by Stuart Woods
“All right,” Stone said, pocketing the phone and the card.
“Tomorrow morning, call Lance Cabot and tell him you’ve arranged with your broker to have the quarter of a million transferred at a moment’s notice, pending Cabot’s satisfying you with the details of the transaction. When he tells you, I suggest you be somewhat less scrupulous than you’ve been so far; don’t be shocked at what the goods turn out to be or to whom they’re to be sold. The more of a buccaneer you seem to be, the more Cabot will be interested in doing business with you. Meantime, we’ll be doing a complete background check on Cabot, Ali, and Sheila.”
“Sounds good,” Stone said.
“Don’t leave the house without telling me, and on a few minutes’ notice, I can provide any transportation you may need. From now on, I want your only tail to be my people.”
“Thank you,” Stone said. He and Dino got out of the van, and it drove away. They trudged up the steps with their luggage and rang the bell.
Sarah answered and threw herself at Dino. “How are you, darling?” she asked. “And how’s Mary Ann?”
“We’re all just great,” Dino said, beaming at her.
“Come on in and get your things put away.” She led them up the stairs. “Dino, you’re in there, and Stone, you come with me.” She led him to a rear bedroom, obviously the master, and then she gave him a long and tantalizing kiss. “Get unpacked and come downstairs; dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
Stone hung up his clothes and put his toiletries in the bathroom, which was large and old, wall-to-wall marble.
The three of them sat around the kitchen table eating lamb chops and drinking an outstanding claret from James’s cellar.
“You won’t believe the wine that’s down there,” she said. “I don’t think that any lot of really fine wine passed through the business that James didn’t grab a case or two of for himself.”
Stone looked at the bottle: a Chateau Haut-Brion ’66. “I never thought I’d be drinking this,” he said.
“Stick around,” Sarah said. “I’ll ruin your liver for you.”
“Sarah, you’re not to tell anyone that Dino and I are staying here.”
“And why not?”
“Because I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Dear, don’t be so old-fashioned.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m involved in some very delicate business, and the competition is unscrupulous. I don’t want them to know my whereabouts. If someone should call you asking for me, you can tell them I’ve moved from the Connaught, but you don’t know where.”
“Oh, all right, if you say so. It’s all very cloak-and-dagger, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose it is.” More than she knew.
After dinner and brandy, Stone went upstairs and turned on the taps in the huge, old-fashioned bathtub. He had just settled in for a soak, with the lights dimmed, when Sarah came into the bathroom. She was quite naked, and it was the first good look he’d had at her that way for a long time.
“How about some company?” she said, sliding into the tub, facing him.
“Mmmm,” he replied, closing his eyes.
A moment later, he felt her hand on his crotch.
“I think we have to get this clean,” she said, and she began soaping it.
Stone held onto the sides of the tub.
“Now it’s clean,” she said, “and we have to get it warm.” She climbed on top of him and brought him inside her. “There,” she sighed. She began moving, slowly, in and out.
Stone responded favorably.
She reached behind her and took his testicles in her hand, still moving, now massaging gently.
Stone sat up and put his arms around her, cupping her buttocks in his hands, helping her move.
“Don’t you dare come before me,” she breathed, moving faster.
Stone ran a finger down between her cheeks, letting it pass lightly back and forth over her anus, then he inserted a finger.
Sarah came explosively, and he was right behind her. They writhed in the tub until they were both spent, then she put her head on his shoulder and wrapped herself around him. “I love a hot bath, don’t you?” she said.
“Oh, yes,” Stone replied. “I don’t know why anyone ever bothered inventing the shower.”
They stayed that way until the water began to get cold, then they dried each other and went into the bedroom, where they started over, this time with Stone on top.
Sarah lifted her legs and put her ankles on Stone’s shoulders. “Now,” she said, “all the way in.”
Stone gave her everything. They lasted longer this time, changing positions, trying this and that—every orifice, every erotic pressure point, until in one final, earth-rocking spasm, they gave in to the climax, both crying out.
From down the hall, Stone heard Dino’s voice.
“Can you two hold it down a little? A guy could get horny.”
“Want me to go take care of that?” Sarah asked Stone from his shoulder.
“Remember Mary Ann,” Stone said. “She’d track you down and kill you. Never underestimate a Sicilian woman.”
“Good point,” Sarah said, and they fell asleep.
47
AFTER BREAKFAST, SARAH LEFT THE house, and Stone called Lance Cabot.
“Hello?” He sounded sleepy.
“It’s Stone; I’m ready to deal on this thing, if you’re ready to talk.”
“How soon can you get the money together?”
“I faxed my broker yesterday; the funds can be transferred with a phone call. But not until you’ve told me everything.”
“Lunch?”
“Where?”
“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 Albert Museum.”
“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.
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 mad
e 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.”
