Paris Match(106)
“But you are a consultant to them, aren’t you?”
“I had a cousin, now deceased, who was a rival of Lance’s at the Agency, so I’ve had dealings there at widely separated intervals.”
“Nothing you can talk about, I suppose.”
“I wouldn’t talk about it, even if I could. The inconsequential nature of the me/Agency relationship would be an embarrassment. I’d rather people thought it was more important.”
“So I don’t have to worry about anything coming out of Honk’s campaign about you and Lance Cabot?”
“They can always make up something, I guess. I can’t stop them.”
“I pointed out to the reporter who was just in here that sullying your name backfired on them last time—resulting in the resignation of a high campaign official. I think he’ll print that.”
“Okay by me.”
“I gotta run. Call me when you’re back in New York and over your Gulfstream lag.”
“Will do.” They both hung up. Stone had been feeling relaxed, but now he was nervous again.
58
Stone called Lance and got a voice mail beep. “Trouble at home,” Stone said. “Call me soonest.” He hung up and finished his sandwich, then the phone rang.
“Lance?”
“Dino.”
“Sorry about that, pal. I had a call in to him.”
“Where the hell have you been? You’ve checked out of the suite, and your cell phone hasn’t been working.”
“I’m sorry about that—it got wet, and I had to get it replaced.”
“Are you okay? The Russians haven’t kidnapped you?”
“I’m reliably informed that the Russians are no longer a threat.”
“Oh? Are they all dead?”
“I’ll tell you more when I see you. Are you done with your conference?”
“A couple of days ago. We stayed over to see some sights and get the free ride home after the big do.”
“Why don’t the two of you come to dinner tonight?”
“Come to dinner where?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you—I bought a house.”
“You’re insane.”
“You won’t think so when you see it.” Stone gave him the address. “Seven-thirty?”
“Okay. Then I want to be brought up to date.”
“I’ll tell you everything.” They hung up, and Stone called Holly, got the beep. “I’ve invited Dino and Viv to dinner tonight at seven-thirty. Stop by Fauchon again and pick up something delicious for four, okay? If you can’t do it, let me know and I’ll pick it up.” He hung up.
—
TWO HOURS passed before Lance returned his call. “All right, Stone, who’s after you now?”
“Not I—Kate. Someone in your bailiwick has leaked to a reporter that you’re spending outrageous money on protecting my ass.”
A brief silence. “Any idea who?”