“We can stop there on the way home, if you like,” Stone said.

“Only if we lose the nomination,” Ann said. “Then I’d need somewhere to lick my wounds. But if Kate wins, then I’m going to have more on my hands than I know what to do with.”

“That gives me a terrible conflict of interest,” Stone said.

The phone on the table buzzed, and Stone picked it up. “Yes?”

“Mr. Bill Eggers for you, Mr. Barrington,” Manolo said.

“Excuse me a minute while I take this,” Stone said. He picked up the phone and walked away from the table. “Hello, Bill?” Eggers was the managing partner of Stone’s law firm, Woodman & Weld.

“Hello, Stone,” Eggers said. “I know you’re having too much fun out there, so I scared up some work for you.”

“Gee, thanks, Bill, I’m just sitting here, having lunch with Ed Eagle, and you had to interrupt.”

“Tell Ed I said hello. This could be a good client,” Bill said. “A Britisher named Charles Grosvenor is making a move to Los Angeles and he wants a law firm to represent him. Word is, they’re part of the London Grosvenor family, which includes the Duke of Westminster.”

“You’ve got a dozen good lawyers in the L.A. office,” Stone said.

“Your name came up—apparently he’s heard of you from a friend.”

“What friend?”

“I don’t know, but I’d appreciate it if you’d meet with them. They’re staying down the road at the Bel-Air Hotel.”

“All right, I’ll call them this afternoon,” Stone said. “Maybe we can have a drink later in the day.”

“That’s good. Let me know what comes of your conversation.”

“I’ll do that.” Stone hung up and went back to the table.

“Bill Eggers says hello, Ed. He also says I’m having too much fun out here, so he’s found me some work.”

“It’ll be good for you,” Ed said.

“We’ll see.”

Chapter 12

Stone called the Bel-Air and was connected to Grosvenor’s suite. A young woman with an upper-class English accent answered the phone.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Barrington,” she said. “Mr. Grosvenor is out at the moment, but he asked if you could meet him at the Bel-Air for a drink later today.”

“Of course.”

“Five o’clock, in the bar, then?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Mr. Grosvenor looks forward to meeting you.” She hung up.

—

THE BAR AT the Bel-Air was virtually deserted when Stone arrived, wearing a necktie for the occasion, and he looked around, then selected one of two chairs by the fireplace, where a small blaze lit up that side of the room. A moment later, a tall, beautifully dressed, distinguished-looking man, fiftyish, entered the room, spotted him, and walked over.

“I expect you must be Mr. Barrington,” he said, smiling, “since you’re the only person here.”