“Our Russian friends have a large variety of skills at their disposal,” Wilfred said. “I will engage them and get back to you.”

“Thank you,” Roger said, relieved. “I’m perfectly willing to kill them all, but I don’t want to get caught doing it.”

“I understand,” Wilfred replied. “Let’s discuss time.”

“When I had dinner there before, it was called for seven,” Roger said. “Felicity and I arrived by boat, at Barrington’s dock.”

“Where did you dine, and how was the wine handled?”

“We dined in the library, and the wine was already on the table, ready for decanting. I suppose the butler had brought it from the cellar.”

“You will have to find a way to have access to the wine for, perhaps, half a minute.”

“If dinner is at seven, then at six, Barrington and Rose will be dressing for dinner.”

“Then there’s your opportunity,” Wilfred said.

57

Thursday morning, Felicity’s boatman delivered two bottles of claret to the kitchen, and Stone inspected them: a Château Palmer 1961 and a Mouton Rothschild 1978. He set them upright in a corner of the kitchen. “I’ll decant these at table tomorrow night,” he said to the cook. “Please leave them as they are until then.”

—

Lance got into his office on Friday morning at eight, as usual. He was surprised to find the deputy director for operations, his DDO, awaiting him in his reception room, sipping coffee.

“Good morning, Hugh,” Lance said. He unlocked his office door with his code. “Come in, please. You’re up early.”

The two men took seats on the sofa in Lance’s office, and he poured himself coffee from a thermos his secretary had left there. “More?”

“Thank you, yes,” Hugh English said, pushing his mug over.

Lance poured the coffee. “What brings you to see me?”

Hugh handed him two sheets of paper. “This came in late yesterday. I’m afraid the transmission was very broken, but what’s there is of concern.”

Lance read down the two sheets, trying to mentally fill in the gaps. He did not like what he saw. “Where was this recorded?”

“In the basement workshop at a book bindery and antique-book store in London.”

“The one in the Burlington Arcade?”

“That’s it. Owned and operated by Wilfred Thomas, the Earl of Chelsea.”

“Ah, yes, the duke’s third. What do you make of it?”

“It sounds very much, in the earlier part of the transcript, as if the earl has intentions where Felicity Devonshire and Stone Barrington are concerned.”

Lance read the two pages more carefully. “I see what you mean, but I’m unable to discern when, where, or by what means—not from this.”

“Yes, we did better with the early part of the meeting, though we could not identify the second party, and we have been unable to fully read or hear the latter part.”

“Can the recording be enhanced?”

“That is the enhanced version,” English replied.