“Let’s see, what might be suitable? Head of the National Security Agency? Perhaps even secretary of state?”

“That’s very flattering, Stone,” Lance said. He got to his feet and prepared to mount his horse.

“Think about it, and we’ll talk later.” He swung into the saddle, and Stone remounted and followed him.

—

In the late afternoon, as Stone sat in the library with his book, his cell phone rang. “Yes?”

“Is that the lord of the manor speaking?” she asked.

“Ah, Holly,” he said, feeling a wave of warmth.

“I’m absolutely certain,” she said, “that I told you there’d be an opportunity for us to rendezvous in England around now.”

“Of course you did. I haven’t forgotten. When?”

“I’ll be popping over this weekend, and I expect I can manage a week or two between London and your Windward Hall.”

“How will you be traveling?” he asked. “I mean, in what sort of aircraft?”

“Well, I don’t rate Air Force One, but it will probably be a very nice Gulfstream 500 that various members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff have managed to corral for themselves.”

“In that case, they can dump you right into my backyard.”

“I have to jump?”

“No, there’s a very nice seven-thousand-foot airstrip on my property, with GPS approaches. They can land, boot you and your luggage out, and take off again, unhindered, then fly to wherever they were going in the first place. Got a pencil?”

“Always.”

He gave her the coordinates and frequencies for landing. “Pass that on to your pilots before you take off.”

“That sounds delightful. I’ll fly over tomorrow, then a car will whisk me to London on Sunday night.”

“Then back here when you’re done in London.”

“Of course.”

“Request an early-morning departure—that will get you here in daylight. And even if it doesn’t, there’s a beacon and runway lighting, pilot-operated on the common frequency.”

“Duly noted. What clothes will I need?”

“Oh, a couple of ball gowns and your workout gear, I suppose. Don’t forget your riding togs. I will introduce you to some horses. We’ll have at least one black tie event, maybe two, so come equipped.”

“I can do that.”

“I’d suggest you leave your London gear on the airplane and have them deliver it to your hotel. Where are you staying?”

“In the Agency’s suite at the Connaught. Lance was helpful.”

“Speaking of Lance, I’ll want to talk to you about him.”

“Give me a hint?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, all right.”

“Call me at this number on your satphone when you’re fifteen minutes from touchdown, and I’ll meet you at the airstrip.”

“Wonderful. See you then.”

33

The morning after his meeting with the First Sea Lord, Brigadier Fife-Simpson had another phone call.

“Hello?”

“This that Brigadier Fife-Simpson?” a woman asked.

“It is.”