“Right,” Viv said. “If you start questioning her too closely, she’ll get suspicious and clam up. Just let her talk.”

“What else do I want to know about her?”

“Anything she tells you is likely to be a lie,” Viv said. “But I have to tell you, she doesn’t sound like a well-trained intelligence agent.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She’s already blithely told you things you could easily check out and disprove. A real pro would have a legend prepared that’s all backed up.”

“You could try getting her prints,” Dino said, “on a wineglass, or something. Where are you going for dinner?”

“Felicity wants me to order from room service.”

“Do what Felicity says,” Dino said.

“If the room is wired, just let the conversation flow, and Felicity will have it on tape.”

“Right,” Stone said.

16

Stone drove the Porsche 911 up to London, figuring the car needed the exercise. He made it to the Connaught by four PM without getting arrested and turned the car over to the doorman for parking.

The MI-6 suite was better than he had expected; the rooms were large and well-decorated. Once the bellman had deposited his luggage and left, Stone stood in the middle of the living room and said loudly, “This is Barrington. I’m here.”

A moment later his cell phone rang. “Yes?”

“Message received,” a woman’s voice said. “Good luck.”

Getting lucky was what Stone had in mind. And now, for the first time, he considered that he and Rose would be performing for an audience, if only via audio. He tried to put it out of his mind.

—

Shortly after five o’clock his phone rang. “Hello?”

A man said, “Your companion is on her way up.”

“Thank you.” He hung up and waited. A moment later there was a rap on the door and he opened it to find Rose standing there, holding a small duffel.

“Hi, there,” she said, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him. “I declined the offer of a bellman,” she said, pushing him inside and hipping the door shut. “I didn’t want any witnesses.” She backed him to the bed, and they were undressed and under the covers shortly.

Stone dismissed any thought of aural witnesses and turned his attention to gratifying her in every way he could think of. Finally, they were lying in each other’s arms, spent and sweating.

“I didn’t offer you a drink,” Stone said.

“I didn’t give you time.”

“Would you like one now?”

“Yes, please.” She released him; he went to the bar and poured them each one.

She plumped up their pillows and arranged them so that they could sit up. “That was spectacular,” she said. “As always.”

“It certainly was,” Stone said softly.

“It’s a pity we don’t have a video for later viewing,” she said.

“Negative,” Stone replied. “The only recording should be in our memories.”