“I don’t believe he’s joining us for cocktails,” Holly replied, “but we’d be delighted to have you anyway.”

“Ed, where have you been?”

“Shopping,” Rawls replied.

“Shopping?”

“At Brooks Brothers. I haven’t bought any clothes for some years that didn’t come from L.L. Bean, and everything I had went up with the house.” Ed raised a glass and took a swig of his Talisker. “Then we took a stroll in Central Park.”

“A stroll?”

“A stroll,” Ed repeated. “You know, one foot in front of the other? We had a hot dog, too.”

Stone poured himself a drink and sat down. “I was concerned.”

“About me? How nice of you, Stone, but why?”

“You vanished. We didn’t know where you were.”

“I’m very sorry. I didn’t consider that you might want to know where I was.”

“Apparently,” Holly said, “you didn’t miss me at all—not the least concern for my whereabouts.”

“I believe that’s called being hoist with your own petard,” Ed said with something resembling a smirk.

Mercifully, the phone rang before Stone had to reply. “Hello?”

“It’s Dino.”

“Hello, Dino, what can I do for you?”

“I was calling to ask if I should block the bridges and tunnels, check the airports, and canvas the hospitals.”

“What?”

“For Ed.”

“Oh, no, that’s quite all right. He’s fine, he just went for a stroll.” He said that before he caught himself.

“A stroll?”

“Well, yes, he went shopping, too. Brooks Brothers.”

Silence.

“His clothes all burned up in the fire.”

“And he wasn’t kidnapped or assassinated along the way?”

“He’s perfectly all right, Dino.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” Dino said, then hung up.

Stone hung up, too. “That was Dino,” he explained.

“We got that when you called him Dino,” Holly said. “I believe you were explaining, or attempting to, how it came to be that you missed Ed, but not me.”

“Ah, can I get anybody another drink?”

“We’ve hardly started on this one.” Holly turned to Ed. “He has no explanation.”

Stone got himself another drink.

27

THE FOLLOWING MORNING Stone was at his desk again when Joan buzzed.

“Yes?”

“There are two gentlemen here who would like to see you, but they won’t tell me who they are.”

“Tell them to go away,” Stone said.

Joan buzzed back. “That didn’t work.”

“Tell them to show you some ID, or you’ll call the police.”

Joan hung up, then buzzed back.

“Yes?”

“They say they’re from the Central Intelligence Agency.”

“ID?”

“Yes, on both counts.”

Joan brought two middle-aged men in business suits into Stone’s office. They introduced themselves as Parsons and Queen.

“Let’s see some ID,” Stone said.

They produced wallets.

“All right, sit down.”

“We’re here to see Edward Rawls.”

“Mr. Rawls isn’t seeing callers,” Stone said. “I’m his attorney. What’s this about?”