Stone looked at the priest, who avoided his gaze. Then, sooner than Stone had expected, he heard the sound of the trap flying open, followed by a thunk, then silence. He leaned his forehead against the bars; he felt like weeping, but he could not.
The outside door opened, the senior officer and one other stepped inside, and the door closed behind them. The cell door was unlocked and the three men were waved out and marched down the corridor to the front desk.
Allison's duffel sat on the desk, and an officer waited, pen in hand, for Stone to sign for her belongings. Stone signed. "What about the body?" he asked the man.
"The body will be cremated and the ashes scattered at sea," the officer said. "It's how we do things here."
"It is so," Hewitt said. Stone picked up the duffel and walked out of the jail into a lovely St.Marks evening. Hilary Kramer and Jim Forrester were sitting on a bench next to the outside door. Kramer jumped up. "What's happening? Did you hear from the prime minister?"
Stone shook his head. "No."
Forrester stood up, too. "For Christ's sake, Stone, tell us what's happening?"
"Allison was hanged five minutes ago."
Both reporters seemed struck dumb. Kramer's mouth was working, but nothing came out. Forrester turned, leaned against the building, and vomited.
"You can quote me as saying that a monumental injustice has been done," Stone said.
CHAPTER 61
The priest shook hands with both men, then got into his car and drove away. Stone leaned against Thomas's car, which was parked next to Leslie's ancient Morris Minor. "This is completely surreal," he said.
"I know," Hewitt replied, "I feel the same way."
"Leslie, about your fee…"
"It has already been paid."
Stone looked at him, surprised. "By Allison?"
The barrister nodded. "She didn't want any loose ends." He took a thick envelope from his briefcase and handed it to Stone. "She asked me to give you this. She said you were to open it aboard her yacht."
Stone accepted the envelope; it felt as though it contained half a dozen sheets of paper. "All right," he said. "I guess I'll go back there now."
Hewitt held out his hand. "Stone, when you remember St.Marks I hope you will think of more than what has happened today. In ways that you cannot now know, you have helped to make sure that something like this will not happen again."
"How?" Stone asked, puzzled.
"You'll hear from me," Hewitt said. "I'll keep you posted on events here."
"I hope so," Stone said, then looked at the little man closely. "Leslie," he said, "there isn't a senile bone in your body, is there?"
Hewitt burst out laughing. "Let's just say that it helps if certain people believe there are a few such bones."
"You're a crafty man and a fine lawyer. It has been a privilege to work with you."
"Thank you, Stone. I can wholeheartedly say the same of you. I hope that in a little while you will not think badly of me."
"Never," Stone said, then embraced the barrister. Then they got into their cars and drove away.
Stone drove on automatic pilot, slowly, feeling numb and drained. He parked the car behind the Shipwright's Arms and left the keys at the bar, but Thomas was not there.
Stone arrived at the marina in time to see the fast motor yacht making her way out of the harbor, her lights reflecting on the water. The news must have reached her skipper, he thought. He boarded Expansive, dropping Allison's duffel on a saloon couch and switching on the light over the chart table. The rest of the saloon was in shadow, the desk light reflecting off the gleaming wood. He switched on the satellite phone and dialed Bill Eggers's home number.
"Eggers," the voice said.
"It's over," Stone said.
"Stone? What do you mean, over? Did our tactics work?"
"I'm afraid not. She was executed less than an hour ago."
"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, I know how you must feel."
"Yeah. Will you do a press release? I don't have the energy to talk to anybody."
"Sure. I'll call the PR people and get it on the wire services tonight."
"Is Allison's estate going to owe the firm any money?"
"I think we'll have a surplus to return to the executor."
"We'll talk about it when I'm back."
"When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"You know about Arrington and Vance Calder?"
"I got a fax from her."
"I'm sorry about that, Stone; she was a great girl."
"Still is, no doubt; just not mine."
"Let's have dinner later this week."
"Sure; I'll call you."
"Good night, then."
"Good night, Bill. Thanks for all your help." He hung up, thinking he had never been so tired. His body cried out for sleep; Allison's will would have to wait until tomorrow. He didn't think he could make it back to his own yacht, so he went into the after cabin, shucked off his clothes, and collapsed into the bed. Not until then did he allow himself to weep. He wept for Allison and for himself.
CHAPTER 62
Stone dreamed that he and Allison were making love. Then, just as he was about to come, she vanished, and the bed was empty. He stirred and turned over, kicking off the covers. Cool fingers brushed the damp hair from his forehead. He opened his eyes.
"You were dreaming," Allison said.
Stone blinked rapidly. "I still am." He closed his eyes and tried to recapture the dream.
"Stone," she said, quietly but insistently.
Stone jerked as if he had received an electric shock. "Whaaat!" he yelled, sitting up and pushing away from her. He seemed to go from deep sleep to maximum adrenaline in a fraction of a second. His heart hammered against his rib cage, and he made himself look at her. She seemed perfectly normal.
"It's all right, Stone," she said. "Really it is. You're awake; I'm here; I'm alive."
Stone took a deep breath and tried to stop shaking. A moment ago, he had been making love to this woman, and now he was frightened and confused. "Tell me," he said, then took another deep breath.
"I'm sorry to have put you through this," Allison said, "but it had to be done this way. I didn't know for sure myself when they marched me into the courtyard and I saw the gallows. I thought it hadn't worked, that I was done for."
"That what hadn't worked?" Stone panted.
"Leslie's plan."
"What plan?"
"He insisted that I shouldn't tell you; he wanted absolute secrecy."
Stone was recovering from his shock now. "Allison, what the hell are you talking about?"
"We bribed the prime minister."
"You what?"
"Leslie didn't think you would let him do it; that's why we didn't tell you."
"Well, if he had suggested that, I suppose I would have been against it. I would have thought it very risky."
"He told me what we had to do that day out at his cottage, when he sent you for the milk." "The milk he didn't need," Stone said, half to himself.
"Yes, that milk. While you were gone, Leslie told me what he had in mind."
"And what did he have in mind?"
"He said that the only thing that worked with these people was money and not even that would work with Sir Winston Sutherland-he was already too committed to a conviction. The prime minister, though, was another matter. He was retiring, and there was always the chance that he hadn't stolen enough to make him happy, Leslie said."
"And how did Leslie go about this?"
"He said nothing to Sutherland; in fact, he said nothing to anybody. When Leslie handed the appeal to judge, there was a cashier's check for a million dollars in the envelope, along with the appeal document."
"Jesus Christ."
"That's pretty much what I said. It seemed awfully risky, until you consider that at that moment, I had already been convicted and that the prime minister had no motivation to overturn the appeal."
"Didn't the flood of faxes and telephone calls from the States mean anything at all?"
"Merely a nuisance to the old man. He knew he Wouldn't be around all that much longer, and that he wouldn't have to deal with any consequences. Sir Winston is, apparently, his hand-picked boy, and he could deal with the aftermath."