Stone didn’t want to think about that.
“The friction with Stan started when I began to develop my own sources and collaborators. He was working out of the Cairo embassy by then, his cover being something like agricultural attaché, and he ran a tight ship. When I wouldn’t share my contacts with him or anybody else, he began to ride me. I was mingling a lot in the upper reaches of Middle Eastern society, too, so some of my sources were very well placed. I’d write reports giving a lot of good information, which Stan would always say was worthless because I wouldn’t ascribe it to a verifiable source. Then I began getting reports past him, directly to Langley, which is against Company policy, and that drove him nuts. The Company has a chain of command, just like the military, and if you violate it, you have to be very, very careful. Stan’s problem was that my information in these reports nearly always turned out to be accurate, and it made Stan look bad that he hadn’t passed them on to Langley himself.”
“I can see how that might annoy him.”
“Then the explosion of the safe house happened, and after he recovered from that, I’ve been hearing from old friends, he became diminished in the eyes of his superiors and something of a has-been in the eyes of his inferiors. That’s when he really started going for the main chance.”
“And he hasn’t been caught at it?”
“Stan’s too smart to get caught in the usual ways. Somebody would have to turn on him, and that’s why he worries about me. Sometimes I think that if I could sit down at dinner with him, I could put his mind at rest, but he regards me as as much of a business competitor now as a threat to his personal security.”
“I can see that it’s a difficult situation,” Stone said.
Lance looked sad. “One of us is not going to survive this situation,” he said. Then he looked grim. “And it isn’t going to be me.”
Then the ladies came looking for them.
“I think you’re going queer for Lance,” Sarah said. She was lying on top of Stone, having just drained him of most of his precious bodily fluids.
“What?” Stone managed to say, still panting.
“The two of you went into this huddle after dinner, and I think you’d still be there, if I hadn’t come in and dragged you away.” She began toying with his penis.
“You’re not going to find any joy there,” Stone said. “Not after what you’ve just put me through. I may take weeks to recover.”
“Nonsense,” she said, squeezing. “You’re recovering already.”
Stone groaned.
“I’m going to make you forget about Lance,” she said, traveling down his torso with her tongue, until she had him in her mouth.
She was absolutely right, Stone thought. Lance was right out of his mind.
Chapter 27
STONE HAD FINISHED BREAKFAST AND was reading the London papers in the morning room when Sarah came in.
“And how are we this morning?” she asked, in the manner of a visiting nurse. She pecked him on the forehead.
“I don’t know about you,” he said in a low voice, “but I can hardly walk.”
“You’re out of shape,” she laughed. “We’ll have to get you fit again. Come on, we’re going to the market.” She tugged him out of the chair, grabbed a basket by the front door, and led him outside, where an ancient Morris Minor estate car, nicely kept, awaited them.
“Where’s everybody else?” Stone asked, as Sarah started the car.
“Erica’s sleeping in; Lance wanted a drive, so I loaned him the Mini Cooper.”
“Where’d Lance go?”
“I dunno; just for a drive.” They passed through the gates of the estate, and Sarah turned toward the village. Shortly, they had stopped in front of a small grocery.
Down the block, Stone spotted the bright orange Mini Cooper. “You go ahead and shop,” he said to Sarah; “I want to have a look at the village.”
“All right; meet me at the car in half an hour; I’ll be done by then.” She went into the grocery.
Stone started down the street toward the Mini Cooper. It was empty, and he looked around, wondering where Lance might have gone. Then he saw him enter a pub across the street. Stone glanced at his watch; it was just opening time. He dawdled down the street, wondering why Lance would be in a pub before lunch. Wasn’t there enough booze back at the house? He considered going inside himself, but Lance’s behavior was unusual enough that he preferred not to be seen following him. He ducked into a news agent’s across from the pub, bought a Herald Tribune, and pretended to read it. No more than a minute had passed when he saw two people get out of a parked saloon car and head for the pub.