“Of course,” she said, responding to his action. She concentrated her mind until they had both reached the peak of their desire and then descended rapidly.

“Now,” she said, tucking her head into his shoulder, “where were we?”

“Lance’s motives,” Stone replied, still panting.

“Which are always obscure?”

“Always. I think it’s the nature of his work that causes him not to want anyone to know all of what he is thinking at any given moment.”

“What do you think he was thinking?” she asked.

“First,” Stone said, “I think he wanted to give Felicity the ammunition she might need to deal with the brigadier.”

“Obviously. And beyond that?”

“Beyond that is the no-man’s-land of Lance’s consciousness.”

“I think Lance knows the brigadier much better than he has admitted to us,” she said.

“That’s an interesting observation,” Stone admitted.

“After all,” Rose said, “he did offer to dismember the man.”

“I think that was most probably metaphorical.”

“Do you think Lance incapable of cutting someone into pieces?”

“Personally? Probably not. I do think him capable of ordering someone else to do it, though in the subtlest sort of way.”

“So do I,” Rose replied.

“On such short acquaintance?”

“I’m rather good at making accurate assumptions about people on short acquaintance,” she said. “You, for instance.”

“How so?”

“I learned a good deal about you from the way you handled Fife-Simpson while flat on your back in a hospital bed.”

“I confess, I don’t like being pushed around.”

“Hardly anyone does, but you engaged him in a way he was unaccustomed to, and set him back on his heels. That requires character. But you didn’t engage him physically.”

“Well, I thought I had a broken foot,” Stone said.

Rose laughed. “Discretion is a part of character, too, as well as valor.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“Tell me, have you often engaged in physicality?”

“Didn’t we just do that?”

“I was referring to fighting.”

“I was a police officer for many years, and as such, I had to be ready to meet physical resistance. People don’t like being handcuffed and stuffed in the back of a police car, and they often resist.”

“How did you handle that?”

“As quickly as possible. I learned early on that, in a fight, the first blow is very important. Properly struck, it discourages further argument.”

“That’s good advice,” she said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Are you planning to fight someone?”

“Not at the moment, but you never know.”

“I’ll tread carefully around you, then.”

“Not too carefully, please.”

And a moment later, they were back at it.

—

Lance finished a late lunch, got out his cell phone, tapped in the code to scramble the signal, and called CIA headquarters.

“Meg Tillman,” a husky voice said.

“Is our guest still with us?”

“He is, and bored rigid, I should think. He plans to drive back to D.C. at midday.”