Stone turned into the garage and closed the door behind him. “Stay for dinner,” he said to Willa.
“You talked me into it,” she replied.
Stone had just deposited their bags in his bedroom when the phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Cantor. Willie got photos of the two men on your house and e-mailed them to me.”
“Were you able to ID them?”
“No, but I sent them to a few people, and I just got a hit from one of them. They’re Israeli.”
“Israeli? What the hell?”
“And not just Israeli, but Mossad, their secret intelligence service. Both are attached to their UN Mission here.”
“Okay, I’m baffled.”
“Me too. Have you been making anti-Semitic remarks lately?”
Stone laughed. “Of course not; I’d have you to deal with, and you’re worse than the Mossad.”
“Just checking.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any way to find out why they’re here.”
“Well, we could ask them, but I don’t think they would tell us. See you later.”
“What’s that about Israelis?” Willa asked.
“The two men that were watching the house are Mossad.”
“This gets more exotic by the hour,” she said.
“Too exotic for me,” Stone replied. He dialed Pablo’s cell number.
“Yes?” Pablo said warily.
“It’s Stone.”
“I’m surprised my phone works.”
“Me too. Two men have been spotted watching my house, and a trusted source tells me they’re Mossad. You know anything about that?”
“I’ve done business with Israel many times, and on a few occasions with Mossad.”
“Have you annoyed them lately?”
“I make it a point not to annoy my customers,” Pablo replied.
“Well, they’re not looking for me,” Stone said. “I’ve never had anything to do with either Israel or the Mossad. It’s gotta be you.”
“I’ll make a couple of calls tonight and see what I can come up with,” Pablo said.
“Just in case somebody’s listening,” Stone said, “would you mention that you’re not at my house?”
Pablo laughed. “Of course.” He hung up.
So did Stone. “I’ve got some steaks in the fridge,” he said to Willa, “and I make a mean risotto. Dinner here okay?”
“More than okay,” she said, kissing him.
They were having dinner in the kitchen when the phone rang. Stone got up and answered it. “Hello?”
“Mr. Stone Barrington?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Aaron Beck. I am with the Israeli UN Mission.”
“Yes?”
“I wish to apologize for the presence of our people near your house this afternoon. I realize they must have caused you some anxiety.”
“I think my friends may have caused your men some anxiety.”
“I wonder if I might invite you to lunch tomorrow to discuss this situation.”
“How good a lunch are we talking about?” Stone asked.
“Would the Four Seasons Grill suffice?”
“It would suffice very nicely,” Stone replied. “What time?”
“One o’clock?”
“See you there, Mr. Beck.” Stone hung up.
“Now what?” Willa asked.
“Now the Mossad wants to have lunch at the Four Seasons,” Stone replied.