There was a scraping noise from the table in front of him, and Stone realized that the contents of his pockets were on the table. A hand picked up the satellite telephone and held it in the light for Stone to see.

“What is this?”

“It’s a telephone.”

“What kind of telephone?”

“A cellphone, like any other.” Stone heard beeps as a number was tapped into the phone. A moment later, a phone rang in another room. The phone was returned to the table.

“Describe John Bartholomew.”

“Six feet three or four, heavyset, dark hair going gray, sixtyish.”

“Nationality?”

“American, as far as I know.”

“Why do you carry a false passport?” A hand held it in the light.

“If it’s false, then they’re handing out false documents at the passport office in the London embassy of the United States of America. If you’ll check the date of issue, you’ll see I got it last week.”

There was some whispering among the three men, then the smooth voice spoke again. If you have left Mr. Bartholomew’s employ, why do you remain in Britain?”

“Tourism.”

“Mr. Barrington, you are trying my patience again.”

“A woman, as well.”

“What woman?”

“Sarah Buckminster. Don’t you read the papers?”

“You are interested in her?”

“Yes.”

“In what way?”

“Miss Buckminster and I lived together in New York. We have renewed our acquaintance.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, ah.”

“Miss Buckminster has recently become very rich.”

“Ah, you do read the papers.”

“Are you interested in her money?”

“What do you think?”

“Ah.”

“If you say so.”

“Mr. Barrington, I can’t say that I like your attitude.”

“I can’t say that I like being abducted on a public street, imprisoned, and interrogated by a group of people who have read too many bad novels.”

“Mr. Barrington, this is your final opportunity to tell us what we want to know.”

“Have I denied you anything so far? I have no idea what you want to know.”

“According to your papers, you were once a policeman.”

“That’s correct.”

“Surely you conducted interrogations.”

“Many times.”

“Didn’t you always find out what you wanted to know?”

“No, I didn’t; unlike you, I was constrained by the law.”

“We are constrained by nothing.”

“No kidding.”

The man made a motion with his hand; one of the two thugs stepped forward, swept Stone’s belongings into a paper bag, and stepped back.

“Get rid of him,” the smooth voice said.

Stone did not like the sound of that. Before he could move, the two men were on him, one at each arm, dragging him back down the series of hallways, outside, and into the car. Once again, he was facedown on the floor of the limousine, with a foot on his neck.