Stealth

by Stuart Woods

  “It sounds lovely,” Viv said. “Does your family still live there?”

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  —

  After lunch and some wine, everybody adjourned for a nap.

  * * *

  —

  Viv, after Dino was asleep, called her London office at Strategic Services, spoke to her assistant and made a request, then she went back to the bed.

  “What were you doing?” Dino asked.

  “Oh, go back to sleep,” she said.

  “I was thinking, maybe a matinee?”

  “Dino, do you know how long it’s been since we had a matinee?”

  “Well, we don’t often have an afternoon in bed, do we?”

  Viv rolled over and explored his crotch. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

  * * *

  —

  Stone and Rose had finished their matinee and were getting drowsy.

  “Stone,” Rose said, “do you think Viv likes me?”

  “Sure she does,” Stone said. “Believe me, you’d know it if she didn’t.”

  14

  Stone woke later than usual and felt groggy. There was an empty brandy snifter on the bedside table, and he vaguely recalled Rose pouring them both one at bedtime. He got up, pulled on a robe, and made his way unsteadily to the bathroom, used the toilet, and splashed some cold water on his face, then returned to the bedroom. He had expected Rose to be asleep; there was an envelope on Rose’s side of the bed, but no Rose. There was an empty snifter on her side, too.

  He sat down on the bed, opened the envelope, and found a letter, handwritten on Windward Hall stationery.

  My dear Stone,

  Forgive me for sneaking out early this morning, but I had an e-mail, requiring me to be at St. George’s in London today, so I called an Uber to get to the station.

  I had a wonderful time at Windward and enjoyed meeting Viv and Dino. I’ll give you a call later in the week.

  Love,

  Rose

  There was a sharp rap on his door. “Stone?” Sounded like Viv.

  “Come in,” he called.

  Viv came in, dressed for the day. “You’re usually an early riser, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s nearly ten o’clock. Are you all right?”

  “I guess I slept a little too well,” he said. “Have you and Dino had breakfast?”

  “A couple of hours ago.”

  Stone picked up the phone and ordered breakfast for one.

  “Where’s Rose?”

  “She had to go back to the hospital in London,” Stone said, handing her the note.

  Viv read it, then pulled up a chair next to his bed and sat down. “I’m not surprised,” she said. She picked up the brandy glass on his bedside table and sniffed it.

  “Why not?”

  “Do you recall our conversation of yesterday? Rose’s and mine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I was suspicious of some of the things she said, so I did some checking.”

  “Checking what?”

  “To begin with, St. George’s Hospital at Hyde Park Corner closed in the late eighties and moved to South London, to a place charmingly called Tooting. I called them, and they have no record of a Dr. Rose McGill. The building at Hyde Park Corner, which was a stately home called Lanesborough House before it was a hospital, was renovated, redone, and reopened as a hotel of that name in 1991. It’s said to be the most expensive in London.”

  “That’s odd,” Stone said.

  “Also, the county of Rutland is not the smallest in the country, as Rose stated. The Isle of Wight is.”

  “You’d think Rose would have known that, wouldn’t you?”

  “I would. I also had a check done of the property records in Rutland, going back a couple hundred years, and there is not now nor has there ever been a farm in the county owned by a family named McGill, Rose’s name. Indeed, there is only one McGill family in all of Rutland. They have operated a betting parlor in Oakham for four generations and do not have a family member named Rose.”

  “Viv, I believe you’re telling me that I have been had, in some sort of way.”

  “It would seem so.”

  “Maybe.” Stone picked up his phone, found Felicity’s number, and called her.

  “Good morning, Stone,” she said, after her call had been screened.

  “Good morning, Felicity,” he replied. “I wonder if you could check something for me.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Can you consult your records and see if MI-6 has an employee named Rose McGill?”

  “One moment,” she said. He could hear the tapping of computer keys. “Now,” she said, “security regulations prevent me from confirming the name of an employee. However, I don’t believe there is a regulation that prevents me from denying that such an employee exists. In fact, we often make such denials. I can, though, tell you honestly that we have no record of an employee by that name.”

  “You recall meeting her at dinner?”

  “Of course. I’m not denying her existence, just her employment. You met her at Station Two, did you not?”

  “I did.”

  “How?”

  “She came into the ward while I was being examined by another doctor.”

  “What was his name?”

  “I don’t recall, but he was middle-aged and had a very handsome military mustache.”

  “Yes, that would be Major St. George, who is the only physician based at Station Two.”

  “Rose said she was doing a locum there.”

  “That term would be used only if she were replacing another doctor who was away from the station. Clearly, Major St. George was present.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Was Brigadier Fife-Simpson present in the ward at that time?”

  “Yes, he came in to yell at me for wrecking your car—at least, I think that’s what he was yelling about.”

  “Had you seen Rose before that meeting? In the dining hall, perhaps, or on the grounds?”

  “No.”

  Felicity was silent for a moment. “I am inclined to think that Dr. McGill is a creature of the brigadier’s,” she said.

  “Have you known the brigadier for long?”

  “I had met him once or twice in passing, but I had never had a conversation with him until I drove up to Station Two in my erstwhile Aston Martin. Oh, incidentally, its replacement arrived this morning, a bit ahead of schedule, and it is indistinguishable from its predecessor. I thank you for ordering it.”

  “I trust the MOD paid?”

  “Astonishingly, they did. I was prepared to do combat with them over that.”

  “Felicity, what am I to do about Rose McGill, if that, indeed, is her name?”

  “Do you have her address and phone number?”

  Stone thought about that. “No.”

  “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything you can do.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “If you hear from her again, see if you can worm that information out of her, then I can investigate further. For the present, I think all this is best kept between us. I shall not mention it to the brigadier until I am on firmer ground. Now, I must run to a meeting on the Muddle East.”

  “Thank you, Felicity.” Stone hung up and turned to Viv. “Rose McGill does not exist,” he said, “at least, not for MI-6.”

  “I had rather thought she might not,” Viv replied. “Shall I ask my people to track her down?”

  “Maybe later. Right now, let’s let Felicity deal with the situation.” His breakfast arrived, and Viv made to go. “I’ll be going up to London tomorrow morning,” she said. “May I have a ride to the station?”

  “Of course.”


  15

  To clear his head, Stone ordered up the gelding and went for a ride. Dino and Viv declined to join him. He walked, then trotted the horse to warm him up, then eased into a canter. As the stone wall grew nearer he spurred the animal into a gallop. Clearly, the horse knew what was expected of him and he soared over the wall and ran until he was reined in.

  Back at the house, Stone found his book in the library, then read until everyone was assembled for lunch.

  “You’re looking a bit more clear-eyed,” Viv said.

  “Yeah,” Dino echoed. “I hear your girl slipped you a Mickey last night.”

  “It would appear so,” Stone said.

  “What are you going to do about that girl?” Dino asked.

  “Nothing. Felicity will look into the matter when she feels the time is right.”

  “Don’t you find this disturbing?”

  “I find it baffling. I can’t understand why she, or whoever she works for, would go to these lengths to deceive me.”

  “It’s gotta be Fife-Simpson running her,” Dino said.

  “That’s what Felicity thinks, but she’s apparently in a delicate situation: Fife-Simpson has been pressed on her by her ministry, and she doesn’t know why.”

  “It sounds as though they’re going to dump her soon, and they want their own man there, ready to step in.”

  “My guess is that’s what Felicity thinks, too, but she won’t talk about it.”

  “Wheels within wheels,” Viv said. “That’s what these intelligence people are like. You never know what they’re thinking.”

  The phone rang, and Stone took the call.

  “Hi, it’s Rose. I just wanted to apologize for leaving without talking to you, but they had three hysterectomies lined up and waiting at St. George’s, and the surgeon called in sick.”

  “It’s all right, I understand.”

  “Do you think you’ll come up to London this week?”

  “Yes, my London office has asked me to. Are you free tomorrow night?”

  “I can do that.”

  “I’ll book a suite at the Connaught. Bring your toothbrush.”

  “Sounds good. I think I can be there around five.”

  “By the way, what’s your phone number?” Then she began talking to someone else in the room.

  “Sorry, got to run; I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” She hung up.

  So did Stone. “I didn’t get her number,” he said. He called Felicity.

  “Yes, Stone?”

  “I’ve heard from Rose. I’m going up to London tomorrow. I’ll book a suite at the Connaught—she’s meeting me there. Tell me, do you have some sort of concealable device I can use to record her?”

  “I can do better than that,” Felicity said. “Let me book your suite at the Connaught. We have one there that is specially equipped. You won’t have to do a thing, except talk.”

  “We’ll go out for dinner,” he said.

  “Make an excuse to order from room service instead.”

  “All right. Let me know what you learn.”

  “All in good time,” she said, then hung up.

  “Felicity’s service has a suite at the Connaught that’s wired,” he said to the Bacchettis.

  “Be careful what you say,” Viv said to him, “because your voice will forever be in the files of MI-6.”

  “Good point,” Stone said. “Do you think I should confront Rose with her lies?”

  “Heavens no,” Viv said.

  “Just give her all the rope she wants,” Dino said. “Let’s see what else she tells you.”

  “Right,” Viv said. “If you start questioning her too closely, she’ll get suspicious and clam up. Just let her talk.”

  “What else do I want to know about her?”

  “Anything she tells you is likely to be a lie,” Viv said. “But I have to tell you, she doesn’t sound like a well-trained intelligence agent.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She’s already blithely told you things you could easily check out and disprove. A real pro would have a legend prepared that’s all backed up.”

  “You could try getting her prints,” Dino said, “on a wineglass, or something. Where are you going for dinner?”

  “Felicity wants me to order from room service.”

  “Do what Felicity says,” Dino said.

  “If the room is wired, just let the conversation flow, and Felicity will have it on tape.”

  “Right,” Stone said.

  16

  Stone drove the Porsche 911 up to London, figuring the car needed the exercise. He made it to the Connaught by four PM without getting arrested and turned the car over to the doorman for parking.

  The MI-6 suite was better than he had expected; the rooms were large and well-decorated. Once the bellman had deposited his luggage and left, Stone stood in the middle of the living room and said loudly, “This is Barrington. I’m here.”

  A moment later his cell phone rang. “Yes?”

  “Message received,” a woman’s voice said. “Good luck.”

  Getting lucky was what Stone had in mind. And now, for the first time, he considered that he and Rose would be performing for an audience, if only via audio. He tried to put it out of his mind.

  * * *

  —

  Shortly after five o’clock his phone rang. “Hello?”

  A man said, “Your companion is on her way up.”

  “Thank you.” He hung up and waited. A moment later there was a rap on the door and he opened it to find Rose standing there, holding a small duffel.

  “Hi, there,” she said, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him. “I declined the offer of a bellman,” she said, pushing him inside and hipping the door shut. “I didn’t want any witnesses.” She backed him to the bed, and they were undressed and under the covers shortly.

  Stone dismissed any thought of aural witnesses and turned his attention to gratifying her in every way he could think of. Finally, they were lying in each other’s arms, spent and sweating.

  “I didn’t offer you a drink,” Stone said.

  “I didn’t give you time.”

  “Would you like one now?”

  “Yes, please.” She released him; he went to the bar and poured them each one.

  She plumped up their pillows and arranged them so that they could sit up. “That was spectacular,” she said. “As always.”

  “It certainly was,” Stone said softly.

  “It’s a pity we don’t have a video for later viewing,” she said.

  “Negative,” Stone replied. “The only recording should be in our memories.”

  “I have a very good memory,” she replied. Soon, they had finished their drinks and were dozing.

  Stone was shaken awake at seven o’clock. “What time is our dinner table?” Rose asked.

  “My ankle is bothering me,” Stone said. “Do you mind if we order from room service?”

  “Not in the least.” She kissed his ankle.

  “Did you find that technique for healing in a medical textbook?” he asked.

  “No, I made it up. Sort of a home remedy.”

  “Speaking of home, do you have an actual address and phone number?” he asked.

  “Yes, I have a little flat in Ennismore Mews, in Knightsbridge.”

  Stone grabbed a phone pad from the bedside table. “May I have the address and your number?” he asked, handing her the pad and a pen.

  “Of course,” she said, scribbling.

  Stone looked at the pad to be sure it was legible; it was. He read the address aloud, followed by the phone number.

  “Didn’t I give you that before?”

  “No, you left my house like a thief in the night—and with no forwarding address.”

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nbsp; “I apologize. Now you have it all.”

  “What’s it like, performing three hysterectomies in a single day?” he asked.

  She laughed. “You don’t want to know. Men are not good at receiving that sort of information. Suffice it to say that the OR staff handled everything efficiently, and so did I. The worst thing was that I had to change gowns and scrub up three times.”

  “How did a doctor get involved with MI-6?” he asked.

  “You already have my official denial that I am associated with such an organization,” she replied.

  “Do they recruit doctors?”

  “How would I know, not being privy to their practices?”

  “Oh, all right. Next time I see Dame Felicity I’ll tell her I failed to worm anything out of you.”

  “The next time you speak to her, don’t mention my name, or even my existence,” Rose said. “I don’t want me on her mind. I was shocked when she turned up with the col . . . sorry, the brigadier, in tow.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I associated him with Station Two, which is the only place I had ever encountered him.”

  “Somehow, I thought you had known him before,” Stone said.

  “When I arrived at Station Two I reported to him, as everyone does, but I didn’t see him again except on the ward, when he was screaming at you. The next time was at your table at Windward Hall.”

  “Whom did you replace at Station Two on your locum?” Stone asked.

  “That’s an odd question.”

  “I somehow thought there was only one doctor there—the one who doctored my ankle.”

  “The one you met. He came back from his leave a day early.”

  “Why did I never see you around the station before I was in the clinic?”

  “Because I was in the clinic. That was where the work was.”

  “I guess that makes sense. What sorts of things did you treat during your locum?”

  “The only other patient I saw was the fellow you shared the ward with, the one with a broken leg,” she replied. “I was told that they rarely admitted anyone who was sick. Nearly all the admissions were of injuries suffered during training.”