“They’ll rattle around in there, too,” Jim said.

“So wrap them in pieces of soft cloth, like velvet.”

“When would you have an opportunity to get them out of the snare?”

“At our first break. Union rules: ten minutes every hour.”

Jim shook his head. “We may need them before that.”

“All right, I’ll get them out of the drum while we’re setting up to play. Nobody’s going to be paying attention to the band, especially since they will already have searched us on the way in.”

“How long will that take?” Jim asked

Dino held up a key. “Let’s find out.” He went to where the drums were set up, sat on the stool, and picked up the snare. It took him two minutes to loosen the clamps that held the drumhead on. “There you go. Come and get your guns.”

“Okay,” Jim said. “We’ve got a meeting at two-thirty for everybody who’s going to be inside the house, so we can coordinate.”

Stone began to feel a little nervous. He consoled himself by thinking of Felicity Devonshire and her secret, waiting for him in England.

53

Stone went two floors up, to Marcel’s roof garden, for some air. The sun was shining, and the view was spectacular. His cell rang. “Hello?”

“It’s Joan,” his secretary said. “Arthur Steele tried to call you but couldn’t get through.”

“I don’t know why not—everybody else is getting through.”

“You don’t have to call him back, he just wanted to leave a message.”

“Okay.”

“He says that your insurance policy with him includes, under liability, up to ten million dollars for ransom money. He stressed that it was a liability clause—the person for whom you’re paying the ransom doesn’t have to be a spouse or a relative. This is just to cover any liability exposure you might have.”

“Trust Arthur to think of that.”

“Well, he does run a very large insurance company. I went back and read your policy—he’s right.”

“I never got that far into the fine print,” Stone said. “Who reads his entire insurance policy?”

“Stone, are you in some kind of trouble? Why would you need ransom money?”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”

“And when will that be? The mail is piling up here.”

“Answer as much of it as you can, then save the rest. If it’s a legal matter, send it to Herb Fisher at Woodman & Weld.”

“And you’re coming home when?”

“Maybe another week. I’ve got things to clear up here with Marcel, then I may have to stop in England on the way home.”

“Do you want me to get Pat Frank to come and fly back with you?”

“Joan, I’m rated as a single pilot, I can handle it.”

“If you say so.”

“Don’t sound so doubtful when you say that.”