The car drove away, turning this way and that. Stone lay still, knowing that he had no chance until the car stopped and they took him out. Then he would give them the fight of their lives.

Twenty minutes later, the car came to a halt; Stone was picked up and bodily tossed into the gutter. As he started to rise, the paper bag with his belongings hit him in the back of the head. By the time he got to his feet, the car had turned a corner and was gone. People looked at him oddly as he dusted himself off and returned his belongings to his pockets. He looked around. The Hayward shop was across the street; he was back where he had been abducted.

He walked across the street and into Hayward’s. Doug Hayward rose from a leather sofa, and a small dog began to bark at Stone.

“Shut up, Bert,” Hayward said. “Come on back, Stone; we’re ready for you.”

Stone silently followed Hayward to the rear of the shop and the dressing room, where he removed his jacket.

“Stone,” Hayward said, “are you aware that you have a footprint on the back of your shirt collar?”

29

STONE LET HIMSELF INTO HIS SUITE and got out the satellite telephone. He pressed a speed-dial button and waited.

“Yes?”

“I have to see you now.”

“Can’t do it; how about tomorrow?”

“I’ll be in New York tomorrow, if I don’t see you now.”

A brief silence. “Where?”

“The lounge at the Connaught will do. Ten minutes.”

“All right.” He rang off.

Bartholomew/Hedger bustled into the lounge and sat down next to Stone, who was sipping a cup of tea.

“Some tea?” Stone asked.

“What is it?”

“Earl Grey.”

Hedger made a digusted noise and raised a finger to a waiter. “Bring me a pot of English Breakfast,” he said.

Stone waited while the tea was brought.

“All right, what?” Hedger said.

“Earlier today, I was grabbed by two men, stuffed into the back of a car, driven to an unknown location, stripped, searched, and interrogated by three men. By one man, really; the other two just sat and listened.”

Hedger stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Didn’t you hear anything I said? I want an explanation.”

“Why do you think I know anything about it?”

“I believe you are a member of a group who indulges in such activities; you were my first thought, even though they asked me about you.”

Hedger held up a hand. “What did they want to know about me?”

“Whatever I knew; your name, for instance.”

“Did you tell them?”

“No.”

“If they didn’t know my name, how did they ask about me?”

“They asked about John Bartholomew. Obviously, they didn’t get the joke. They wanted to know Bartholomew’s real name.”

“What did you tell them?”