“Every bill? Every policy? No matter what?”
“Every single one. They said they would find ways to peck to death any bill or policy. The rationale for each set of talking points will be created and laid out in the circulated memo.”
“Well, that shocks me, too,” Stone said. “They don’t even know what policy initiatives she’s going to issue.”
“They can guess from Mrs. Lee’s campaign speeches.”
“What do you want me to do with this information?” Stone asked.
“I want you to get it into the press and media. I want to create a big to-do about this, and I want to blunt their tactics.”
“Those are noble aims,” Stone said, “but you’re going about this in the wrong way.”
“Then how should I go about it?”
“Do you have a pencil?” Stone rummaged in a desk drawer for a business card.
“Yes.”
“Write down this name and number: Carla Fontana. She’s the Washington bureau chief for the New York Times.” He gave the man a number. “That is her private cell number. She’s in a position to do what you’re suggesting, but you have to understand, she’s going to have to know who she’s dealing with.”
“I’m afraid of talking to someone like that on the phone,” the man said.
“Then do this: go to an electronics store and buy two pre-paid cell phones. Mail her one with a note saying you will call her at a specified hour, and that if she takes your call, you’ll have a major story for her. The phones will be untraceable, and if you’re worried about taps, you can always throw them away and buy new ones.”
“That sounds good.”
“But she’s going to need to know your identity. Will she recognize your name?”
“Probably.”
“My advice is to be straight with her — don’t lie to her and don’t conceal your identity from her. She has to trust you if this is going to work.”
“May I tell her you referred me to her?”
Stone thought about that. “Yes, but tell her I don’t know who you are.”
“All right.”
“One more thing,” Stone said. “I’m glad you’re being careful, but are you doing that because you fear some retribution? If they find out, will they destroy your career?”
“If they find out, they may destroy more than that.”
“What does that mean?”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Barrington.” The man hung up.
Stone was left staring at his phone.
16
Stone was picked up at home by Dino, and his driver took them to a side entrance of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, where the block had been closed to provide parking for the many limousines of the attendees to the high mass for Eduardo Bianchi.
Inside, a boys’ choir was singing something from Beethoven, and there was the quiet hum of influential people greeting one another.
“I’m not sitting with the family,” Dino said.
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t invited, and if I had been I wouldn’t have accepted. It would have caused too much talk.”
“See you afterward, then. Are you going to the house?”
“That, I’m doing.”
“I’ll ride with you, then back with the kids.”
Stone walked to where the two front pews had been set aside for the family and their friends. Stone walked to where Mary Ann sat next to her son, Ben, on the aisle, in the front pew, greeted her quietly, and murmured some words of condolence. Stone took a seat in the front pew, next to his son, Peter, and his girlfriend, Hattie Patrick.
A moment later, the president-elect entered from the Fiftieth Street side of the cathedral, and Stone rose to greet her. She spoke briefly to Mary Ann, then came and sat by Stone. She squeezed his arm, then sat with her hands in her lap, her head bowed.
The cardinal had just finished his prayer when there was a small stir behind where Stone sat, and he was aware of someone taking a seat in the pew directly behind him, but he did not turn to look.
A procession of the city’s prominent persons — the mayor, the chairmen of the boards of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and two other important museums, and Tom Donnelly, Dino’s predecessor as police commissioner, now a candidate for mayor, all spoke of what Eduardo had meant to their work and to the city. There followed another performance by the choir, then the cardinal gave his benediction and the service ended.
Stone stood and chatted with Kate for a moment.
“Can you and your kids come to the Carlyle for dinner tonight at seven?” she asked.
“We’d love to,” Stone said, then the Secret Service escorted her to where the cardinal waited to say goodbye, then led her out the way she had come — a slow process, since everyone wanted to shake her hand.
Stone turned to look at the people behind him, then froze.
Dolce was sitting quietly in the pew directly behind him. She rose and held out her hand.
“Hello, Stone,” she said softly, holding out her gloved hand.
Stone took her hand. “Hello, Dolce,” he said. “How are you?”
“Much better than the last time we met,” she said.
Stone recalled that, on that occasion, she had been carrying a butcher knife. “I’m so glad,” he said.
“Will you be coming back to the house?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Perhaps we might talk for a moment there.”
“Of course.” She was the last person on earth he wished to speak to.
She left the pew and spoke to a few attendees. Then Mary Ann approached her, they air-kissed and spoke for only a moment.
People lingered to schmooze in the pews and aisles, but gradually the crowd dissipated, and Stone made his way back to Dino’s car. Peter and Hattie got into the Bentley, with Fred at the wheel. Mary Ann and Ben were driven in a black Mercedes.
“A nice send-off, huh?” Dino said.
“Very nice. Did you see Dolce?”
“She was there?” Dino asked, alarmed.
“Sitting directly behind me.”
“Jesus, if I’d known I’d have had some men there.”
“She seemed... normal, whatever that is for Dolce. You’ll see her at the house.”
“Oh yeah,” Dino said, “I’m really looking forward to that.”
Eduardo Bianchi was interred in a mausoleum in a grove of trees behind the mansion. The cardinal prayed, and the casket was moved into the little building, then it was locked and the key given to Mary Ann.
The group of about a hundred people wandered back to the house, where a buffet had been laid out in the dining room. Stone had seen that the forgeries of Eduardo’s paintings had been rehung in their original places.
“They look real to me,” Dino said.
“They looked real to everybody,” Stone said, “until somebody noticed that check mark on a painting’s frame.”
Stone had something to eat and moved around the room, speaking to those he knew. Then he looked up and saw Dolce standing in a side doorway. She crooked a finger at him and beckoned.
Stone gulped.
17
Stone left through the side door and stepped into the hallway. Dolce was just disappearing into Eduardo’s study at the end of the hall. He walked slowly toward the study and hesitated at the doors. Finally, he figured he had to do this sometime, and it might as well be now.
He opened the door and peeked through. Dolce was sitting at her father’s desk across the room. He walked into the room, leaving the door open behind him.
Dolce rose, walked around the desk and toward him. She was wearing a tight black silk dress and had removed her hat and veil. She held out both her hands for Stone to take.