The Short Forever(33)
Stone encountered Bobby at the front door, and they went in together and sat down in the lounge. Bobby reached into his raincoat pocket and presented Stone with a large wallet.
Stone received it in a handkerchief and lightly turned it over. It was of alligator, and it must have cost a bundle, Stone thought. He looked inside and found more than five hundred pounds, mostly in fifty-pound notes. One side of the wallet held three credit cards, an ATM card from Barclays bank, an international health insurance card, and half a dozen calling cards, all in the name of Stanford Hedger, Mayfair House, Green Street. The credit cards were in the same name. “Well,” he said, “at least we have his name, now.”
“The lady pickpocket said he introduced himself as Bill, so Hedger could be a false name, too.”
“If it is, he’s gone to a great deal of trouble to establish that identity. Since we know he lives at the Green Street address, I’m inclined to think that Hedger is his real name.”
“Maybe so, but these buggers have a thousand names, if they want them.”
“Bobby, can you dust this for fingerprints and have them checked with the international database?”
“I have a friend who can,” Bobby replied. “Of course, my prints are on it, as are the pickpocket’s.”
“How long will it take?”
“A day or two, depending on how busy my friend is.”
“All right.”
“What do you want me to do with the wallet after that?”
“Wipe all the prints off it and stick it through the mail slot of Hedger’s building. Maybe he’ll think someone found and returned it.”
“All right, sir; I’ll be on my way then.” Bobby took the wallet back in a handkerchief of his own, tucked it into a raincoat pocket, and left.
Stone went upstairs. It was just coming onto nine o’clock, New York time, and he called Bill Eggers, who he knew came in early.
“Eggers.”
“Hi, it’s Stone.”
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Does the name Stanford Hedger mean anything to you?”
“Sounds familiar,” Eggers said, “but I can’t place it. Who is he?”
“That’s what I want to know. I think it may be Bartholomew’s real name. By the way, he works for the government, probably in intelligence.”
“That doesn’t surprise me, based on who sent him to me, but I can’t elaborate on that.”
“I see.”
“I hope you do.”
“Of course I do, Bill, but should you get some information that doesn’t compromise your relationship with a client, will you pass it on to me?”
“Okay, I can do that.”
“Talk to you later.”
Stone thought it might not be too early to call his old professor, Samuel Bernard.
“Yes?” The voice was surprisingly weak.
“It’s Stone Barrington, sir; how are you?”
“Oh, I’ve had a bad couple of days, but I’m better now.”
“Is this not a good time to talk?”
“No, no, go right ahead. What can I do for you?”
“Does the name Stanford Hedger mean anything to you?”
“Indeed it does,” Bernard replied without hesitation.
“Who is he?”
“When I knew him, and later, when I only knew of him, he was considered one of the agency’s brightest young men.”
“Tell me about him.”
“He was a bit impulsive, perhaps even wild, but that doesn’t hurt one’s reputation in the Company, if the results are good. Of course, if one makes a mistake . . .”
“Did Hedger make a mistake?”
“He did, and I can’t tell you about it, except to say that it cost the lives of half a dozen operatives in a Middle Eastern country. Fortunately for Hedger, none of them was American, or he would have been in real trouble.”
Stone wasn’t sure what else to ask. “Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”
“There was a wife, in his youth, but she died in an automobile accident. Hedger was driving, and he was said to have been broken up by the event, though I never knew him to be broken up by anything. He had a level of self-confidence that is usually only found in maniacs, and that seemed to make him impervious to most disastrous events, like his Middle Eastern debacle. I shouldn’t think it took him long to get over his wife’s death.”
“Anything else?”
“He was extraordinarily brave, in the physical sense, which, I suppose, comes with his level of self-confidence. I doubt if he believed that anyone could ever do him harm. He garnered a couple of medals for valor, and that stood him in good stead in the agency. Still, careful people never trusted him, and there are always a lot of careful people in the Company.”