“I think I can just about bodily drag you to the elevator,” he said, “but that’s about it.”

“Do with me as you will,” she said.

He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. “I fully intend to.” He took the elevator.

54

On Saturday, a few hours later and eighty miles or so north, another couple, housed in Eaton Place, were having much the same experience as Stone and Felicity.

“I’ve never been married before,” Roger breathed. “I like it.”

“And I only once, and I didn’t like it,” Jennifer replied. “Now I do. The odd thing is, we’re doing the same things to each other that we always do, but it seems to be better because we’re married.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

Roger’s phone rang. “The hell with it,” he said, thrusting.

“You have to answer it,” she said. “Otherwise, they’ll come looking for us.”

“Shit!” he yelled but did not disengage. “Hello?”

“Good morning, Roger,” Alex said.

“It is, isn’t it.”

“I trust the honeymoon is over.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“It’s time to talk about a new assignment.”

“Does it have to be today?”

“It does. Come to a shop in Burlington Arcade called Literary Antiquities, at eleven AM. Take the usual steps to avoid followers; it’s critically important today.”

“Got it,” Roger said.

“Don’t bring Jennifer, but you may employ her in your evasion tactics.”

“All right.” They both hung up.

“It was Alex, wasn’t it?” she asked, still moving with him.

“Of course. And at the most inconvenient time.”

“What time does he want you?”

“Eleven AM, in three hours.”

She increased her pace and brought him off almost immediately. “There,” she said. “Now I’ll get us some breakfast. You stay where you are.”

Roger followed her instructions and dozed off. He was awakened by the weight of a tray on his lap. She plumped the pillows for him, and he sat up. Eggs, back bacon, buttered toast, freshly squeezed orange juice, and a pot of strong coffee on the bedside table. He tucked into it.

“Is today likely to be another hit?”

“I expect so,” Jennifer replied. “They know now how good you are at it.”

“After the trial run,” he said.

“How did you feel about that?” she asked. “You haven’t said anything.”

“I knew it would be Garr,” he said. “They were smart to choose him.”

“They are very smart,” she said. “Not just Alex. Everyone you met at the party. They’re the smartest people I’ve ever known.”

“Smarter than those at Oxford?”

“Their intelligence is less fuzzy, more directed. There’s nothing dreamy about them. Where is your meet? Do you need my help?”

“It’s at a shop in the Burlington Arcade.”

“Literary Antiquities?”

“That’s the one.”

“It’s Alex’s shop,” she said. “Or rather, Wilfred’s.”

“Is that his real name?”

“Yes. Wilfred Thomas.”