Chapters (75)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Chapter1
- Chapter2
- Chapter3
- Chapter4
- Chapter5
- Chapter6
- Chapter7
- Chapter8
- Chapter9
- Chapter10
- Chapter11
- Chapter12
- Chapter13
- Chapter14
- Chapter15
- Chapter16
- Chapter17
- Chapter18
- Chapter19
- Chapter20
- Chapter21
- Chapter22
- Chapter23
- Chapter24
- Chapter25
- Chapter26
- Chapter27
- Chapter28
- Chapter29
- Chapter30
- Chapter31
- Chapter32
- Chapter33
- Chapter34
- Chapter35
- Chapter36
- Chapter37
- Chapter38
- Chapter39
- Chapter40
- Chapter41
- Chapter42
- Chapter43
- Chapter44
- Chapter45
- Chapter46
- Chapter47
- Chapter48
- Chapter49
- Chapter50
- Chapter51
- Chapter52
- Chapter53
- Chapter54
- Chapter55
- Chapter56
- Chapter57
- Chapter58
- Chapter59
- Chapter60
- Chapter61
- Chapter62
- Chapter63
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- “We Are Very Different People”:
- Stone Barrington: The First Five
- About the Author
- Critical Acclaim forStuart Woods and
- Books by Stuart Woods
- Credits
- About the Publisher
“Oh, the food is better there than you might imagine, since the prisoners prepare it themselves in their own little kitchen. They give the warden a grocery list, and he gets them whatever they want. Since they’re not paying a cook, it’s cheaper letting them cook for themselves, no matter what they’re cooking.”
“I haven’t heard much about the prime minister,” Stone said. “What is he like?”
“He is exactly my age, which is eighty-nine, if you were wondering, and in better health than I.”
“How long has he been prime minister?”
“Since 1966, when the British left.”
“That’s rather a long time in office, isn’t it?”
“The people have always liked him. He is not in the way of being oppressive, and he has never been too corrupt.”
“Just a little corrupt?”
“Oh, well, you know how government officials are. They are paid very little, really. Do you think Sir Winston pays for his Savile Row suits from his meager salary?”
“I thought perhaps his beautiful wife had money.”
“She does, in fact; her father held Sir Winston’s job for more than twenty years.”
Stone laughed aloud.
“I know you may think our country amusing, Stone, but it really does work very well, you know. Mostly we live and let live, and if some of us live better than others, well, that’s the way of the world, isn’t it? Sometimes I think we are able to be viable as a country because of our climate.”
“Your climate?”
“It’s warm year-round, you see, and hot in the summer. When people are warm in winter, they tend to think that they are not so badly off. There are fish in the sea and work in the hotels and bars, and clothing, if one is not a member of the governmental or managerial classes, is rudimentary—a length of cloth, a shawl, a bandanna, a pair of shorts will dress one well enough for most St. Marks occasions.”
“This country has not been so good to you, Leslie,” Stone said. “I understand that you come from some wealth.”
“That is true. When I was younger I was something of a firebrand in the legal system. I would have much preferred the American definition of reasonable doubt to our own; I would have preferred better-paid and unimpeachable officials and a more frequent change of prime minister. I was not popular.”
“If your prime minister is eighty-nine, then there must be a change of power in the offing.”
“That is true,” Hewitt said, “and Sir Winston is one of two or three who might succeed the present occupant of that office. If he wins a conviction in our case, that will probably give him a distinct advantage.”
“Why?”
“Because he will be seen to have prevailed over a wealthy white American with a white American lawyer.”
“Would he really have Allison put to death in order to obtain a political advantage?”