“Assistant DDO.”
“And now you are assistant director! A great leap. I’m sure Kate was very deliberate in leaving out the ‘to’ between ‘assistant’ and ‘director.’”
Holly smiled. “She’s always deliberate.”
“Yes! Not a hothead, our Kate.”
“Not in my experience.”
“I expect her cool confidence comes from the proximity of the man who appointed her.”
“I think it comes from her core, and I think being married to Will Lee has as many pitfalls as advantages.”
“I can’t keep up with American politics.”
“Don’t even try.”
He laughed. “And soon she will be gone, with her husband. What then for the ambitious at Langley?”
“Anxiety, I should think.”
“And it’s already begun, hasn’t it? The removal of Stewart and Greg must have got their attention!”
“I left the country only hours after I was appointed, so I wasn’t around to hear the chatter. I hear you roam far and wide, Hamish. What brings you to London?”
“Why, the pleasure of meeting you, Holly,” he replied smoothly, “and also my curiosity about what message Kate has sent me. She has sent me a message, hasn’t she?”
“She has.”
“Well, let’s order first to get the waitress out of our hair-pardon me, your hair,” he said, stroking his bald pate.
“I’ll have the steak-and-kidney pie,” Holly said, “and whatever wine you’re ordering.”
Hamish crooked a finger at the waitress, who came over. “Each of us will have the steak-and-kidney pie, with chips,” he said to her, “and a bottle of the Corton ’99.”
The woman jotted down the items and left.
“And now,” Hamish said, “I can’t wait to hear from Kate.”
“Have you ever heard of a hotel in Los Angeles called The Arrington?”
“Of course. Opening soon, isn’t it?”
“Quite soon, and with a big splash. The presidents of the United States and Mexico will be in attendance, which, as you might imagine, has cranked up the Secret Service and the hotel’s security operation.”
“I can imagine.”
The waitress delivered their food and wine, and they spent a few minutes eating and chatting idly.
Later, as they were finishing the wine, Holly got back to business. “Something troubling happened recently. The NSA in-tercepted a cell phone call from Afghanistan to Yemen, in which the words ‘The Arrington’ stood out.”
“Well, I don’t imagine that the hotel’s public relations people had reached as far as Afghanistan.”
“Apparently, neither did anyone else imagine that,” Holly said.
“So what would Kate like me to do?”
“She’d like you to canvass your contacts in Europe and the Middle East for anything pointing to a possible planned attack on the hotel. There could be mischief afoot.”
“I suppose I could do that,” Hamish said, “but if I start calling around, then the NSA would suddenly be picking up mentions of The Arrington all over Europe and the Middle East, which would disturb them even more.”
“You have a point,” Holly said. “Let’s not get them any more excited than they already are.”
“Then I will need to speak to some people face-to-face, if we wish not to provoke a red alert in American intelligence circles.”
“A wise suggestion, I think. How long will it take you to manage it?”
“I think that, if I leave tomorrow morning in a small jet, I could do it in four or five stops: say, a week?”
“Are you contemplating chartering a jet aircraft on our nickel?”
Hamish smiled. “That is exactly the question Kate would ask, were she here. Fortunately, I have access to a Citation Mustang belonging to a friend. All it will cost Kate is the fuel.”
“What about the pilot?”
“Oh, I am the pilot,” Hamish said, “and I am already bought and paid for.”
“I have a friend in New York who flies that airplane,” Holly said, thinking of Stone, something she had been doing a lot lately.
“How fortunate for him,” Hamish said. “Do you fly?”
“A Piper Malibu,” Holly replied. “No jet time, as yet.”
“Lovely airplane. Of course, there will be the usual attendant expenses: airport handling, hotels, etcetera.”
“Within reason,” Holly said, imagining Hamish in a huge suite in a fabulous hotel.
“Always,” Hamish replied. “Would you care to come with me? It should be an enlightening and pleasant trip.”
Holly thought that traveling to exotic places in a jet with Hamish McCallister at the controls would not be unpleasant. “I’m required elsewhere,” she said.
“Perhaps another time,” Hamish said, locking his eyes on hers.
Holly felt a blush coming on and coughed into her napkin. “There’s one other thing to look for: any mention of the word ‘Nod.’”
Hamish frowned. “In what context?”
“Any context you might come across. It appears to be the code name of an operative. It was sent in an e-mail from California to a suspected al Qaeda website that is being watched.”
“Was the message translated?”
“It read, in its entirety, ‘All is well. I am fine. Nod.’”
“I see. Sounds like someone has accomplished some task.”
“That’s how it seems to us, too. We need to know more.”
Hamish handed her a card. “These are all my contact numbers and e-mail addresses, should you ever need to reach me.”
“Thank you.”
Hamish glanced at his watch. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some flight planning and other preparations to make, so that I can get an early start tomorrow.” He tossed off the remainder of his wine. “Would you mind getting the bill? It should be easier for you to reclaim expenses than I.”
“Not at all.”
Hamish stood and offered his hand. “A great pleasure. Must run. Will you be in London when I get back?”
“Maybe, I’m not sure. In any event, you know how to reach me.”
“Of course. Must run.” And he did.
18
Stone cooked dinner for himself and Marla Rocker, whom he had been seeing for many weeks. After dinner, they repaired to his bed and did what they usually did after dinner.
When they were finished, Marla said, “I’m sorry I can’t come to California with you for the hotel opening, but I’m beginning to get very busy with Peter’s play.”
“I’m sorry, too, though I understand your reasons.”
“In fact, when you get back, it’s going to be difficult for me to see much of you.”
That set off a little ping in Stone’s frontal lobe; he read it as the first evidence of a dump to come. “Oh?”
“I have a musical that will fall hot on the heels of Peter’s play, and an actor I’ve been close to will be starring.”
So an old boyfriend was back in the picture. “I think I can see where this is headed,” Stone said.
“It’s not you, Stone. You’re a lovely man, and I’ve enjoyed our time together. I hope…”
“That we’ll always be friends? Of course.”
“I’m glad you understand,” she said, sounding relieved. She put her feet on the floor and started reaching for clothes. “I can’t stay over-early start tomorrow, and I have to be fresh.”
A moment later, after a quick hug and kiss, she was gone.
Really gone, Stone thought. He looked at the bedside clock. Nine-thirty, and he wasn’t even sleepy. He reached for the TV remote control.
When Stone awoke, it was nearly seven A.M. and Morning Joe was on the TV. His phone rang. “Hello?”
“Are you really awake?” an English-accented voice inquired.
“I really am,” he replied. “Good morning, Felicity.” Felicity Devonshire was an old friend and lover who, after a long career in British intelligence, had risen to be the head of MI-6, the foreign arm of their intel services, code name: architect.
“It appears that I will be attending the opening of your new hotel, The Arrington, in Bel-Air.”
“Then I’m looking forward to seeing you. Business or pleasure?”
“I’m anticipating a bit of both,” she said.
“I’ll do what I can to help out with the pleasure side.”