“And he hasn’t been caught at it?”
“Stan’s too smart to get caught in the usual ways. Somebody would have to turn on him, and that’s why he worries about me. Sometimes I think that if I could sit down at dinner with him, I could put his mind at rest, but he regards me as as much of a business competitor now as a threat to his personal security.”
“I can see that it’s a difficult situation,” Stone said.
Lance looked sad. “One of us is not going to survive this situation,” he said. Then he looked grim. “And it isn’t going to be me.”
Then the ladies came looking for them.
“I think you’re going queer for Lance,” Sarah said. She was lying on top of Stone, having just drained him of most of his precious bodily fluids.
“What?” Stone managed to say, still panting.
“The two of you went into this huddle after dinner, and I think you’d still be there, if I hadn’t come in and dragged you away.” She began toying with his penis.
“You’re not going to find any joy there,” Stone said. “Not after what you’ve just put me through. I may take weeks to recover.”
“Nonsense,” she said, squeezing. “You’re recovering already.”
Stone groaned.
“I’m going to make you forget about Lance,” she said, traveling down his torso with her tongue, until she had him in her mouth.
She was absolutely right, Stone thought. Lance was right out of his mind.
Chapter 27
STONE HAD FINISHED BREAKFAST AND was reading the London papers in the morning room when Sarah came in.
“And how are we this morning?” she asked, in the manner of a visiting nurse. She pecked him on the forehead.
“I don’t know about you,” he said in a low voice, “but I can hardly walk.”
“You’re out of shape,” she laughed. “We’ll have to get you fit again. Come on, we’re going to the market.” She tugged him out of the chair, grabbed a basket by the front door, and led him outside, where an ancient Morris Minor estate car, nicely kept, awaited them.
“Where’s everybody else?” Stone asked, as Sarah started the car.
“Erica’s sleeping in; Lance wanted a drive, so I loaned him the Mini Cooper.”
“Where’d Lance go?”
“I dunno; just for a drive.” They passed through the gates of the estate, and Sarah turned toward the village. Shortly, they had stopped in front of a small grocery.
Down the block, Stone spotted the bright orange Mini Cooper. “You go ahead and shop,” he said to Sarah; “I want to have a look at the village.”
“All right; meet me at the car in half an hour; I’ll be done by then.” She went into the grocery.
Stone started down the street toward the Mini Cooper. It was empty, and he looked around, wondering where Lance might have gone. Then he saw him enter a pub across the street. Stone glanced at his watch; it was just opening time. He dawdled down the street, wondering why Lance would be in a pub before lunch. Wasn’t there enough booze back at the house? He considered going inside himself, but Lance’s behavior was unusual enough that he preferred not to be seen following him. He ducked into a news agent’s across from the pub, bought a Herald Tribune, and pretended to read it. No more than a minute had passed when he saw two people get out of a parked saloon car and head for the pub.
Stone had never seen them before, but their appearance struck a chord. They were Mediterranean in appearance, and the woman was quite beautiful. That matched the description of the people Sarah had seen with Lance in a restaurant, and he remembered Hedger’s saying that two of Lance’s contacts in Cairo had been a young couple. Stone tucked the newspaper under his arm and crossed the street.
The pub had stained-glass windows, and Stone peered through one. He saw the three of them seated at a corner table, and he moved around to the side of the building for a better view. He found another window, one with clear glass, partly protected by curtains. He could stand and look inside through a small opening in the drapes without being seen by Lance and his friends.
There was a very earnest conversation going on, which stopped abruptly when a barmaid brought drinks to the table, then resumed as soon as she had gone. Lance was making a point, tapping a forefinger hard on the table, leaning forward for emphasis. The couple seemed uncomfortable, and the woman placed her hand on Lance’s arm, in a calming motion. He jerked away from her and brought his palm down hard on the table, apparently very close to losing his temper. The couple sat back and listened, not arguing. Then Lance threw some money on the table, got up, and walked out.
Stone flattened himself against the wall until he was sure Lance had left the pub, then started toward the front of the building. From around the corner, he heard the distinctive sound of the Mini Cooper revving, then driving away in a hurry. Stone went into the pub.
The couple were still there, ignoring their drinks, looking worried, talking animatedly. Stone stood at the end of the bar nearest them and ordered a lemonade.
“I don’t care,” the man was saying. “This is getting dangerous.”
“We have to do this,” she said. “What choice do we have? How else are we going to make this kind of money?”
“Why do we have to take all the risks?” he asked.
“We’re not taking all the risks; Lance is doing his part.”
“Let’s get back to London,” the man said, standing up.
Stone turned his back to them, pretending to examine a photograph of the pub on the wall next to him. He didn’t want them to register his face; he might run into them again.
When they had been gone long enough to get to their car and drive away, Stone left the pub and walked back to the Morris Minor. Sarah was just coming out of the grocery with a cart filled with bags, and he helped her stow them in the rear of the estate car.
They were back in plenty of time for lunch, and found Erica had joined the living. After they had eaten, Lance took Stone into the morning room and sat him down.
“I’ve done some looking into your background,” he said, “and I like what I’ve learned.”