Stone buzzed Joan. “Could you bring us a pot of coffee, please?” Stone continued. “Mr. Whitestone left his employers under very suspicious circumstances, only a day before their suspicions were confirmed. His crime was selling information to people who used it to make money.”

“Did his employers turn over his finances?”

“I haven’t been told, but it is what they would do.”

“Did they come up with anything that might give us a lead?”

“I can inquire about that, but if such information existed, I expect I would already have it.”

“So, exactly what do we have to go on?” Cantor asked.

“Three things,” Stone said. “One: the photograph. Two: the fact that someone who once knew him saw him twice in the lobby of the Seagram Building during the past few weeks. And three: the person who saw him, who was, incidentally, a member of the legislature of his country, has not been heard from again.”

“Somebody offed him?” Willie Leahy asked, coming to life.

“That is the assumption,” Stone said, “so watch your ass.”

Joan came in with a coffee tray. “Did you say something about Willie watching my ass?” she asked.

“No,” Stone said.

“I was, though,” Willie added. “Nice.”

“You’re sweet,” Joan said, flouncing out of the office.

“So,” Peter Leahy said, “we stake out the Seagram Building?”

“No,” Cantor said. “First, we find out on what days Whitestone was spotted. Then we review the security tapes. I can get hold of those.”

“Good idea,” Stone said. “Excuse me a minute.” He went to his desk, picked up his phone and dialed Felicity’s cell number, which was on a card she had given him.

“Yeesss?” she drawled.

“Can you give me the dates on which Whitestone was seen in the Seagram Building?” he asked.

“One moment,” she said. He heard high heels on a marble floor, then a door closing. “To the best of my recollection, one of the dates was near the end of last month. The other was a couple of weeks before, but that’s the best I can do.”

“Thank you. Have you, in the light of day, remembered anything else at all that might help me?”

“I’m afraid not. See you in the early evening.” She hung up.

Stone walked back to the sofa and sat down. “Both sightings were last month: one near the end of the month, one a couple of weeks earlier. The client couldn’t be more specific.”

“Anything about personal habits?” Cantor asked.

“Women, fine restaurants, and fine arts, especially the opera.”

“We’re not going to have to go to the opera, are we?” Willie Leahy asked.

“You are, unless the Seagram tapes pan out,” Stone said.

Willie made a disgruntled noise.

“I like the opera,” Peter said.

Stone was surprised that he liked something his brother didn’t. “Okay, you can volunteer for the opera house.”

Cantor was looking at the photograph. “If a guy wants to get lost, he has to do one of two things: he has to go somewhere nobody would think to look for him, or he has to change his appearance, or both.”