This time Stone thought he heard a more placating sound.
“Perhaps we should talk later in the day, Minister,” she said, “when we have both had time to consider our positions. Good-bye, Minister.” She snapped the phone shut and threw it at her pillow, which was next to Stone.
Stone picked up the phone and placed it on the bedside table next to him. “Come here,” he said, raising an arm. She got back into bed and snuggled close to him.
“I knew he would go off the deep end,” she said.
“Which minister was that?” Stone asked. “Foreign or home?”
“It’s better you don’t know,” she replied.
“From what little I just heard, I would suspect that your position is stronger than you may have thought.”
“Yes,” she replied, “he did climb down off his high horse just a bit toward the end, didn’t he?”
“I also suspect he has realized that, if he can’t get you to do what he wants you to, he has little chance of getting your replacement to do it, either.”
“I hope that is true,” she said, “but if he digs down deep enough in the dung heap, he’ll find somebody who will cheerfully accomplish that particular mission.”
“Dare I ask what that mission is?” Stone asked.
“You dare not,” she said.
“Because then you’d have to kill me?”
“Ha!” she said. “Finally you’ve found a situation that fits that cliché.”
“You did the right thing,” Stone said. “If he sacks you, then you can spend more time with me.”
“Yes, and more time with my horses and dogs, too.”
“The dogs, maybe, depending on how many you have. I don’t think I can house the horses.”
“Then you would just have to come and see me, wouldn’t you? I’ll introduce you to the English country life.”
“Would I enjoy it, do you think?”
“You’d be bored rigid, I do think.” She explored his crotch with a hand. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
STONE WALKED OVER to Jim Hackett’s offices in something of a quandary. He had two clients whose interests were antithetical to each other’s, and he was being forced to choose sides. He did not want to choose sides.
Hackett received him with his usual good cheer. “Coffee?” he asked, waving at a silver Thermos on the table before the sofa.
“Thank you, yes,” Stone replied.
“You look tired,” Hackett said. “First time I’ve seen you look tired.”
“A little,” Stone said, sipping the strong coffee. A large shot of caffeine was what he needed.
“Yesterday you seemed to absorb quickly what Mike and I had to tell you.”
“Thank you. I found it extremely interesting.”
“This company’s activities are a lot to absorb in a single day,” Hackett said, “but you’ll have other opportunities to learn more.”
“Jim,” Stone said, “yesterday you spent a lot of time telling me about the company’s personal protection services.”
“I suppose I did. Do you require personal protection?”
“No,” Stone said, “but I’m afraid you do.”
“I don’t have even one bodyguard,” Hackett said. “I travel alone or with an assistant. The only times I’m guarded are in combat zones, like Iraq and Afghanistan. What do you know that I don’t know, Stone?”
“The odd thing is, I don’t know anything. I only suspect, but I suspect that you should be in a place, at least for a while, where you can see a threat coming from more of a distance than you can on a New York City street.”
Hackett crossed his legs and stared out the window at the city skyline. “Felicity has been talking, has she?”
“No,” Stone replied, “she hasn’t. She’s said absolutely nothing. This morning I was privy to one side of a transatlantic telephone conversation, and while I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, I was alarmed by her reactions.”
“Can you tell me any more than that?”
“I don’t know anything more than that.”
“All right, then,” Hackett said. “I accept that. I don’t suppose your relationship with Felicity precludes you from offering advice, does it?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Then what would you advise me to do?”
“I believe I would advise you to disappear for a while, to go to someplace-Maine, perhaps-no, some place not known to me, so I can’t inadvertently give you away. I think you should abbreviate your communications with this office to the bare minimum or communicate through third parties, and I don’t think you should use a cell phone or any landline known to anyone else. I think you should stay indoors, not in view of the sky, and that you should post armed guards around you.”
Hackett did not respond for a long moment, then, finally, he said, “It’s as bad as that, is it?”
“I hope I’m wrong,” Stone replied, “but I believe it is as bad as that.”
47
Stone got back to his office and found Herbie Fisher waiting for him. Stone tried not to groan.
“Can I talk to you, Stone?”
“Yes, Herbie. Come on in,” Stone said.
Herbie followed him into the office and closed the door behind him.
“What’s wrong, Herbie?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Herbie replied.
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I want you to go to Sheila’s funeral with me,” Herbie said.
“Why, Herbie?”
“Because I don’t want to go by myself. There might be people there who would try to hurt me.”
“I’m not a bodyguard, Herbie, but your uncle Bob can have one or two of the retired cops he knows take care of you.”
Herbie looked away. “I can’t ask Uncle Bob for anything else,” he said. “I’ve asked him for too much over the years, and I’ve promised him that I’ll stand on my own two feet from now on.”
“I see,” Stone said, searching for a way to turn him down.
“I want Dino to come, too.”
Stone brightened. “Tell you what, Herbie, if you can get Dino to come along, I’ll go, too.”
“That’s great, Stone.”
“When is the funeral?”
“In forty-five minutes; we’ve just got time to make it.”
“I don’t think you can corral Dino that quickly, Herbie.”
“He’s outside in my car,” Herbie said.
Stone was now trapped.
“You can charge me for your time,” Herbie said.
Stone sagged. “All right, Herbie.” He stood up and followed Herbie out.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Stone said to Joan.
Dino was, indeed, waiting in Herbie’s Maybach, sipping a Scotch.
Stone got into the back and took a rear-facing seat. “A little early, isn’t it?”
Dino shrugged. “What the hell,” he said.
“Is there any bourbon?” Stone asked Herbie.
Herbie leaned forward and pressed a button. A lid rose, revealing a small bar. “I’ll join you,” he said. “Ice?”
“Please,” Stone replied.
Herbie poured the drinks and sat back.
“Where’s the funeral?” Stone asked.
“At a cemetery in Queens,” Herbie said. “My driver knows the way.”
“So it’s just a burial, not a funeral?”
“What’s the difference?” Herbie asked.
“A funeral usually takes place in a church, a synagogue or a funeral home chapel,” Stone said. “A burial takes place in a cemetery.”
“Oh,” Herbie said. “The only funeral I ever went to was my mother’s, and that was in a cemetery.”
Dino poured himself another drink. “Whatever,” he said.
THE BIG CAR drove through the gates of the cemetery, which turned out to be the one that can be seen from the Long Island Expressway, an incredibly crowded forest of stone.
“How did you get Sheila a plot here?” Stone asked. “I didn’t think there could possibly be any room here.”