At Stone’s house Gala seemed to relax for the first time since leaving L.A. Then she got a phone call; she listened for a moment, thanked the caller, and hung up in tears. “That was a friend of mine who’s a real estate agent in Santa Fe. She heard that Boris is house hunting.”

“In Santa Fe?”

“In Tesuque,” she replied. “He wants to move into my neighborhood.”

“I’ll call Ed Eagle and ask him to get a temporary restraining order against Boris,” Stone said.

“Will that work?”

“I’ll find out.” Stone called Ed and had a long conversation with him, then hung up. “Ed’s going to try for an order that will keep him out of a two-mile radius from your home. If he can get it, and he thinks he can, that will keep him out of Tesuque.”

“For now.”

“Now is what we have to deal with.”

“I can’t impose on your hospitality forever.”

“You’re not imposing.” Stone had a thought. “You expressed an interest in seeing my house in England. Still interested?”

“Oh, yes! Boris would never figure that out.”

“You can bring your computer and work there.”

“Perfect!”

“Let me make some calls and see if we can catch a ride on a bigger jet. It’s kind of a trek in mine—we’d have to spend a night in Newfoundland or Ireland to break up the trip.”

“However you want to do it is fine with me.”

—

It took two calls before he found that the Strategic Services jet was flying to Paris the following day and could drop them in the south of England. Gala was thrilled with the news.

Stone had another thought. “Gala, do you know what kind of cell phone Boris uses?”

“He always gets the latest iPhone.”

“Do you have the number?”

She recited it from memory.

Stone called his tech guy, Bob Cantor.

“Hello.”

“Bob, it’s Stone. You told me once that you had been working on some kind of tracer software for cell phones.”

“I did, and it’s up and running.”

Stone gave him Tirov’s number. “Can you arrange for me to get warnings if that phone is anywhere near me, like in England?”

“Sure. I’ll send the guy an irresistible e-mail, and if he opens it, it will plant the software on his phone. At what range do you want the warning to be effective?”

“Couple of hundred miles?”

“Consider it done.”

“Thanks, Bob.” He hung up.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“Bob will arrange for us to get a warning if Boris gets within two hundred miles of us.”

“How can he do that?”

“Don’t ask.”

“I won’t.”

“You might want to do a little shopping for England while you’re in New York. It’ll be pleasant this time of year, but it’s not L.A. or Santa Fe.”

“You mean I’ll need a raincoat?”