“The presidents will be aboard, too, since it’s the presidential helicopter.” The presidents were Katharine Lee, the current president, and her husband, Will Lee, the former president.

“Invite them to dinner.”

“I don’t want to dine with them, I want to dine with you. Alone. I need your advice on something.”

“Something that can’t be discussed on a scrambled CIA iPhone?”

“Certainly not. Do you trust those people?” Holly had once been the director of the Central Intelligence Agency, and she knew them well.

“Well, yes, I trust them. Sort of.”

“You’re hopeless,” she said. “See you later.” She hung up.

Stone hung up, too, and the phone rang again almost immediately. “Hello?”

“It’s Dino. Dinner tonight? Viv is traveling again.” Dino was Dino Bacchetti, Stone’s former partner on the NYPD and now the police commissioner of New York City.

“Can’t. Holly’s on her way in for the evening.”

“What, I’m not allowed to see Holly now?”

“She wants us to dine alone. She needs advice about something.”

Dino made a snorting noise. “Advice? From you?”

“I give very good advice,” Stone said. “My friends’ lives would be so richer, fuller, and happier if they would just take it.”

“You’re delusional,” Dino said. “Tomorrow night?”

“Sure.”

“Patroon, at seven?”

“Sure.”

Dino hung up.

Stone was at his desk at noon, waiting for Holly to arrive. Joan Robertson, his secretary, buzzed him.

“Yes?”

“Some woman claiming to be the secretary of state is on one. Shall I tell her to buzz off?”

“You know very well who that is,” Stone said, pushing the button. “Where are you, Holly?”

“Out of the chopper and into the car. Since I spoke with you earlier I’ve been saddled with three pre-campaign chores that I have to take care of this afternoon. May I keep your car—and Fred?”

“You may. What time to you expect to finally land here?”

“By six, probably, which means maybe.”

“I’ll look for you when I see you coming.”

“Great, bye.” She hung up.

Stone called Helene, his housekeeper/cook and ordered dinner for seven o’clock, probably, perhaps later.

Helene understood. “It’s moussaka; I can serve whenever.”

“Good.” Stone hung up and tried to find some work to do.

At seven-thirty, Holly called. “I’m on the way, there in ten.” She hung up.

Stone called Helene and alerted her, then went up to his study to wait.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, Fred delivered her to the study, then took her luggage up to the master suite.

Stone and Holly wrapped themselves around each other and kissed noisily. She finally broke away. “Bourbon, now,” she said breathlessly.

Stone poured them both one, and they settled onto the sofa before the fireplace, where a cheery blaze burned.

“Why don’t we just down these drinks, strip off, and fuck each other’s brains out right now?” Holly asked.