Todd wisely kept his mouth shut.

Lance stared out the window and smiled a little.

“What are you thinking?” Holly asked.

“I was just thinking that this would make a wonderful story for my memoirs, but the Agency’s censors would never allow it to be published.”

Stone was at his desk in the late morning when Joan buzzed him. “There’s a gentleman to see you,” she said. “He won’t give his name, but he says you know him.”

“Oh, what the hell,” Stone said. “It’s a slow morning; send him in.”

A man Stone had never seen before appeared in his office doorway. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, was dressed in a well-tailored suit, and wore a dark mustache and goatee and heavy, horn-rimmed glasses.

Stone stood up as the man walked toward him with his hand out. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he said.

The man laughed and took a chair. “I am Erwin Gelbhardt,” he said, “but you can call me Pablo.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Stone stared at the man for a moment, got it, then laughed, too. “You must have had an interesting morning,” he said.

Pablo gave him an account of his movements since departing the C-17, then he held up a hand. “Before we continue this conversation, I would like to retain you as my attorney.”

“For what purpose?” Stone asked.

“To conduct negotiations with the people who so kindly transported me to this country. I wish to reside again in this country without fear of kidnapping and what the loony right wing like to call ‘enhanced interrogation.’ ”

“What have you to offer them?” Stone asked.

“Will you represent me?”

Stone thought about that for a moment. There was the matter of his consultant’s contract with the Agency, but since he was not currently employed by them, he figured he could tap-dance his way around that.

“If, once I’ve heard your story, I can believe that your objective has a good possibility of coming to fruition, then yes, I’ll represent you. Otherwise, we’d just be talking about a plea bargain.”

“What will your retainer be?” Pablo asked.

“One hundred thousand dollars,” Stone replied without hesitation, “payable in advance from a legal source, against an hourly rate of seven hundred dollars, plus expenses.”

“Agreed,” Pablo replied. He took an alligator-bound checkbook from his inside coat pocket and began to write. “This is drawn on a New York City bank account containing only legally derived funds,” he said, handing the check to Stone.

Stone buzzed Joan. “Please type up a representation agreement,” he said. “A retainer of one hundred thousand dollars, against seven hundred dollars an hour.” He hung up the phone and looked at the check. “How is it you have funds in the U.S. that have not been attached by the IRS?”

“I settled with the IRS years ago,” Pablo replied, “and I’ve filed a proper return every year since then.”

Stone smiled. “That’s very good news,” he said, “and, if it’s true, it’s going to make our negotiating position much better.”