“I told you, I’ve always played,” he said, “just not for a long time. I got out of the habit.”
“Well, it’s a very nice habit.”
“It’s your fault that I bought the piano. You said I should play to keep my fingers in shape for other work.”
She laughed. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
Stone flexed his fingers. “Ready for duty.”
“I want a drink first,” she said. “I’ll fix one for you, too.”
She went to the wet bar, made a martini, and brought it back with a bourbon for Stone. “Play,” she said.
Stone played “The Way You Look Tonight.”
“That’s my favorite song,” she said. “How’d you know?”
“I just knew.”
They sipped their drinks and Stone played some more. The tunes kept flooding back.
“That was lovely,” she said, when he paused. “But stop for a minute while I ruin the mood.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Rick has had word that Majorov’s people think you may still be alive and are scouring the city for you. He wants me to move you to the country right now. I have a car waiting.”
“Just a minute,” Stone said. He produced his new iPhone and looked for Lance Cabot’s number, then dialed it.”
“What strange person is calling on one of my phones?” Lance asked.
“It’s Stone. My old phone died.”
“It must have drowned, from what I hear.”
“Your information is good.”
“Why have you honored me with this call, Stone? I have people in my office.”
“I’ll be brief: You know the little mews house I’m sequestered in?”
“I do, and it’s not so little.”
“I want to buy it from you.”
“What?”
“Come on, Lance, how much do you want for it?”
“It’s owned by the same Agency foundation that sold you your cousin Dick Stone’s house.”
“And you are the chairman of its board, authorized to act for it, as I recall. You did that when I bought the Maine house.”
“That’s true, I suppose.”
“Come on, Lance, I’ll let you make a small profit on the place, so you’ll look good for the board. How much did you pay?”
“It was some time ago: a million four, I think. Euros.”
“I’ll give you a million five, and I’ll bet it was dollars.”
“No, it was euros, I’m sure. A million six, and it’s yours. Euros.”
“Oh, all right, done, but fully furnished.”
“Anything that’s there. There’s a car, too, in the garage.”
“So that’s what’s under the sheet.”
“It’s an old Mercedes, I believe. The Paris station keeps it running.”