“Speaking of food,” Stone said, reaching for a menu. A waiter set down a Wild Turkey on the rocks. “Want to share the porterhouse for two?”

“Why not?” Dino said. “I haven’t eaten. Mary Ann is at her father’s.”

“The porterhouse, medium to medium rare,” Stone said to the waiter.

“Make that rare,” Dino said.

“Make it rare on his side,” Stone countered, and the waiter went away.

Carpenter suddenly appeared, looking businesslike in a suit. She sat down.

“Drink? Dinner?” Dino asked.

“Neither. I’ll eat on the airplane.”

“There’s a flight to London this time of night?” Stone asked.

“There’s an RAF airplane waiting for me at Teterboro,” she said. “I’m taking back two bodies as hand baggage.”

“Oh, yes.”

“What will happen to La Biche’s remains?” she asked Dino.

“Potter’s field is my guess.”

“No,” Stone interjected. He told them about the package from Marie-Thérèse. “She wants her ashes sent back to Switzerland.”

“Why don’t you just flush them down the toilet?” Carpenter asked.

“Shut up, Felicity,” Stone said.

“You liked her, didn’t you?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t. I admired . . . some of what she was—determined, even principled, in a way.”

“And you don’t like me anymore?”

“I like you, but I don’t admire you,” Stone said.

“I did what had to be done.”

“No, you did what you had to do; there’s a difference.”

“At least I know that she’s not after me anymore. I can relax now.”

“I don’t know how you can ever relax again,” Stone said.

“I’m quitting, you know.”

“Are you really?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Don’t think about it, just quit. You can’t be a human being again until you do.”

“I wish you understood,” she said.

Stone shrugged. “Like you said, it’s a war; what’s to understand?”

She stood up. “I have to go.” She gave Dino a hug, then turned to Stone.

“I don’t feel like kissing you,” she said.

“Then don’t.”

“Call me when you’re in London?”

“After you’ve retired.”

She gave him a little wave, then left.

They were quiet for a while, sipping their drinks, then Dino finally spoke. “You were too hard on her.”

“Was I?”

“We all have our dirty work to do—Carpenter, me, and you.”

Stone downed the rest of his bourbon and signaled a waiter for another. “I think you’d better order a police car to take me home tonight.”

“It’s waiting outside,” Dino said.

THE END

Mount Desert, Maine, June 26, 2002

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am grateful to my editor at Putnam, David Highfill, for his continuing fine work on my manuscripts and his shepherding of my books inside the publishing house, as I am to all the people behind the scenes at Putnam who do so much to make my work a success.