With Jacques disarmed and momentarily off balance, Stone took a wide swing with the cane and connected with the side of Jacques’s head, creating a resounding whack in the silent room. Jacques shook off the blow; he let go of Mirabelle and began making his way across the floor toward the knife, finally reaching out for it. His father walked up to him and stamped heavily on his son’s wrist, breaking it with a loud snap. The elder Chance turned toward Stone and said, “Merci, M’sieur,” then the area before the grandstand was swamped by gendarmes and Jacques disappeared in their midst.
Stone was roughly pushed back by a policeman, and he took the opportunity to make his way back to the table, rehanging the cane on the back of its owner’s chair along the way. He sat down next to Holly and mopped his face with his napkin. Pandemonium reigned at the bandstand. Peter Duchin got up from the piano, shouted something to the orchestra, and gave them a downbeat. “La Marseillaise” filled the ballroom, and even the policemen stood at attention.
“Good work,” Holly said.
Dino spoke up. “The cane was a nice idea.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Stone said. He took Holly’s hand and led the others toward a side door. By the time the anthem had ended, they had escaped to the elevator.
—
THEY LANDED at dawn, just after Teterboro opened for business. The sleepy passengers disembarked, said their goodbyes, and their luggage was transported to the front of the terminal, where their drivers took their luggage and Stone’s man, Fred Flicker, awaited with the Bentley. He and Holly piled in.
“Home,” Stone said wearily.
“My home first,” Holly said, “to leave my bags with the doorman. I’m back in the real world now, and I have to go to work.”
“So be it,” Stone said.
—
STONE LEFT his luggage to Fred and let himself into his house. His secretary, Joan, who lived in the house next door, was up early to greet him.
“Welcome home,” she said. “Do you want to see the mail and messages?”
“I want my bed,” Stone said, kissing her on the forehead, and, getting into the elevator, “I’m going to sleep all day, if I can. Hold off the world.”
He fell into bed naked, alone, and exhausted.
—
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Tuesday, Election Day, Stone voted at his neighborhood polling station, which, he noted, was packed, then collected Ann at her apartment building. Fred drove them to Teterboro, where the borrowed Strategic Services Citation Mustang awaited them on the ramp.
“I’ve never flown into Washington in a private jet,” Ann said, settling into the cockpit right seat.
“It’s more fun than the airlines,” Stone said, starting an engine.
They landed at Manassas, Virginia, and a waiting car drove them to the White House. A butler and a Secret Service agent rode with them in the elevator up to the family quarters, and their luggage was made to disappear.
Kate Lee left a group by the fireplace and came to meet them. Hugs and kisses were exchanged, and drinks appeared. Stone knew, perhaps, half of the two dozen people in the room. Two large flat-screen television sets had been set up, and there was a buffet table.
“I’m so happy you could join us,” President Will Lee said, shaking Stone’s hand and kissing Ann. “It’s going to be an exciting evening. I guess we’re going to find out if we have to move out of here.”
“Either way, you’ve both had a great run,” Stone said. “I hope to see it extended.”