“That’s a very good start,” she said. “I’m having lunch with Dame Felicity Devonshire tomorrow, and I’d like you both there. She already knows about Larry and Curly. Millie, I’d like you to brief her on what we know about Moe.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Millie said. She and Holly rose and returned to their cabin. To Millie’s surprise, one of the three chairs was occupied by the secretary of state, former senator Sam Meriwether, who greeted them cordially.
Pretty good company you’re traveling in, Millie, she thought.
31
Dino got a phone call in the middle of lunch. He listened, then covered the phone. “We’re invited to have dinner with the commissioner of Metropolitan Police,” he called to Stone. “You two up for that?”
“Sure,” Stone called back.
Dino spoke into the phone again, then hung up. “The Garrick Club at eight o’clock,” he said.
“Sounds great.” Stone had been to the Garrick Club a couple of times, and he loved the place.
Tony deposited them in front of the Garrick Club. “I’ll be nearby,” he said, handing Stone his card.
They walked into the club and up a few stairs. They were met in the entrance hall by a couple.
“Sir Martin,” Dino said, shaking his hand. “This is my wife, Vivian, and my friends Stone Barrington and Pat Frank. This is Sir Martin Beveridge and his wife, Elizabeth.”
Everyone shook hands and they went into the main dining room, where the walls were hung with portraits of famous actors and paintings of scenes from various dramas. They were seated at a round corner table and champagne was brought. Sir Martin raised his glass. “To Anglo-American friendship,” he said, and they drank. “Now,” Sir Martin continued, “we are Martin and Liz — I hope we may all be informal.”
Everyone murmured assent, and they drank their champagne.
Stone looked up to see two couples entering the dining room and being seated a few tables away. “Look who’s here,” he whispered to Pat. One of the men was Paul Reeves.
“Ignore him,” Pat whispered back.
The conversation over dinner was about everything but police matters, until, as dessert arrived, their host turned toward Dino. “Dino, I want you to know that I am grateful to your people for alerting us to the presence of a fugitive American, this Keyes fellow, a double murderer, I believe.”
“You’re very welcome, Martin, but you should know that it was Stone who alerted my people to his presence here.”
“Then I extend our thanks to you, too, Stone.”
“You’re welcome, Martin, and you should also know that the man who transported Keyes to Britain in his private jet, however unknowing he may have been, is sitting three tables from us to your right, with his back against the wall. His name is Paul Reeves.”
“In my club? Good God!” There was irony in his voice. “One can’t go anywhere these days without encountering the criminal classes.”
Pat spoke up. “I should tell you, Martin, that Mr. Reeves is a respected businessman in his hometown of Dallas, Texas. I’ve known him for some years, and I’m sure he has no idea that Kevin Keyes is a wanted man.”
“However,” Stone said, “Mr. Reeves might be helpful in locating Keyes.”
“Would you excuse me for a moment, please?” Martin said. He rose and left the room, then returned a couple of minutes later. Nothing more was said of Reeves or Keyes.
They lingered over port and Stilton for a while, then made their way to the foyer and their coats. Reeves and his party had left five minutes ahead of them. As they said their goodbyes at the curb, where Tony and the commissioner’s cars were waiting, Stone heard his name called. He looked across the street and saw Paul Reeves talking to two men, while the rest of his party stood by waiting.
“Stone!” Reeves called again.
“I’ll be right back,” Stone said to his group. He walked across the street. “What is it?” he asked.
“I’m being questioned by the police,” Reeves said, “and I need a lawyer.”
“I’m afraid I’m not licensed to practice in Britain,” Stone said. “I suggest you be as helpful to the police as you possibly can, and if you are further detained, call the American embassy and ask for legal assistance.”
“Thanks a lot,” Reeves said acidly to Stone’s departing back.
“What was that about?” Dino asked when they were in the car.
“Reeves wanted a lawyer. I told him I’m unlicensed here and to cooperate with the police, and if he needs further help, to call the embassy.”
“How do you know this guy Reeves?”
“I met him for the first time at Turnbull & Asser this afternoon.”
“And you, Pat?”
“On the recommendation of Cessna, I handled the acceptance of his new airplane from the factory,” she said. “His insurance company had recommended me as a mentor pilot when he bought his last airplane a few years ago. That’s it.”
“Perhaps these coincidences will come to an end now,” Stone said. “Dino, we’re getting out of here to go to the country tomorrow morning. Pat checked, and you’re okay to remain in the suite. We’ll be back in a few days.”
32
Millie waited with Holly in a closed road behind the American embassy for the president to come down.
Holly looked around her. “The last time I was here someone had driven a delivery truck into this alley and unloaded a large crate outside that door down there.” She pointed. “When the bomb it contained went off, it blew a chunk out of the building and injured people in every direction. There were a couple of dozen dead, too.”
Millie didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t respond.
Her phone rang, and she answered it. “Yes?”
“It’s Quentin,” he said.
“Pretty early in the morning in California, isn’t it?”
“I’m back in D.C. I took the red-eye, and I haven’t been to bed yet.”
“Anything new?”
“We met with the head of the business school at UCLA yesterday afternoon.”
“Did you get anywhere?”
“We didn’t have a name or a photograph, but when I described Riis and his taste in fashion and cars, the president’s executive assistant, who had been a student at the time, remembered him, and they even had a record of him. He was registered under the name of Harold Charles St. John Malvern, and his record showed him as having studied at Eton and Oxford. He was at UCLA for a little more than a semester, right before he turned up at Berkeley as Jacob Riis. He was British and something of a ladies’ man, it seems. Our office out there is trying to run down some of his female acquaintances, and, overnight, his record at UCLA was scrutinized. He was highly recommended by the head of his college at Oxford, the headmaster at Eton, and two members of the House of Lords — all forged, of course, but beautiful forgeries that impressed our lab. The letterheads were real, and the signatures appeared to be genuine, until the gentlemen denied any knowledge of Harry, as he was called.”
“Good work!”
“It’s ongoing. I’m going to get some sleep now, and I’ll call you when I have more. Bye.”
A gate at the other end of the alley opened and, led by two Metropolitan Police vehicles and followed by as many black SUVs, the president’s limousine pulled up by the door where the bomb had been placed. Holly and Millie waited by the car until the president emerged a minute later, talking on her cell phone, and they followed her into the car.
Millie sat back in her jump seat and was impressed by the foot-thick car doors and the two-inch-thick glass in the windows. She had never felt safer. The president continued her phone conversation until they had driven through an alley behind the anonymous building that housed MI6 and had been greeted at the door by Dame Felicity Devonshire. Only then did she hang up her phone and introduce Holly.