“How did you happen to come aboard?”

“Jim hired me to work out of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. I had spent some time out there, and I had the language.”

A little bell went off in Stone’s brain, and he remembered the last thing Jim Hackett had said to him before he was shot. “Except for that business about the Somersville churchyard,” Hackett had said, “I never lied to you about anything.”

Stone looked over his shoulder. The moonlight that was coming through a window illuminated Felicity, fast asleep in her comfortable seat, a cashmere blanket over her. He took a deep breath. “I remember now,” he said. “Jim told me about how Lord Wight recommended a man to him, someone with experience in North Africa and the Middle East.”

“Yes, that’s how I found my way to Jim,” Freeman said.

Stone turned and looked at Freeman. “And he told me the man’s name.” He saw Freeman wince. “Stanley Whitestone, I presume.”

Freeman’s shoulders sagged. “Can Felicity hear us on the intercom?” he asked.

“No, she’s not wearing a headset,” Stone replied, “and she’s asleep.”

Freeman sighed. “I thought that, with Jim’s death, I’d be safe. I should have known that someone would figure it out. I’m sorry it was you, Stone.”

“So you arranged Jim’s death?”

Freeman turned to face him. “I most certainly did not! My, God, I loved the man!”

Stone shrugged. “I had to ask.”

“Does Felicity believe that Jim was Whitestone?”

“Pretty much,” Stone said.

“Are you under some ethical obligation to tell her the truth?”

“I’m no longer employed by her service,” Stone said. “She paid me off and fired me the day before yesterday.”

“I think it might be best for everyone if she continued to believe what she believes,” Freeman said.

Stone thought about that for a few minutes as they moved through the night at 400 miles an hour. Finally, he spoke. “I concur,” he said.

They flew along for another ten minutes without talking. Stone wondered if Freeman had fallen asleep, but then he stirred.

“Since we don’t know what’s waiting for us in New York,” Freeman said, “I think we have to get Felicity back to London, and quietly.”

Stone thought about it. “Once again, I concur. How are we going to get her home quietly?”

“Leave that to me,” Freeman said. “I think it would be best if you accompanied her.”

“I can do that,” Stone said.

“Have her ready to go tomorrow night. You’ll be picked up at nine at the Plaza. Someone will call your suite and ask if the package is ready for pickup. You reply, ‘Not until tomorrow at noon.’ He’ll give you instructions.”

Eighty miles out of Teterboro, Stone tuned in the ATIS and jotted down the information. He loaded the Instrument Landing System for runway 19, and as soon as he was handed off from Boston Center to New York Approach and got his first vector, he activated the approach. He got graduated instructions to descend to 3,000 feet and was cleared for the approach. His was the only airplane on the air at that time of night.