The Short Forever (22 page)

45

WHEN STONE HAD FINISHED TELLING them everything, Mason just stared at him for a long moment. “Extraordinary,” he drawled.

Stone looked at Carpenter; she nodded.

“Rather,” she said.

He wasn’t sure whether this meant they didn’t believe him. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Well, let me tell you a few things: First, David Beth Alachmy is the new Mossad station chief in London; old Stan was right about that; second, the two chaps in the car were Beth Alachmy’s men; third, the abduction and interrogation of you by Beth Alachmy and his thugs was way, way out of bounds, and I will see that he is suitably punished for it.”

“Thank you, but I don’t really care about that,” Stone replied. “I just want to get this thing over with and get back to New York.”

“Our sentiments exactly,” Mason said. “I hope we can have you out of here in just a few days.”

“Thank you.”

“We’re aware of Lance Cabot and his little consulting business, but this is the first we’ve heard of Ali and Sheila; we’ll be looking into them.”

“Fine.”

“Oh, I assume you do actually have the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars that Cabot wants for his project?”

“Well, yes, in a brokerage account in New York.”

“I think the very first thing you’ll want to do is have that transferred to the offshore account, as Cabot requested.”

“But—”

“Oh, don’t actually give it to him; just let him confirm that you’ve got it in the account. When we’re done, you can wire it back to your brokerage account.”

“I suppose—”

“Now, the first thing we’ve got to do is to get you out of this hotel.”

“Why?” Stone asked plaintively. “I like it here.”

“Because Stan’s people know where to find you, and they can follow you anywhere from here,” Mason said, as if he were explaining things to a child. “Do you have somewhere you can go?”

Stone thought for a moment. “Let me make a phone call.”

“Of course.”

He picked up a phone and called Sarah at her London flat.

“Hi.”

“Well, hello; I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Have our mutual acquaintances cleared out of James’s house?”

“Yes, all gone.”

“Do you mind if Dino and I move in there for a few days? I’ve got to get out of the Connaught; they’re booked up, apparently.”

“Dino’s in London?”

“Yes.”

“Well, of course you can stay there; when do you want to go?”

“Immediately.”

“All right; why don’t I cook us all some dinner over there? James has a decent kitchen, and I can pick up some things on the way.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“See you in an hour?”

“That’s good. Bye.” He hung up and turned to Mason. “We can go to James Cutler’s house in Chester Street.”

“Ah yes, good,” Mason said. “Who is Dino?”

“Dino Bacchetti, my old partner at the NYPD. He got into town yesterday.”

“All right, then; you go and get packed up, and I’ll send someone for your luggage. I believe your bill is going to Stan Hedger?”

“Yes.”

“Good, that solves that. We’ll be taking you out of the hotel by a rear exit.”

“Fine.”

“Oh, by the way, Sam asked me to ask you if Hedger ever gave you any sort of electronic device—a radio, a pager, a clock—to carry around with you?”

“Yes, he gave me a satellite telephone.”

“You’ll want to give that to me; he’s been using it to track your whereabouts.”

Stone felt like a complete ass. “All right.”

“I’ll come and get you in, say, three-quarters of an hour.”

“Good.” Stone left the suite and went back to his own.

Dino was still watching cricket. “You know, I think I’m beginning to get the hang of this game.”

“It’s an illusion; no American will ever understand it.”

“You ready for some dinner?”

“Yes, but Sarah is cooking it for us; get packed, we’re moving out of the hotel.”

“But I like it here,” Dino said. “It’s nice—you push a button and somebody comes to take care of you.”

“I’ve just had a meeting with some British intelligence people, and they want us out of here; they say it’s the only way we’ll ever lose the tail that Hedger put on us.”

“We’re going right now?”

“Very shortly; just get your luggage ready to go.”

Dino switched off the cricket match with reluctance.

At the appointed time, the porter rapped on their door. “Good evening, Mr. Barrington. I’m to take your bags down to the kitchen.”

“There they are,” Stone said, pointing to the pile. “Mr. Bacchetti’s, too.”

“There’s a lady waiting for you at the lift.”

Stone and Dino walked to the elevator, where Carpenter was waiting for them, the door open. He introduced Dino.

Once in the elevator, Carpenter inserted a key into a lock and turned it. “This will get us to the lower level,” she said.

Stone watched her on the way down; she really was very attractive, in her muted way. The lift doors opened, and Carpenter led them down a hallway, past the kitchens, and out a rear door. There were three identical gray vans waiting outside, and the porter was loading their luggage into the middle one.

Mason appeared from behind them. “Give me Hedger’s phone,” he said.

Stone took the phone from an inside pocket and handed it to him.

Mason looked around him, then spotted a truck unloading seafood for the hotel. He tossed the phone over the crates of fish into the rear of the truck. “There,” he said. “That will keep your tail busy. Get into the center van.”

Stone and Dino climbed into the rear seat with Carpenter, while Mason got into the front.

“We’ll wait until the fish lorry goes,” he said.

As if on command, the truck started up and moved out of the mews, then turned right at the street.

“Wait,” Mason said. “Let them register the move.” He glanced at his watch. Two minutes passed, then Mason said, “Now; turn left at the end.”

The three vans moved out.

“Why do I feel like a load of laundry?” Dino asked.

“This would be your policeman friend?” Mason asked.

“Yes,” Stone said. “This is Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, of the New York Police Department.”

“Enchanted,” Mason drawled, without turning around.

“Yeah, me too,” Dino said.

The three vans drove into Grosvenor Square and at the next corner, each went in a different direction, none of them toward James’s house.

“The house is in Chester Street, off Belgrave Square,” Stone reminded Mason.

“I know, old chap,” Mason said. “We’re just going to lead any possible tail on a merry chase before we turn for home. I’ve visited the house, actually. James Cutler and I were at Eton together a couple of hundred years ago. He was a good chap, and I’m grateful to you for what you tried to do for him.” He paused. “I’m not so sure about this Miss Sarah Buckminster.”

Dino dug Stone in the ribs.

46

THEY ARRIVED AT THE CHESTER STREET house, and the van’s driver set Stone’s and Dino’s luggage on the sidewalk.

“We won’t come in,” Mason said. He handed Stone a tiny cellphone, its charger, and an extra battery. “If anyone asks, you rented this through the concierge at the Connaught.” He handed Stone an index card with a list of numbers written on it. “These are my and Carpenter’s cellphone numbers,” he said. “If there’s no answer, you’ll have an opportunity to leave a message, and one of us will get back to you quickly. I suggest you memorize them and destroy the card. Your number is there, too.”

“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.