“Which raises the question—what did the official require of him in return?”

“I have a feeling you are going to tell us,” Stone said.

Felicity smiled a foxy smile. “I am. The official asked if his former friend were acquainted with a certain Hollywood actress, whose new film is premiering in Moscow tomorrow evening. When he replied in the affirmative, the official requested that he arrange for the actress to join him in his quarters for dinner. Apparently, your acquaintance was able to secure the woman for that purpose.”

“I know who the actress is,” Gala said. “I read in one of the trades online that the female star is Nathalie Dumont, who is a friend of mine.”

“You are correct,” Felicity replied. “Is she likely to accept such an obvious setup?”

“Not to help Boris, she isn’t—she despises him.”

“Then perhaps he worked through a third party—someone at her studio?” Stone suggested.

“That makes sense—it’s the sort of thing Boris would think of.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Felicity pointed out. “And I’m dying to know. Would Ms. Dumont be agreeable to the assignation?”

Gala thought about that. “Not as a matter of course, I think, but if there were something important in it for her, then probably.”

“Oh good!” Felicity cried, clapping her hands. “It’s not often I get something this juicy crossing my desk.”

“Suppose,” Stone said, “that Ms. Dumont learned of the origin of the request?”

“She would not react well if she knew that it was Boris who desired it. In fact, I think she would take pleasure in refusing, if she thought it might cause him difficulties.”

“Are you in touch with her?”

“I have her cell number,” Gala replied. “Do you think it would work in Moscow?”

“They seem to work everywhere these days,” Felicity said.

Gala reached into her bag for her phone. “What should I say to her?”

“Just that the dinner was arranged surreptitiously through Tirov, and that he’s getting something important in return.”

“All right.” Gala went to her contacts and pressed the button. She turned on the speakerphone.

The number rang a few times, then a robovoice message played. Gala shrugged. “Nathalie, it’s Gala. When you get this, please give me a call.” She hung up and looked at her watch. “Felicity, did you say that the assignation was for tonight?”

“That was my information.”

“It’s an hour or two later in Moscow.”

“Three hours later.”

“Then she’s probably at the Kremlin right now.”

“Oh, well, there goes her virtue,” Felicity said, “in a manner of speaking.”

—

As they were going upstairs after dinner, Gala leaned close to Stone. “What was all that business about the Official Secrets Act?”

“It would seem,” Stone said quietly, “that MI6 has somehow placed a recording device either in President Petrov’s office or on his phone lines. Or both.”

“Oh.”

35