Cabot, at least not yet.”

“This is way too complicated for me,” Stone said.

“Then don’t try to figure it out.”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Dino chipped in from the backseat.

“What does?”

“The whole thing. Hedger hires you to look into Cabot because he’s afraid if he uses his own people Cabot will figure it out, because, having been one of them, he knows how they operate. Cabot researches you, figures you were telling the truth when you said you were no longer working for Hedger.”

“I did tell the truth,” Stone said. “Eventually.”

“Yeah. Once Cabot thinks you’re not working for Hedger, he figures you for a mark.”

“God knows, that’s true.”

“The Israelis obviously want whatever Cabot is buying, and so does Hedger.”

“But the American government already has access to this technology, doesn’t it?” Stone asked Carpenter.

Carpenter looked momentarily uncomfortable. “Not necessarily,” she said.

Dino continued. “Makes even more sense,” he said. “The Brits build this . . . thing . . . and they don’t share their little secret with the Americans, so Hedger and his people are pissed off.”

“But why me?” Stone asked.

“You’re not some unknown person,” Dino said. “You get your name in the papers now and then. That’s probably how you came to Hedger’s attention—that, or your old professor buddy down at NYU dropped your name on somebody he used to know.”

“And who would the professor be?” Carpenter asked.

“Samuel Bernard,” Stone replied. “He was one of my professors in law school.”

“That bloke is a bloody legend,” she said, wonder in her voice.

“I knew he had a lot of connections, but I didn’t know he qualified as a legend.”

“He was offered the directorship of central intelligence at one time; turned it down and went to NYU, but word is, he kept his hand in. Once you’ve been at that level in the agency, you don’t just get put out to pasture.” She whipped off the motorway, made a left, drove another half a mile, and turned onto a smaller road, keeping her speed at what Stone figured was about twenty miles an hour more than the car was capable of on that road.

Stone hung onto the door handle and tried not to look at the winding black tarmac rushing at him. Dino, on the other hand, seemed perfectly awake.

“Looks like everybody knows what’s going on here except you, Stone,” he said.

“Oh, I think you’ve explained it to him very well, Dino,” Carpenter said, whipping around a hairpin turn. “You missed your calling; you’re wasted as a policeman.”

“Don’t you believe it,” Dino replied. “I wouldn’t get mixed up in your business for anything. You can never trust anybody.”

“Not a bad policy,” she replied. “Is it any better on the NYPD?”

“Marginally,” Dino said.

“Where are we going?” Stone asked.

“Right up there,” Carpenter replied. They had emerged from a stand of trees onto an open, rolling plain with few trees. Ahead of them a mile or so, at a crossroads, was a three-story stone building, which got larger fast. Carpenter skidded into the parking lot, which was nearly full, and got out of the car. “Come on,” she said.

Stone saw two men on a ladder stringing a cable from a utility pole on the road to a corner of the building. He looked at the sign: THE BREWER’S ARMS, it read. He followed Carpenter inside.

Chapter 53

THEY WALKED UP TO THE THIRD FLOOR of the country inn, past a guard, and into a roomy, two-bedroom suite, which contained half a dozen men, most in their shirtsleeves, and several pieces of electronic equipment—radios, computers, and two large, flat-screen monitors. Thick wires ran from the equipment out a window, where Stone had seen the two men stringing wire, and he could see a small satellite dish mounted to the windowsill.

“What’s happening?” Carpenter said to one of the men. “Oh, this is Barrington and Bacchetti; they’re with me. Gentlemen, this is Plumber.”

“We’re just about set up,” Plumber said. “We’re expecting satellite contact any moment, and we’ve got great weather for it.”

“What have you done with the two subjects’ homes?”

“We couldn’t get anything decent with sonic equipment,” Plumber said. “They both live in official housing, and double glazing was installed a few months ago, so we can’t get anything off the glass. We’ve tapped both phones from the exchange, but since they’re both at work, we’re not getting anything.”

“Eyeball surveillance?”

“Nothing within five miles,” Plumber replied. “We figure that when Cabot arrives in the area he’ll canvass the neighborhood, looking for anything that might be surveillance, so we’re going to rely on satellite, until dark. After that, we’ll have taxis with local numbers painted on, but we’ll keep our distance. We’re going to place satellite tracker marks on both subjects’ cars, so we needn’t stay within sight.”

“Where’s Mason?”

“He’s running the on-ground operation; he’ll be in touch when something happens.”

“Anything else?”

“Bad news; Portsmouth let us down.”

“What?”

“Something about a suspect merchant ship in the harbor; they’ve put all their people and equipment on that.”

“Do we have enough resources on the ground here to cover both subjects?”

“Maybe; that’s the best I can tell you.”

“Isn’t there anything else we can draw on?”

“No. Another team is on its way to Scotland, looking for a suspected terrorist who is supposed to be arriving in the Clyde on a tanker.”

“Shit,” she muttered.

“Satellite’s up,” a young man at a computer station said.

Everyone gathered around him. The image on the big monitor was of a building and a carpark. “Eastover internal security gave us the position of the two subjects’ cars.” He moved the cursor to a small car and clicked on it: an A appeared on the car’s roof. He moved the cursor to another, larger car and clicked again. A B appeared on the car. “A is Morgan, our male subject; B is Carroll, our female. The equipment will move the ID letter with the cars, so we won’t lose them in traffic.”

“How about the houses?” Carpenter asked.

The tech tapped some more keys, and the screen divided into thirds. “Now you can see both Eastover and the two houses,” he said. “Neato, huh?”

“Stop speaking American,” Carpenter said.

Plumber spoke up. “Internal security at Eastover is tracking both Morgan and Carroll inside the building. They’ll know if either tries to take something out.”

“Tell them not to stop either one,” Carpenter said. “I want to bag Cabot and find out from him who his buyer is.”

“Righto.”

“Well,” Carpenter said, “we’ve nothing to do until the end of the workday, when our two subjects will leave the building. We might as well order some lunch.” She went to a desk and found a room-service menu.

By half-past five, they were ready for some action. Stone was reading an elderly copy of Country Life, and Dino was in one of the bedrooms, glued to a cricket match. Carpenter merely paced.

“We’ve got movement,” Plumber said. It was one minute past five-thirty, and people were streaming out of the Eastover building.

“Typical civil servants,” Carpenter said. “Leaving on the stroke of quitting time.”

“We can’t identify individuals by satellite, but look, A’s car is on the move. There—so is B’s.” The cars pulled out of the carpark and turned in opposite directions.

A cellphone rang, and Plumber answered it. “Righto,” he said, then hung up. “We’ve got word from internal security that both subjects have left the building.”

“Were they carrying anything?” Carpenter asked.

“A wore a loose raincoat, and B had a bakery box, looked like a cake.”

“Did they search them on the way out?”

“I asked them not to, as per your instructions.”

Carpenter watched the screen as it divided in two, each displaying a car with a letter on top.

Five minutes passed. “They’re home,” Plumber said. “Both cars are garaged. The houses are virtually identical.”

“Government-issue,” Carpenter said.

“Right, but they’re on opposite sides of the village; both back up onto Salisbury Plain.”

“What now?” Stone asked.

“We wait,” Carpenter replied.

They did not have long to wait. “We’ve got movement on A, Morgan,” Plumber said. “He’s backed his car out of the garage, now he’s loading something, can’t tell what.”

Everybody gathered around the screen to see the man putting several items into the back of what seemed like a small station wagon.

“What kind of car is that?” Stone asked.

“Morris Minor Estate,” Plumber replied. “It’s from the fifties, and Morgan has carefully restored it himself; looks new.”

Across the room a man wearing headphones shouted, “B’s getting a phone call!” He flipped a switch, and, over a speaker, they could all hear the phone ringing.

There was a click, and a woman’s voice said, “Hello?”

From the other end of the connection came not a voice, but a whistle. The whistler performed a few bars of “Rule Brittania,” then hung up. The woman hung up, too.

“That’s a signal,” Plumber said. “Everybody alert; she’s going to move now.”

On the split screen they watched Morgan back his Morris Minor out of his driveway and head off down the street, his car still marked with an A.

“Oh, shit,” Plumber said, pointing at the other side of the screen. B was coming out of the garage, too, but not in her car; she was pushing a bicycle. On the back, a large pair of saddlebags could be seen. “We can’t put a tracker mark on her bicycle—not enough area showing to the satellite. This is going to be dicey.”

“Don’t you lose that bicycle,” Carpenter warned.

“I’ll do my best,” the tech said, “but with the marked car, the tracking would have been automatic. With the bike, I’m going to have to do it manually, and it’s the toughest computer game you ever saw.”

“Cabot is very smart,” Carpenter said. “But we knew that; we should have suspected something like this. Where’s Morgan going?”

“I’ll put him on the other screen,” the tech said. “It’ll be easier to track B if we devote a whole screen to her.” He tapped in a command, and the second screen came to life.

“He’s leaving the village,” Plumber said. “We’ve got fewer houses, now. He’s headed west, toward the Plain. Wait a minute, he’s turning into some woods. Shit, we won’t be able to see him under trees.”

Then the Morris Minor emerged from the trees and stopped. Morgan got out of the car, opened the rear doors, and began unloading.

“What’s he doing?” Carpenter asked.

“Equipment of some sort,” Plumber replied.

“It’s an easel,” Stone said. “Look, he’s setting it up.”

“He’s going to paint?” Plumber asked.

“Looks like it,” Carpenter replied.

Morgan set up a camp stool, opened what looked like a toolbox, and placed a canvas on the easel.

“He’s going to paint the sunset,” Plumber said.

“I’ve got trouble here,” the tech said suddenly, pointing to the screen before him. “Carroll is approaching a roundabout, and so are some other bikes.” They watched as B moved into the roundabout, merging with half a dozen other bicycles. Then they began exiting.

“Which one is she?” Carpenter demanded.

“You got me,” the tech replied. “There are two roads off the roundabout, and we’ve got two bikes on one and four on the other. We can’t track them all.”

“It’s B, Carroll,” Carpenter said. “Use both views to track the cyclists, until we can identify her. Morgan’s going to be there awhile; we’ll let him be. It’s Carroll, I know it.”

Stone watched as both screens began displaying cyclists on country roads. His last view of Morgan was of the man painting away.

Chapter 54

THEY SPLIT INTO TWO GROUPS, EACH watching the cyclists. “There,” Stone said. “The saddlebags; there’s only one bike with large saddlebags.”

“You’re right,” Carpenter said. “And none of the other bikes has saddlebags at all. That’s Carroll!”

Then the bicycle with the large saddlebags split off from the other three and turned onto a dirt lane.

“Okay,” Carpenter said to the tech, “follow her, ignore the others, and let’s get Morgan back on the other screen.”

The tech got the bicycle in his sights. “It’s going to be easier now, since she’s on that little lane.”

“Show me Morgan,” Carpenter said.

The tech tapped more keys, and the image popped back onto the second screen.

“Where is he?” Carpenter asked.

“Let me pan around,” the tech replied.

“It’s the same spot,” Stone said, “but Morgan’s car isn’t there; he’s gone.”