There was a sharp rap on his door, and he went to answer it. His dinner had arrived, and he didn’t feel like eating it.
Chapter 39
STONE, HAVING LAIN AWAKE UNTIL the middle of the night, slept as if drugged. It was mid-morning before he woke up, and his first move was to call the embassy residence again and ask for Arrington. There was a long delay, then a woman came on the line.
“Stone?”
“Arrington, I’m so sorry, I—”
“Stone, it’s Barbara Wellington.”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were Arrington. I’ve been trying to reach her; she wasn’t taking calls last night.”
“I know; she came home very hurt and angry last night; she said you had abandoned her in the middle of dinner at the Connaught. What happened?”
“Some people showed up that I absolutely had to see, and—”
“She also said that when she got up to go to the ladies’ she saw you kissing another woman in the Connaught lobby, so when you reach her, I don’t think you ought to try and pass that off as business.”
“It was business—not the woman—but three men I had to see, and—”
“And when she came back from the ladies’ you had disappeared, and the concierge said you had gone up to your suite with a guest.”
“With three guests—they insisted. You see—”
“Stone, it’s not I you have to convince, so save your strength.”
“May I speak to Arrington, please?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Barbara, please just tell her there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for—”
“Stone, Arrington has gone.”
“Gone where? Where can I reach her?”
“To New York; she left here about twenty minutes ago for Heathrow. I think she’ll be staying at the Carlyle. If I were you, I’d go after her, get the next plane.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that—”
“You’re going to have to resolve this face-to-face.”
“How long did you say she’d been gone?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“What airline?”
“British Airways.”
“Do you know the flight number?”
“No, but it leaves around noon, I think. You have to be there early these days, because of all the security stuff.”
“Thank you, Barbara.” Stone hung up, then picked up the phone again. “Please ask the doorman to get me a cab for Heathrow immediately,” he said to the operator. “I’ll be right down.”
He threw on some clothes and, unshaven and unshowered, ran for the elevator. The doorman had the cab door open as he came through the revolving door, and he dove into the rear seat.
“Heathrow, is it, sir?” the cabbie asked.
“Right, and hurry.”
The driver pulled away and turned up Mount Street, headed for Park Lane. “Shouldn’t be too bad this time of day; what airline?”
“British Airways, first-class entrance.”
“Righto.”
Stone sat back and stared out the window, frequently glancing at his watch. Traffic wasn’t bad, and after the Chiswick Roundabout, it became even better.
“Excuse me, sir,” the driver said, “I don’t want you to think I’ve come over all paranoid, but I’m quite sure there’s a car following us.”
Stone spun around and looked at the traffic behind them. “Which one?”
“It’s a black Ford, the big one; at least two men in it, about four cars back.”
“Are they staying back, or are they trying to overtake us?” Stone asked.
“They were closer before; now they’re just lying back there, keeping us in sight.” What now? he thought. Have the two big “Greeks” been replaced in the lineup?
“Is there any way you can shake them?”
“Not on this road; they’re faster than I am. I could get off the motorway and try and lose them in Hammersmith.”
He had no time for that. “Never mind, just get me to Heathrow as fast as you can.”
“Righto.”
The driver stayed in the center of three lanes, driving fast; the black Ford held its position, and when the cab left the motorway at the Heathrow turnoff, Stone saw the Ford’s turn signal go on.
The driver followed the signs to the British Airways terminal, still driving fast. Stone reached into a pocket for money, and discovered he had none. He had nothing in his pockets.
The cab screeched to a halt. “Wait for me here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t know if . . .”
But Stone was gone at a run. He did not see the black Ford stop fifty yards back and two men get out. He dashed into the terminal and ran for the first-class ticket counter. There were three people in line; he ignored them and went to the desk. “Excuse me, this is an emergency; can you tell me if Mrs. Arrington Calder has checked in yet?”