“Didn’t you hear me say ‘any woman on earth’?”
“Yes, but—”
“But my ass, or rather, bite my ass. And don’t call me again with stupid questions about something you came across on the Internet.” Stone ended the call. Immediately, the phone rang again. He punched the button. “Hello?”
“Mr. Barrington, this is Joe Jerkison from the Drudge Report.”
“Hi, there, got a pencil?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then write this down: I, Stone Barrington, am not the father of any baby carried by any woman on earth. Got it?”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“Bye-bye.” He hung up. The phone began ringing again. This time Stone found a paper clip, inserted it into the hole in the iPhone that opened the case, and disconnected the battery.
Peace!
Then the phone on his bedside table rang. Stone picked up the handset, punched line two, and called the operator.
“How may I help you, Mr. Barrington?”
“I’d like the operator to screen all my calls before putting them through.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Here is a list of names of people from whom I will accept calls.” He rattled off a dozen names. “Anyone else who calls is to be told that I am not available and that it is not known when or if I will be available. Is that clear?”
“And what if the person calling insists on speaking to you?”
“Then hang up.”
“Yes, sir. For how long shall your calls be screened?”
“Until I check out of the hotel.”
“Yes, sir.”
Stone hung up.
28
Stone replaced the battery in his iPhone and rerecorded his answering message to reflect the statement he had given to the AP and the Drudge guy, then he called his office. Busy signal. He reflected on the fact that he had four lines, then he called the cell number of his secretary, Joan.
“Hello, goddammit.”
“Joan?”
“Stone, is that you?”
“It is. Did you confuse me with our Maker?”
“I’m sorry, but the phones have gone nuts here.”
“Same here. Get your steno pad.” She did, and he dictated his statement. “Put that in as the recording on our answering system, then stop answering the phones, until they stop ringing.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You know what I mean. Have I had any calls from people I actually know?”
“Who knows? I stopped answering half an hour ago.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hear from anyone who doesn’t have my cell number. Do you have any idea how the Associated Press and the Drudge Report got my cell number?”
“Those people have ways of getting anybody’s number.”
“Well, don’t tell anyone I’m in Paris, or they’ll start knocking on my door here.” Someone started knocking on the door to his suite, then it got louder. “I’m here, if you need me,” Stone said, then hung up and went to the door.
He checked the peephole and found Holly waiting. “Who is it?”
“Eet ees zee sexual crimes deeveesion of zee Paree gendarmes!”
Stone opened the door. “In that case, come right in.”
Holly came in. “Sorry, I forgot my key card. What’s going on? You look a little frazzled.”
Stone closed the door. “I’m being pursued by multiple members of the media.”
“Maddening!”
“You bet your sweet ass. Some blogger jerk named Howard Axelrod has blogged that Kate Lee is carrying my baby.”
“Well, congratulations to both of you! And to her husband, too, for being so broad-minded.”
“Stop it, you know it isn’t true. Or even possible.”
“I know no such thing,” Holly replied, “and given your nature, it’s certainly possible.”
“I’ve never even been alone with Kate.”
“I believe the standard line is ‘We are just good friends.’”
“Yeah, I’ll try that on the next reporter who calls.”
“You know,” Holly said, “for someone who is being pursued by multiple members of the media, your phones are oddly silent.”
“I’ve had the hotel screen my calls, and—so far, at least—only two of the multiple members of the media have learned my cell number.”
“You know who Howard Axelrod is, don’t you?”
“I do not.”
“That’s okay, neither does anybody else. People have been trying to track him down for months.”
“Why?”
“Because he keeps reporting breaking news before anybody else. I expect Matt Drudge is contemplating suicide by now. The bad news is, Mr. Axelrod is always right.”
“Not anymore, he isn’t.”
“I believe that makes you the exception that proves the rule.”
“That line has never made any sense.”
“Every schoolteacher I’ve ever had has spouted it.”
Stone’s cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and found two lines drawn across the screen and showed it to Holly. “Should I answer it?”
“Sure, and put it on speaker—I could use some entertainment.”
Stone pressed the button. “Yes?”
“It’s me,” Lance drawled.
“I’m sorry, you’ll have to be more specific.”
“Stone, I’ve just had some wonderful news: Kate Lee is carrying your baby!”
Holly broke up.
“I’m so happy for both of you,” Lance said.
“Go fuck yourself, Lance.”
“As much fun as that might be, I’d like to speak to Holly instead. Don’t bother telling me she’s not there—I can hear her chortling.”
Holly took the phone from Stone. “I don’t chortle, Lance, I chuckle.”
“Ah, there you are, Holly. Have you and your two colleagues come up with any decisive information in the matter of John, no middle initial, Simpson?”
“We have not.”
“You haven’t learned how he disposed of the body of the Russian gentleman?”
“We have not. We have no usable information.”
“That is not quite correct,” Lance said. “We know that the Russian combine has a spy inside the Paris police.”
“Well, we know that someone inside the Paris police believes that strongly enough to have someone tortured to learn the alleged spy’s identity.”
“It offends me that that person has used my personnel to try and solve his own problem,” Lance said. “It’s time we put a stop to that sort of thing.”
“And how do we do that?” Holly asked.
“We don’t, really—Stone does.”
“Stone does what?” Stone asked.
“Stone calls his petit bijou, Mirabelle, and tells her that her father might like to know that there’s a Russian combine spy in his prefecture.”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Stone said.
“Why not?”
“Her father appears to have a low opinion of Americans, in general, and those connected to the CIA, in particular. He considers me an American spy and is unlikely to attach any credence to any information originating from me.”
“Then how about her brother?”
“What about her brother?”
“Would you seem a more credible source to him?”
“I’ve met him only once, and in a circumstance unlikely to add to my credibility.”
“Still, in the past Jacques has been able to set personal considerations aside, when it is in his interests to do so.”
“Surely there is a better way to communicate with Jacques Chance than through his sister.”
“If there were a better way, Stone, I would have thought of it. Come along, now, it’s time to do something for your country.”
Stone sighed. “Oh, all right. What do you want me to tell her?”
“Everything you know would do nicely.”
“I don’t know all that much.”
“Just so. Tell her that. Bye-bye.” Lance hung up.
“How did I get mixed up in all this?” Stone said to Holly.
“By fucking the daughter and sister of highly placed French policemen?” Holly suggested.
Stone couldn’t argue with that.
29
Stone picked up the phone. “Now listen,” he said to Holly, “you have to keep your mouth shut while I’m on the phone with Mirabelle, do you understand?”