“We need your knowledge of the area. Is there anyone you can trust in your organization?”
“Of course, but it would take time to tell them.” Lange said as if making a formal declaration, “I’ll come with you.”
“We leave tomorrow.”
“I suggest we travel there as if we were on safari,” he said. “Ever been on safari?”
“No, but my people will be able to round up the necessary guns and gear.” She rose. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll be in touch.”
She hesitated and remained seated on the edge of the chair. “By the way. What was that big surprise for Hayden?”
“Some baroness is in town to see him.”
“Do you mean a contessa?”
“Pardon. That’s it, a contessa. I’m told she has a thing for him.”
“I believe you’re right.” Sandra strode out of the bar. Last thing she wanted at this time was for Hayden Stone to have distractions.
The fire in the bedroom’s brick hearth eased to crumbling red embers. Ambassador Marshall Bunting relaxed on the bed, his head propped on the pillow, wondering if he should or should not get up and add a log or two. Patience solved the quandary.
Lying close to him, she stretched, moved her face toward his, and asked, “Shall I add a log?” Without waiting for an answer, she slipped out of bed and went over to the fire. She bent over and took two small logs from the bin and carefully placed them on top of the embers. Within seconds, both logs were blazing. She remained crouched by the fireplace, looking into the flames.
Bunting admired her, wearing his white dress shirt, which didn’t quite cover her firm, delicious ass. She pulled her hair back with both hands; the motion opened the front of the unbuttoned shirt, and when she turned sideways, allowed him to see her breasts glowing in the gold light of the fire.
She rose quickly, took three quick steps toward the bed, jumped in, and made one more leap, landing on top of him. “That’ll keep us warm for a while,” she said, giving him a wet kiss.
The last hour had been all lovemaking, and Bunting was exhausted. The last stragglers hadn’t left the braai until after midnight. They were businessmen and their wives from Austin, Texas, who obviously didn’t know diplomatic functions ended before eleven. That is, Bunting’s functions did.
“What shall we talk about?” she asked, running her hand down along his side, then stroking the inside of his thigh.
“Interesting group of people tonight, wouldn’t you say?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. Quite fun.” Her eyes glistened in the firelight. “What did you think of the contessa?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “I think she’s just great.”
She hugged him, and after a second, gave an exaggerated sigh. “You didn’t like Hayden Stone?”
“How well do you know him?”
Ignoring the question, she continued. “My plan to reunite Lucinda and Hayden worked. Don’t you think? I’m like cupid shooting an arrow. Hmm. I’m a bit hazy on my mythology. Was cupid male?”
“In some pictures, Cupid looks somewhat androgynous,” Bunting said. “Where do you know Hayden Stone from?”
“We knew each other in New York City. Years ago.”
Bunting ran his fingers through her hair, looking directly into her wary eyes. The sleeve of his shirt she was wearing had lipstick on it. Why did women do that? Marking their territory? He let her answer hang before he continued, “You know he’s heading to Namibia on a trip. That region has very interesting birds.” He stopped stroking her hair. “I’m thinking of going up to Botswana next month to do some bird-watching. You might find it interesting. Want to join me?” He waited for a response.
“Sounds like fun. Let me know the dates.”
“Someone told me that you and Hayden Stone met the other day.”
She stiffened. “As I said, we’re old friends. We met … For one thing, I was seeing if he was ready to meet the contessa again.” She moved away from him and placed two pillows behind her head. “Please don’t tell me your people are watching me?”
“Are you aware of his line of work?”
“Yes. He’s a spy.”
Bunting was taken back by her candor. “To be more precise, he’s a counterspy. A similar but quite separate vocation.”
“How interesting.”
“And you, dear.” He touched her shoulder, and she withdrew. “Are you also in the trade?”
She rolled out of bed and stood in front of the fireplace. “You know I am. If you didn’t, I’d bloody well say that you are incompetent. Or your people are.” His white shirt came off and she rolled it into a ball. She threw the shirt in his direction. “Time for me to depart.”
Bunting sat up. “I’m curious. Who do you work for?”
She straightened her back and stood naked, in silhouette by the bright firelight. “Who do you think?”
“The Brits. MI6.”
“That’s what your people told you?”
Bunting nodded. “We’re on the same side, you know. Colleagues. The Five Eyes program and all that. Now come back to bed.”
“I’m off.” Patience picked up her clothes and headed for the bathroom, but stopped and walked back. “I’m glad I drove myself here tonight.” She carefully laid her clothes on the foot of the bed and slowly dressed in front of him.
“Sweetheart. It’s late. You shouldn’t be driving on the roads at night. What with the crime.”
“Bugger off.” Taking her time, she put on her lace pants, started with her brassiere, then threw it down, and put on her blouse, leaving the top three buttons open.
“Please, dear, reconsider.” How dramatic. How bitchy. God, she is wonderful.
“You had me followed. You didn’t think enough of me to ask me directly if I worked for MI6, or if I was meeting Hayden. No trust on your part!”
“I am, or was, a bit jealous.” He patted the bed with his hand to return.
“For your information, Hayden and I were never lovers. We were just in love.”
“See. That answers everything.” Bunting clapped once. “We can get back to normal.”
She headed for the door. “When I report this episode to my people, I don’t think they’ll like it one bit.”
“For God’s sake. You’re not going to tell your people at MI6 everything we’ve done?” He waved his hand around. “Are you?”
Patience came back to the end of the bed. “No. I’m not telling MI6. They are the people that I’ve been loaned to.” She smiled. “You didn’t know?” She waited for a response but he didn’t give one. “I’m telling my organization, the CSIC. The Canadian Security Intelligence Service.”
For a moment, Bunting said nothing, then muttered, “I didn’t know Canada had spies.”
“Few people do. Precisely the reason we’re so good.” She walked to the door. “Cheers, Mr. Ambassador.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hayden Stone watched the pilot and copilot of the twin-engine Otter search for a clear landing space in the semi-arid savanna one hundred feet below. The sun had yet to rise, but first light revealed rolling hills and arroyos. Dirk Lange leaned over and told him they were called dongas in Zulu. Through the square window, Stone saw a dirt road undulating through tall brown grass and thorn bushes. Finally, the pilot used the road as a landing strip.
When the plane hit the ground, it bounced once and then pitched forward to a stop. Outside the plane dust swirled from the rotating propellers. Across the aisle Colonel Frederick gave orders to the two CIA logistics officers sitting next to him. Stone signaled thumbs up to Sandra Harrington and Dirk Lange, who in turn released their seat harnesses. The tail door of the plane lowered and the two CIA officers, a man and a woman, jumped up, unstrapped the three miniature motorcycles, and wheeled them down the ramp.