Stone produced the check from an inside pocket and handed it to Lance, who deposited it in his own inside pocket. “There,” Lance said, making a dusting motion with his hands, “all done.” He smiled a little smile. “And we won’t be discussing these events again. With anyone, not even each other. A matter of national security, don’t you see?” Then he closed his eyes, sat back in his comfortable seat, and took another of his little naps.
—
STONE AND HOLLY were deposited back in the mews as the sun began to rise. There were no guards present at the gates or on the roof.
They went upstairs, undressed, and climbed back into bed.
“Can you tell me what happened out at Le Bourget?” Stone asked her.
“I should think it’s obvious,” Holly said. “Apparently, an accommodation was reached with Comrade Majorov.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would Lance want an accommodation with Majorov?”
“Apparently, because it’s in Lance’s interest to do so. Apparently, it’s in your interest, too, since Majorov, apparently, won’t try to kill you anymore.”
“And no gendarmes showed up, so that wasn’t a real call that Lance made to Michel Chance?”
“Apparently not,” she replied.
“Why do you keep saying ‘apparently’?”
“Because all this is only speculation on my part,” Holly said. “But it makes sense, if Majorov is an asset of Lance’s—part-time, of course. Yevgeny does have a business to run. The good news is, he appears to be out of the hotel business.”
“If all Lance had to do to fix this was to call Majorov, why didn’t he call him a long time ago, instead of waiting until Majorov was trying to leave the country?”
“Apparently, because tonight he had leverage he didn’t have before. Majorov was desperate to leave the country, Lance had prevented that and he thought the gendarmes were on the way.”
“This is all too complicated for me.”
“That’s because your mind is not devious enough for intelligence work.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, sweetheart.” She leaned over and gently bit a nipple, and Stone’s thoughts of Majorov were replaced by other thoughts.
57
Stone was having a sandwich in the mews house the next day, while Holly attended yet another meeting at the CIA station, when his phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Ann.”
“I thought you were submerged in work, never to surface again.”
“Actually, that’s a pretty good description of what has happened to me over the past couple of weeks. When are you coming home?”
“Tomorrow night is the grand opening of l’Arrington, and we’re going from that directly to the airport, so I’ll be home early the following morning. I’ll take a day to rest, then, on Election Day I’ll borrow a Mustang from Strategic Services and fly down to Washington. Can I give you a lift?”
“What time of day?”
“What time of day would you prefer?”
“Five-ish?”
“As long as the ‘ish’ doesn’t run too late. I believe we’re both expected for dinner at the White House family quarters—that, and a lot of TV, until we know the result.”