“Right.”
Stone sat for a few minutes, still breathing hard. He looked at the invitation on his desk to a White House dinner.
Joan buzzed. “Your banker on the line.”
Stone picked up the phone. “This is Stone Barrington.”
“Mr. Barrington, I have received a fax on your letterhead instructing me to wire the sum of twelve million, six hundred and fifty thousand dollars to Sotheby’s. Do you authorize this transaction?”
“I authorize it,” Stone said.
“Thank you. The wire will go out within the hour.”
Stone hung up, and Joan buzzed him immediately. “Jamie Niven on one.”
Stone pressed the button. “Good morning, Jamie.”
“Good morning, Stone, and congratulations! You’ve done very well for the Fiske estate.”
“Thank you, Jamie, and my compliments on your conduct of the sale.”
“Frankly, I thought it would go for nine million, maybe nine and a half.”
“Fortunately, you had an idiot for a bidder. I’ve already instructed my bank to wire you the funds.”
“We thank you for prompt payment. What disposition of the necklace would you like me to make?”
“You may messenger it to me at my office.”
“It shall be done.” The two men said goodbye and hung up.
Joan buzzed. “Holly Barker on one.”
“Hello?”
“Good morning. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, and I’ve arranged the appointment you requested. The gentleman will be at the White House at five-thirty tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the West Wing entrance and take you to him.”
“Thank you.”
“What is this all about, Stone?”
“You will know soon enough, but not too soon.”
“Will your business take more than an hour? We’re due in the family quarters at six, for drinks.”
“I think not. We won’t keep the Lees waiting.”
“I’ll see you then.” They hung up.
Joan buzzed again. “A Sheriff Raimundo Martinez on line two.”
Stone pressed the button. “Ray? How are you?”
“Very well, Stone. Last week I received a letter from the New York district attorney, offering my county first position for the prosecution of two people for the murder of Carrie Fiske.”
“Congratulations.”
“I’ve got ahold of a state airplane, and I’m going to complete the extradition in New York tomorrow. If you’re around, I’ll buy you a drink first.”
“I’d like that, but I’m on my way to Washington, D.C., tomorrow for a dinner.”
“In that case, all I have to do is to thank you for all your help in catching these people.”
“You’re very welcome, Ray, and if you’re ever in New York again, I’ll take you up on that drink.” The two men said goodbye and hung up.
Joan appeared at the door. “I got a call from Sotheby’s. There are two armed guards on the way over here with the necklace.”
“That was fast,” Stone said. “I guess they wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible.”
61
Stone landed at Manassas, Virginia, at three PM, and what with traffic, arrived at the West Wing entrance to the White House a little before five, carrying his suitcase and a shopping bag. Holly came from her office to meet him, already dressed for dinner.
“The gentleman is waiting for you in the Situation Room,” she said, kissing him. “It was the only room available. What’s in the shopping bag?”
“You will see shortly.”
She led him down the hall and into an ordinary-looking conference room.
“This is the Situation Room?” he asked. “I thought it would be underground and festooned with video monitors and flashing lights.”
“Nope, this is it.”
A well-dressed man was seated at one end of the table. He rose and offered his hand.
“Stone, this is Dr. Anthony Bill, the secretary of the Smithsonian Institution. Dr. Bill, this is the President’s friend, Stone Barrington.”
The two men shook hands, and they all sat down. “I must say, Mr. Barrington,” Dr. Bill said, “I’m a bit mystified as to the purpose of our meeting.”
Stone set the shopping bag on the table, removed the rosewood box, and set it before Dr. Bill. “I wish to make an anonymous contribution to the Smithsonian,” he said, then opened the box.
Bill gazed at the necklace for a moment. “My goodness,” he said. “Of course, I recognize it. I watched the sale on closed-circuit television.”
Stone took a legal-sized envelope from the shopping bag, opened it, and handed him a document. “This is a deed of gift, which states that only you may know the identity of the donor,” Stone said. “It also provides that the necklace will reside at the White House, except at times when the Smithsonian wishes, with the permission of the President, to display it. It also specifies that the necklace is for the exclusive use of female presidents of the United States, first ladies and first daughters, and others, at the discretion of the President. If you find those terms acceptable, we can complete the transaction at this time.”
Dr. Bill read the document quickly, took a pen from his pocket, and signed both copies. Stone signed them, gave one to Dr. Bill, then closed the box and returned it to the shopping bag. “Now, if you will excuse me, Dr. Bill, I will deliver this to the President.”
“On behalf of the Smithsonian,” Dr. Bill said, “I accept your incredibly generous gift, and I thank you most sincerely.” They shook hands, Dr. Bill left, and Holly led Stone toward the family quarters.
“I guess this means that I’ll never get to wear the necklace,” she said.
“Perhaps the President will make an exception in your case.”
“Did you really pay all that money for it, like the papers said?”
“Well, my fee as executor of Carrie Fiske’s estate was a small percentage of its value, so it all evened out pretty well.”
They took the elevator upstairs and were admitted to the family quarters by a Secret Service agent.
The Lees were seated in the living room, along with the British prime minister and his wife. Introductions were made and drinks ordered.
“Madam President,” Stone said, reaching into the shopping bag. “I’ve brought you something to wear to the dinner tonight, if you choose to do so.” He handed her the rosewood box.
Kate opened the box, and her jaw dropped. Stone handed her the deed of gift, and she read it and handed it to Will. She stood up and removed her necklace. “Stone, will you do the honors?”
Stone stood, placed the necklace around her neck, and secured it.
Kate looked in the mirror behind her. “A perfect fit,” she said, then turned to her husband. “You, my darling, have a lot of catching up to do come Christmas.”
Author’s note
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