“A good policy,” Vanessa replied.
They were greeted at the door by Marie, the cook/housekeeper, a pretty, well-padded woman of indeterminate age, who showed the guests to their rooms while Stone went into the study and stretched out in a comfortable chair.
A few minutes later, Vanessa came in. “That woman is a genius,” she said. “I found every single thing she unpacked for me, and each one was exactly where I would have put it myself. Is she for sale? May I buy her from you?”
“She is not, and you may not,” Stone said. “What would you like to do this afternoon?”
“Why, shop, of course. What did you think?”
“I’ll arrange a car and driver for you,” he said, picking up his phone. He chatted briefly with the car service, then hung up. “They’ll be here in half an hour.”
She came and made a nest in his lap. “You and everyone around you are so attuned to my needs,” she said.
“I’m glad you find us tolerable. By the way, your driver will be more than a driver, and he will be armed. Still, it’s up to you to be alert for anyone who pays too much attention to you, unless it is I.”
She unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt and bit him lightly on a nipple.
“That’s unfair when you’re leaving in only half an hour.”
“Oh, all right,” she said, rebuttoning. “You’ll have to wait for my return.”
“With bated breath,” Stone said, allowing her to dismount and return upstairs.
Dino came in, poured himself a scotch from the little bar, and sat down.
“I’m a little surprised,” he said.
“At what?”
“At the fact that we seem to have eluded Larkin, at least for the moment. I’d be willing to bet that he’s on the Chunnel train as we speak, headed for Paris.”
“Oh, God, I hope not,” Stone replied. “Did you notice how quickly and easily he disabled the airplane?”
“I did. I fully expected him to attack before we could get it fixed.”
“Tell Viv that Vanessa’s going shopping.”
“Vanessa brought her up to date. They’re both going.”
“A pity the French don’t follow cricket on TV. You’ll have to watch soccer.”
“World’s most boring game,” Dino said. “It would be a much better sport if the field were half as long and the goal twice as wide. How can anybody follow a sport where the final score is so often one-nil? You sit there for four hours, or whatever it is, and they score once?”
“I’ll bet the stadium sells a hell of a lot of beer,” Stone commented.
The women appeared long enough to say goodbye, then they were off on their spree.
“Quiet, isn’t it?” Dino said, after the car had left.
“How do you want to spend your afternoon?” Stone asked.
“I think I’ll just read something from your library and wait for something terrible to happen,” Dino said. He got up and looked through the shelves, then came back with one.
“What did you find?”
“The autobiography of Elia Kazan,” Dino said.
“You’ll love it,” Stone said.
“You’ve actually read it?”
“I read it, closed it, then opened it again and started over. That doesn’t happen very often.”
The doorbell rang.
“You expecting anybody?” Dino asked.
“No, and Maria has gone grocery shopping.”
“You first,” Dino said. “I’ll back you up.”
20
Stone walked quietly across the living room and into the entry hall, then peered through the glass top of the front door. A man stood with his back to the door, waiting, a tan leather document case tucked under his arm. Near him was a motorcycle with something in French painted on it, and he was husky in build.
Dino was right behind him. “What do you think?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Why don’t you let him in while I point a gun at him?” Dino suggested. “It might be a good opportunity to kill him.”
“Kill who? That’s the problem. Get back, he’s going to ring the bell again.”
They both jumped back into the living room, just as the bell rang.
“Let’s see what he does if nobody answers,” Dino said.
Stone’s iPhone buzzed in his pocket: Lance Cabot. They scrambled.
“Did you get the documents?” Lance asked.
“What documents?”
“I sent you some stuff by messenger.”
“Describe the messenger.”
“He’ll be on a motorcycle.”
“I’ll call you back.” Stone pushed Dino behind a curtain, then opened the front door just as the man swung a leg over the motorcycle. “Yes?”
“Delivery,” the man said.
“Cover me,” Stone said over his shoulder to Dino. He tucked his own weapon into the small of his back and walked outside, since the man was staying on his bike.
“Are you Barrington?”
“I am,” Stone replied.
“You got picture ID?”
Stone produced his New York driver’s license from his wallet.
“Close enough,” the man said, looking at the photo. He opened the document case and put his hand inside. Stone half expected it to come out with a gun in it, but instead, he was handed a clipboard bearing a single sheet of paper. “Sign, please.” He handed Stone a pen.
Stone signed. “There you are.”
“There I am,” the man said, taking a manila envelope from his case and handing it to Stone. Before Stone could open it and see what was inside, the man had started his motorcycle and turned it back toward the Boulevard Saint-Germaine. He stopped; the big oaken doors were closed.
“How did you get in?” Stone asked.
“A car was coming, and I followed him.”
Stone reached inside the front door and pressed a button. The big doors swung open, and the man drove into the street and turned right. Stone closed the doors, then stepped back inside.
Dino was holstering his gun. “Whatcha got?”
“Let’s go inside and see,” Stone said, leading the way. He went into the study and flopped into his chair, while Dino took the other.
Stone read each sheet and then passed it to Dino. “Looks like there’s a file on Larkin in both London and Paris, complete with bad photographs.”
“You know,” Dino said, perusing the paperwork, “I’ve seen this guy twice so far, and he could still walk up to me on the street and shoot me, and I wouldn’t see him coming.”
“It’s disconcerting,” Stone said.
“That’s the word I was looking for.”
“So what do these files tell us?”
“That he’s accustomed to breaking the law, since he left the FBI, and at least two police forces know it. “Three, if you count mine.”
“He seems to like bar fights, Dino, and he’s proved it in three cities.”
“I’ll tell you what else is disconcerting,” Stone said. “He’s a lot richer than we thought. My thinking was that by the time he’d paid his debts, and spread some of the rest around, he’d have pissed away just about all of it.”
“But not if he won ten million, instead of two,” Dino said.
“I mean, he could be staying at the Ritz.”
“He would stand out at the Ritz as not being the type to stay at the Ritz,” Dino said. “I doubt they’d rent him a room. I wouldn’t.”
“He needs a better tailor,” Stone said, looking at the photographs again.
“Oh, shit,” Dino said.
“What?”
“I forgot. The last time we were here I ordered some suits from Charvet. Time for a fitting.”
“I’ll go with you,” Stone said.
Marie returned from her shopping, so they didn’t have to lock up. They walked up to the boulevard and hailed a cab.