“Morgan won’t run,” Plumber said. “He has no idea we’re onto him. He plans to take his retirement on schedule, then retire somewhere with his new money, probably Spain, where we can’t get at him. I’ll bet he’s home watching telly right now.”
Dino came out of the bedroom. “What’s happening?”
“Lots,” Stone replied. “Who won the cricket match?”
“I have no idea,” Dino said. “Bring me up to date.”
Stone gave him a sixty-second recap.
“Mason’s at the house,” Carpenter said. “Get it onscreen,” she said to the tech.
The tech had it up in seconds; two cars pulled into Morgan’s driveway, and men spilled out of them. One opened the garage door; the others ringed the house, while someone at the front kicked in the door.
“Mason, report,” Carpenter said into the cellphone. “Mason? Where are you?”
Stone stared at the screen. He didn’t like this at all.
“Mason!” Carpenter shouted. “What? What’s happening?” She listened. “It’s still there?”
“The car,” Dino said. “I’ll bet it’s in the garage.”
Stone held up a hand for silence; he was listening to Carpenter.
She closed the phone. “Morgan’s gone,” she said. “His luggage is gone, and most of his clothes. The Morris Minor is in the garage, empty.”
“Is it a two-car garage?” Stone asked.
“Yes.”
“Then he had another car. The device was in the back of the Morris Minor; while Morgan painted, Lance took it and left the money in the car. Morgan drove home, garaged his car, then got into the other car, which was packed and ready to go, and just drove away.”
Carpenter turned to Plumber. “Full-scale alert—every airport, every seaport, every police patrol car. Photographs of Cabot and Morgan faxed everywhere, the continent, too. Call Interpol and explain the situation. I want them both back, and the device, too. Especially the device. What’s the longest Cabot and Morgan could have been gone?”
Plumber looked at his watch. “Forty minutes for Cabot; Morgan would have needed another, say, fifteen minutes to return to the house and leave again.”
“Establish a perimeter at eighty miles,” Carpenter said. “Right now, Cabot could be, say, forty miles away, driving fast, and Morgan less. Every road blocked; turn out the local police, but don’t tell them why we want these two.”
Stone picked up a photograph. “Is this Morgan?”
“Yes,” Plumber replied.
“I want to see his house.”
“Me, too,” Dino said.
Carpenter handed Stone the keys to the Jaguar. “Give them a map,” she said. “I can’t spare anybody to go with you, Stone.”
Stone took the keys and ran for the car.
“I want to drive,” Dino said.
Chapter 55
DINO GOT THE CAR STARTED AS STONE got in. “Don’t waste any time,” Stone said.
Dino hung a right out of the carpark and found himself staring at a moving van coming straight at him in his lane. “Shit!” he yelled, whipping to the other side of the road and nearly running into the ditch.
“Sorry, I forgot to warn you about that first right turn.”
“Maybe I don’t want to do this after all,” Dino said.
“Shut up and drive,” Stone said. “Just remember which side of the road you’re supposed to be on.”
“Very weird, driving on the left,” Dino said. “But I’ll get the hang of it.”
“Soon, please.”
They followed the map into the small village and to Morgan’s street. All the houses seemed identical.
“It’s gotta be the one with no front door,” Dino said, whipping into the driveway.
They walked into the house to find Mason and his people pulling the place apart. A man appeared from the kitchen. “I found a safe in the garage,” he said.
Everybody trooped through the kitchen to the garage. There was, indeed, a safe, the door open, empty.
“He put that in for the device,” Mason said. The group started to pull the garage apart.
Stone motioned Dino back into the house.
“What are we looking for?” Dino asked.
“Anything that might give us a hint where Morgan has gone—travel brochures, reservation forms, anything. You take the desk.”
Dino began going through the desk drawers, while Stone walked around the living room slowly, looking at everything. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he would know it when he saw it. There was a large television set, and an easy chair and ottoman parked in front of it. On the ottoman was a stack of magazines; Stone began to go through them.
A television guide, a well-marked racing form, a couple of girlie magazines, and a travel magazine. Stone flipped through the travel magazine twice before he found something. A corner of one page had been dog-eared, then flattened again. The page was a continuation of an article on country inns that began earlier in the magazine; there was only one ad. “Take a look at this,” he said to Dino.
“Nothing in the desk,” Dino said. “No secret compartments, no travel receipts, nothing.”
Stone held out the magazine. “This page has been marked,” he said.
Dino looked at the ad in the lower right-hand corner. A photograph of a large country house dominated it. “What’s Cliveden?” he asked, pronouncing it with a long i.
“Cliveden, with a short i, was the country house of Lord Astor, before the war. His wife, an American woman named Nancy, who was a member of parliament, ran a very big salon there. Everybody who was anybody showed up at one time or another—George Bernard Shaw, Charlie Chaplin—and every literary or political figure of the time.”