Foreign Affairs

by Stuart Woods

  “You have a choice of seating,” Stone said to Hedy. “In the copilot’s seat or in the cabin.”

  “You weren’t kidding when you said you flew yourself?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’ll take the copilot’s seat,” she said.

  “Do you want me to have you met at the other end?” Hal asked.

  “I don’t think so, we’re not quite so hot in Paris.”

  He got Hedy seated and buckled in, then closed the door and began running through his checklist. He started the engines, then entered the flight plan into the computer and checked the weather report. Shortly they were at the end of the runway and cleared for takeoff.

  “Here we go,” Stone said to Hedy.

  “What should I hold on to?”

  “It’s just like the airlines, relax.” He pushed the throttles forward and the airplane accelerated quickly. He rotated, then raised the landing gear and the flaps and switched on the autopilot.

  Hedy made a swooshing sound.

  “Have you been holding your breath?” Stone asked.

  “Yes, I didn’t even realize it.”

  “The autopilot is flying the airplane now,” he said. “It will continue to do so until we’re on final approach to Le Bourget.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I don’t think anything will make you feel better,” Stone said, “but it’s too late to get out and walk.”

  —

  An hour and a half later the airplane touched down at Le Bourget.

  “Well, that was fairly painless,” Hedy said, when Stone had shut down the engines.

  “It usually is,” Stone said. Stone got out of the pilot’s seat and opened the door. A large car pulled up to the airplane, and Stone unlocked the luggage compartment and began handing the driver their bags.

  Reflexively, Stone looked around the ramp for suspicious cars or people. He saw nothing, but somehow, he didn’t feel relieved.

  15

  When they arrived at the entrance to Stone’s mews in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, the gates were open; Joan had arranged for them to be expected. As they got out of the car, the gates closed.

  “Wow,” Hedy said, looking around the mews. “This is beautiful.”

  “That’s what I thought when I first saw it,” Stone said.

  “This is the first thing I’m going to paint,” she said.

  “And I will be the customer for your painting.”

  The driver took their bags inside. Stone introduced Hedy to the housekeeper, Marie, who then took the driver and the luggage upstairs to the master suite.

  Hedy walked into the living room and looked around. “This is like a beautiful set in a French movie.”

  “That’s not exactly an accident,” Stone said. “Although the house was sparsely furnished when I bought it, I hired a woman who has a shop around the corner to decorate it to my specifications. Her shop specializes in supplying movie set designers with furnishings. By the way, there’s an artist’s supply shop a couple of doors down from her. They should have what you need.”

  “Then I’m going there now,” Hedy said. “Which way?”

  “Out the gate, take a right, and it’s half a dozen shops down the street.” He took a key from a kitchen drawer and gave it to her. “This will get you back in through the door in the gate.”

  Hedy departed, and Marie returned with the driver. Stone tipped him and sent him on his way.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Barrington,” Marie said in her heavily accented English. “How long will you be with us?”

  “I’m not sure, Marie, a few days, at least.”

  “I’ve prepared some food for dinner tonight. May I get you some lunch? Perhaps an omelet?”

  “Let’s wait until Hedy comes back.”

  “As you wish.” Marie disappeared into the kitchen.

  Stone sat down in the living room and phoned Marcel in Rome.

  “Hello, Stone, I tried to call you at the Hassler, but you had gone, and your cell phone didn’t answer.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Marcel. The security people insisted that I disable it. I’ll have it working again in a few minutes.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In Paris. We had a threat, and I thought it best to get out of town for a bit. How is it going there?”

  “Michael Freeman’s people have been excellent. It seems that I was not as secure here as I had thought.”

  “Have there been any incidents since I saw you?”

  “Only that Mr. Casselli continues to call each day, and I continue to refuse to speak to him. The new construction company begins today clearing away the ruins of the old hotel. They will be ready to start construction in a week or so. The architects have produced elevations and infrastructure plans already, and they are beautiful. My instructions to them were to make the building look as if it has always been there.”

  “Perfect.”

  “I believe Dino has been trying to reach you. He called here a couple of times.”

  “I’ll call him right away.”

  “Have a good time in Paris. Will you be coming here afterwards?”

  “If you need me.”

  “I’ll try not to, but you never know.”

  Stone said goodbye and then called Dino, who was still in his office.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I had to disappear for a few days, and Mike’s people insisted I disable my cell phone. Not soon enough, though. Casselli’s people managed to track me down. We arrived in Paris an hour and a half ago.”

  “Ah, Paris.”

  “Why don’t you and Viv join me for a few days?”

  “I’ll see if I can think of a good enough excuse. In the meantime, I’ve spoken with a man named Massimo Bertelli, in Rome, who is head of the Italian Anti-Mafia Investigative Department, or DIA, and asked him advice on how you should proceed.”

  “I’d be grateful for his advice,” Stone replied.

  “He’s assigned a special team to monitor your situation and to take such action as is required. He says to stonewall Casselli, to give him nothing. He’s unaccustomed to that sort of stand, and it will rattle him.”

  “That is exactly what Marcel and I have done and will continue to do, though I have to say he’s managed to rattle us.”

  “You’re better off in Paris. There’s nothing you can do in Rome but advise Marcel, and you can do that on the phone.”

  “I don’t want to run out on Marcel.”

  “Don’t overestimate your importance.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Let me talk to Viv and see what her schedule is, then I’ll get back to you about coming to Paris.”

  “Do that, it would be good to see you both.” Stone hung up.

  Hedy was just coming through the door. “I got what I needed,” she said. “Everything will be delivered in an hour.”

  “Lunch?”

  “Great.”

  “An omelet?”

  “Perfect.”

  Stone went to the kitchen and gave Marie their order.

  He went back to the living room, found his cell phone, and reinstalled the SIM chip, then put it into his pocket. Less than a minute passed before it rang. He checked the caller ID window, but got nothing. “Hello?”

  “This is Leonardo Casselli,” a voice said.

  Stone hung up. He removed the SIM chip, then used the landline to call Joan in New York.

  “You got there okay?”

  “I did. I’d like you to do something for me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Please go to the Apple store and buy me a new iPhone, with a new number. Get it authorized and working, then FedEx it to me in Paris.”

  “You lose the old one?”

 
“No, I just don’t want to use it. I’ll back up the new one to the iCloud and get all my files and apps onto the new phone.”

  “Will do.”

  Stone put his phone and the SIM chip into his briefcase; he could live a day without using it.

  The omelet was perfect.

  16

  After lunch, Hedy took her easel and paints into the mews, picked a spot, set up, and began to paint. Stone found a half-finished book next to his easy chair and set about finishing it. He read until the shadows outside were long, then he put his head back and dozed for a while.

  He was awakened by the slamming of the front door. Hedy came into the room, wiping paint from her hands, and kissed him on the forehead. “Sorry about the noise, the door got away from me.” She held up the painting.

  “Wonderful!” he said. “And sold!”

  “It’s my gift to you for keeping me entertained and safe, not necessarily in that order.”

  The phone rang, and Stone picked it up. “Hello?”

  “It’s Dino. We’re booked on a late plane, and we should be at your house by ten tomorrow morning.”

  “Then I’ll put sheets on the bed. See you then.” He hung up. “My friend Dino Bacchetti and his wife, Viv, are joining us for a few days. They’ll be here mid-morning tomorrow.”

  “Oh, good. He’s the cop, right?”

  “New York City’s top cop.”

  “Then I’ll feel even safer. When’s dinner?”

  “At seven.”

  “Then I’m going to have a bath and change.” She kissed him again and went upstairs.

  Stone went into the kitchen and asked Marie to get a guest room ready. She nodded, then went on cooking.

  —

  The following morning Stone was awakened by the doorbell, and a moment later Marie knocked on the door and entered. “Federal Express,” she said, handing him a package.

  “It’s my new phone,” he said to Hedy, who was stirring.

  “Why a new phone?”

  “Because Casselli doesn’t have the number.”

  They had breakfast in bed, then showered and went downstairs to greet their guests. At the stroke of ten, the gate bell rang, and Stone buzzed in the car carrying the Bacchettis. He embraced them both, then introduced them to Hedy, while the driver and Marie made their luggage disappear.

  “Breakfast?” he asked them.

  “We had it on the plane,” Dino said. “Just coffee, after we’ve cleaned up a little.”

  —

  They came down looking brighter, and Stone gave them his new phone number. “Put that in your phone,” he said to both of them.

  “Why the new number?”

  “Because Casselli has the old one, and I got tired of hanging up on him.”

  They settled into the living room for coffee.

  “I’ve done a little research on Casselli,” Dino said. “He has a record in New York going back to his teens, but about fifteen years ago he came over all respectable and started giving money to hospitals and museums.”

  “Sounds like he was using Eduardo Bianchi as his model.”

  “Maybe so. But he got his fingers caught in a wringer when one of his people started talking to the FBI. They put the guy in the Witness Protection Program and the U.S. attorney started putting together a RICO indictment for Casselli. He didn’t stick around for the service of the papers. He got on a plane to Rome, and he’s been there ever since. He has a house in Naples, too, and a place in Positano, where you met him.”

  “How did the Italian Mob receive him?”

  “Coldly, at first, but they warmed up after a couple of big dons suddenly disappeared, never to be heard from again, and pretty soon Casselli was in the driver’s seat. It took him a little less than a year. Since then, nobody has challenged him. Except Marcel, of course, and you.”

  “It’s not like we want to take turf from him.”

  “No, you’re already on his turf, and he expects to get his pound of flesh from anybody who treads there.”

  “I don’t think I can spare a pound of flesh,” Stone said.

  “That’s my boy, just keep annoying him until he rears up and disappears you.”

  “That’s encouraging.”

  “I just want you to know what you’re up against. Casselli has a long memory, and he can be very patient. The downside is, he can be very impatient, too.”

  “Maybe I should have Mike’s people get Marcel out of Rome and back to Paris.”

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “By reminding him how close he came to losing everything to the Russians last year.”

  “I don’t think Marcel is accustomed to feeling vulnerable,” Dino said. “Maybe you’re underestimating him.”

  “I hope so,” Stone said.

  17

  It was nearly lunchtime when Stone’s new cell phone rang, and the caller ID number was blocked. “Hello?” he said cautiously, prepared to hang up again if it was Casselli.

  “Stone, it’s Lance,” Lance Cabot said.

  “Lance, how did you get this number?”

  “And good day to you, too. Is there some reason I shouldn’t have this number?”

  “Yes, I’ve had it for no more than a couple of hours, and I got it for the specific reason that—”

  “Yes, yes, I know about all of that. Mr. Casselli was making a pest of himself.”

  “Right, and if you can get the number, can’t Casselli?”

  “I very much doubt it—after all, I’m the director of fucking Central Intelligence, and I can get anybody’s number. I don’t believe Leo Casselli can. Do you mind very much speaking to me?”

  “Of course not, I’m just concerned that I was so easy to find.”

  “Oh, all right, when I got an out-of-order recording on your old number, I called your secretary, Joan, and she gave me the new one. I don’t think she would give it to Casselli, so stop worrying.”

  “All right, I won’t worry.”

  “Actually, perhaps you should worry just a little, because Casselli called you yesterday and was connected to your old number for a couple of seconds.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  “That was long enough for him to get a fix on your general location, if he has the right equipment, and I’m sure he does, so you should assume he knows you’re in Paris.”

  “Swell.”

  “But, if you hung up immediately, he probably doesn’t have your street address.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Don’t be relieved too quickly, he might have gotten it.”

  “Oh?”

  “But don’t worry, I’ve got a fix on Casselli’s phone, and he’s still in Rome.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Of course, he may be sending his minions to Paris as we speak.”

  “I can’t win, can I?”

  “Of course, if they don’t have your street address, they can’t find you, can they?”

  “It’s always so reassuring to talk to you, Lance.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I suppose you’re wondering why I’m calling.”

  “That crossed my mind.”

  “Rick LaRose is going to come to see you.” Rick was the Paris station chief for the Central Intelligence Agency.

  “It’s always a pleasure to see Rick.”

  “Not this time. He’s going to ask you to do something you won’t want to do.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “I can’t talk about it on the phone. Rick will explain it all when you see him.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic, Stone, it doesn’t suit you.”

  “Would you prefer irony?”

  “That doesn’t suit you, either.”r />
  “And what is Rick going to do for me, in return for my doing something for you that I won’t want to do?”

  “He’s going to keep Casselli and his friends from capturing you and barbecuing you on a spit.”

  “Is that what Casselli wants to do to me?”

  “He did that to someone very recently—last week, I think.”

  “You’re just trying to frighten me.”

  “I am, because you should be frightened. Under Casselli’s thin veneer of respectability, he’s really a vile and barbaric creature. I wouldn’t put anything past him. I could tell you stories from our file on him that would turn your hair white.”

  “Don’t, please.”

  “If you’re nice to Rick, I won’t.”

  “I’ll be as nice to him as I can be, under the circumstances.”

  “I was looking for a more unqualified response.”

  “That’s the best I can do—under the circumstances.”

  “I suppose. I understand the new girl, Ms. Kiesler, is very nice.”

  “You know about her, too?”

  “Stone, we’ve known each other for a long time—when are you going to get used to the fact that I know everything about everybody?”

  “Never.”

  “Would you like me to tell you something about Ms. Kiesler that you don’t know?”

  “Thank you, no. I’d prefer to hear it from her.”

  “As you wish, but she may prefer to keep it from you.”

  “As she wishes.”

  “If your curiosity overwhelms you, call me.”

  “Goodbye, Lance.”

  “Goodbye, Stone.”

  18

  Hedy took her easel back into the mews and set it up, while Stone returned to his book. He had been reading for no more than ten minutes when a chime chimed. It took Stone a moment to remember what rang the chime, then it came to him: it rang when somebody opened the door in the big gates. By the time he got to his feet, somebody was ringing the doorbell.

  He opened the door to find Rick LaRose, as predicted. “Hello, Stone,” Rick said, smiling and offering his hand.

  “How did you get in?” Stone asked.