“Have you spoken to Ann yet?”
“Not yet. It’s still early there. I’ll try before dinner.”
“What’s going to happen with her if Kate is elected?” she asked.
“Everything,” Stone replied.
“That doesn’t sound good for the two of you.”
“It’s not. I’m going to have to get used to life without her, until she burns out on the job.”
“Poor Stone.”
“Don’t pity me. We had a good run, and we may have another opportunity later.”
The phone rang, and Stone picked it up. “Yes?”
“It’s Rick. How was your ride today?”
“Perfectly satisfactory, thank you.”
“Don’t go anywhere unless it’s in that van, you hear me?”
“I’m touched by your concern, Rick.”
“I have my pension to think of.”
“You’re a little young to be thinking of that, aren’t you?”
“Call it federal employee–itis.”
“Any repercussions from last night’s bonfire?”
“A small car bomb went off in a sheltered Paris street this morning. No one was harmed, but it made a lot of noise and smoke. I believe some windows were broken—the appropriate ones—and the facade of a particular building is going to need some work.”
“So the message was delivered, but do you think they’ll heed it?”
“I think they’ll think twice before pulling such a stunt again.”
“DuBois tells me he’s had an offer for his Arrington stock from some corporation he’s never heard of.”
“And how did he respond?”
“I suggested he send a brusque negative reply.”
“Good. I want them walled off.”
“So do I,” Stone said. “Rick, I didn’t bring any self-defense equipment with me. Do you think you can supply me with something concealable?”
“When are you going out again?”
“Around seven-thirty.”
“I’ll see that there’s a package for you in the van. Where are you going?”
“Out to dinner at a restaurant.”
“Where?”
“Brasserie Lipp, in Saint-Germain-des-Prés.”
“I’ll see that you’re seated away from the windows, and there’ll be someone there to keep an eye on you.”
“Let’s not overdo it.”
“When we don’t overdo it, things happen. Witness the events of last night.”
“All right, I won’t complain further, just make it as unobtrusive as possible.”
“Sure. See you later.”
Stone hoped not; he hung up and called Ann’s cell number. The call went straight to voice mail. “Hi,” he said into the void. “I’m in Paris and fairly recovered from the flight. Give me a call when you have a chance.”