“We’ll excuse you for disagreeing, Hal,” St. Clair said, “as long as you’re not disagreeable at my table.”

“Then I’d better keep my mouth shut,” Ozick said.

“As you wish.”

The plates were taken away and a Stilton appeared on the table, along with a decanter of port. They were shown the label: a Quinta do Noval, 1966.

“And whom do we thank for this?” Stone asked.

“That is from your host,” Holder said. “I don’t know a damn thing about port.”

They all raised their glasses to their host and drank, and the cheese was passed around.

“And where, Christian, do you find such superb Stilton in Maine?”

“From Paxton & Whitfield, Jermyn Street, London. Just around the corner.”

—

AFTER THEY HAD made love and were catching their breath, Stone said, “What did you think of Nelson Knott?”

Holly sat straight up in bed. “I think he’s a very dangerous man.”

“Why so?”

“He’s smart as a rattlesnake, but with a lot of charm when he wants to use it.”

“And how did you learn this?”

“Don’t you ever have trouble sleeping?”

“Never.”

“Well, I do, and at three in the morning, Nelson Knott is about all the company you can find on TV. That man is the slickest thing you ever saw, and if he’s as rich as Forbes said he is, and if he’s doing what he says he’s doing in all fifty states, he’s going to be a handful.”

“Really?”

“You just watch—the press are going to love him.”

20

STONE AND HOLLY GOT DRESSED the following morning and went up for breakfast. A hot buffet had been set out under the afterdeck awning. Harold and Cassandra Ozick were already seated at the table.

Stone and Holly helped themselves and sat down. “Good morning,” Stone said to the Ozicks.

Ozick muttered something unintelligible, but it didn’t sound welcoming.

“That was a great dinner last night, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Ozick admitted. “So, you’re a member of the Democrat Party, are you?”

“No, I’m a member of the Democratic Party.”

“Whatever.”

“And you’re a very big contributor to the Republican Party, aren’t you?”

“I buy men, not parties,” Ozick said. He caught himself: “That is, I invest in them.”

“Interesting,” Stone said. “I read somewhere what you did in the last election, but it slips my mind. How much did you invest?”

“Higher than you can count,” Ozick said. “And I’ll keep doing it as long as there’s a Democrat in the White House.”

“Tell me,” Stone said, “are you happy with your return on investment?”

“We’ve still got the House.”

“But that’s not enough, is it?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Who are you going to . . invest . . . in next time?”

“I may have to give it a fresh look. That fellow Knott has already asked me for a hundred million.”

“What do you like about Nelson?”