“Because he doesn’t trust you, dummy; you work for Hedger, don’t you? He’d like to have Hedger shitting in a bucket somewhere and you for an accessory. Jones and his buddy Cricket were apparently two of Throckmorton’s favorite people.”

“Jesus, I’m never going to get out of this country,” Stone said.

“That’s a possibility,” Dino agreed. “What we’ve got to do is find out what’s going on here, so we can tell Throckmorton, and then he can lock up the perpetrators, except for you.”

“Hedger is my client; I can’t help lock him up.”

“What’s the matter, don’t you enjoy putting away bad guys anymore? Where’s the cop in you?”

“He’s still there, but so is the lawyer.”

Dino sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

42

DINO WENT TO GET DRESSED, AND Stone shaved and showered. He was tying his tie when the satellite phone rang.

“It’s Hedger.”

“Good morning.”

“You said you’d have a list of the people at table twelve.”

“Right, let me get it.” Stone retrieved the list, the only fruit of his aborted dinner with Arrington. “Want me to read you the names?”

“Yes.”

Stone did so.

“It’s the Israeli cultural attaché,” Hedger said.

“Why do you think so?”

“Because the governments of Sweden, Australia, Germany, and Belgium do not usually participate in kidnapping innocent Americans off the streets of London. But I wouldn’t put it past the Israelis. What’s his name?”

Stone consulted the list. “David Beth Alachmy.”

“Holy shit.”

“Do you know him?”

“Just of him; he’s very smart, very tough. And his very presence in London means that he’s the new chief of station for the Mossad, the Israeli intelligence service. He’s so new in town that my people didn’t know yet.”

“Then the two ‘Greeks’ were Israelis?”

“Probably. You said you had a contact in the London police; why don’t you ask him?”

“He and I are not on cordial terms at the moment.”

“Why not?”

“He thinks I was involved in the murder of the two Israelis.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Because one of them was wearing my raincoat.”

“How the hell—”

“I took off the raincoat when I was doing my little survey of Lance Cabot’s house, and apparently when I left, I picked up the wrong coat. The murderer dressed one of the two corpses in mine.”

“Oh, swell, now you’ve come to the attention of the local police.”

“You could say that.”

“That greatly reduces your value to me.”

“You expect me to feel guilty about that? Let me remind you that I came to their attention while trying to get information for you.”

“In the old days, we’d have just shot you; as it is, I’ll have to fire you.”

“As you wish—you’ll recall that I’ve already resigned once.”