The Short Forever(4)
“I understand perfectly, Mr. Barrington. I’m well aware that you are a respectable attorney and not a thug for hire. I’m also informed, by a number of people, Samuel Bernard among them, that you are a resourceful man and that your background as a police detective gives you entrée to certain places.”
“Sometimes,” Stone admitted, “but not always. There are limits to what an ex-policeman can do.”
“I understand. I simply want you to do whatever you can.”
“On that basis, I’ll go,” Stone said. “I’ll ask my secretary to book me on a flight this evening.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Bartholomew said, digging into his briefcase and coming up with an envelope secured with a rubber band. He tossed it onto Stone’s desk. “You’re booked on a two P.M. flight to London, and I’ve reserved accommodation for you at the Connaught hotel. There’s five thousand pounds sterling in the envelope and the name of a man at Coutts Bank in The Strand who will provide you with more, should you need it. Please enjoy whatever food, drink, and guests you may wish to have at the Connaught; the bill will come to me, and you need not keep track of your expenses.”
“That’s very generous,” Stone replied.
“All the relevant addresses and phone numbers are in the file, as is my card. Call me should you need advice or assistance of any sort. I understand that this may take a week or two, or even longer, so don’t feel pressed for time. I want this done in the best way possible, regardless of time or cost.” He reached into his briefcase, came up with a box, and placed it on Stone’s desk. “This is a satellite telephone that will work anywhere in Britain. Please use it to contact me when necessary; my number is programmed into the first digit. All you do is press one and hold it, and I’ll be on the other end. Please keep it with you at all times, in case I should wish to contact you.”
“All right.”
Bartholomew stood up. “Now, I must hurry to an appointment, and you have a flight to catch.” He shook hands with Stone, closed his briefcase, and marched out of the office, a man in a hurry.
Chapter 3
STONE WENT UPSTAIRS AND STARTED packing. He had no real idea what clothes he might need, so he overpacked, as he often did, taking three cases. He was gathering his toiletries when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Dino. You all right? You got pretty snockered last night.”
“Yes, I did, but I’m bearing up. In fact, I’m off to London in a couple of hours.”
“For what?”
“Some client of Woodman and Weld has a niece who’s about to get herself in trouble in London, and I’m supposed to bring her back.”
“Who’s the client?”
“A man named John Bartholomew.” Stone dug in the file for Bartholomew’s card. It bore only a phone number and a cellphone number. “Sorry, I thought I had a business card, but it’s only a number.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Yes, you can see if a man named Lance Cabot has a sheet.”
“Just a minute,” Dino said.
Stone could hear computer keys clicking.
“Nope, nothing on him, either in our computer or the federal database.”
“Too bad, I was hoping for some ammunition. You know anybody at Scotland Yard?”
“Yeah, I think so; let me check the Rolodex.” Another pause. “Here we go: Evelyn, with a long E, Throckmorton.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I swear to God, that’s his name, and don’t forget the long E, otherwise it’s a girl’s name. He’s in that Special Branch thing, with a rank of detective inspector. He was over here last year, looking for an Irish terrorist, and he needed an Italian cop for some help, since the Irish cops wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”
“Is that what he does? Chase terrorists?”
“Beats me; I didn’t get to know him that well, but he owes me a favor, so I’ll call him for you.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”
“How you feeling about Callie this morning?”
“Okay, though you and Elaine were no help at all.”
“I seem to recall there’s a lady in London called Sarah Buckminster.”
“That crossed my mind.”
“She might be just the thing to help you get over Callie.”
“I’m already over Callie, but what the hell?”
“Okay, pal, have a good trip. Call me if you get in over your head.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I’m always having to pull you out of the shit, you know. What makes you think this trip will be any different?”