Chapters (75)
- Cover
- Contents
- Dedication
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- Acknowledgments
- “We Are Very Different People”:Stuart Woods on Stone Barrington
- Stone Barrington: The First Five
- About the Author
- Praise for Stuart Woods and
- Books by Stuart Woods
- Credits
- About the Publisher
The name registered, and it brought Stone back to the problem at hand. What the hell, he thought, I’m not getting anywhere on my own. He fished Eduardo Bianchi’s card from his wallet and dialed a phone number. The ringing stopped, and he heard a beep, no message.
“This is Stone Barrington,” he said. “I can be reached at the Carlyle Hotel, 744-1600. I’m registered as Elijah Stone, Room 1550.” He hung up. Was this the first step on the road to perdition?
36
NOW STONE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH his day. He couldn’t go home safely, and the Connecticut house still had no furniture. He’d already read the Times; the Wall Street Journal bored him; he wasn’t about to watch soap operas; and there, were no good movies on TV. He got up and walked around; he was stiff and sore from his experience of the night before. He picked up the phone and dialed the concierge.
“Yes, Mr. Stone?”
“I wonder if you could arrange a massage for me in my suite?”
“Of course; what time?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Male or female?”
“Female.”
“Swedish or Japanese?”
“Swedish.”
“Please hold for a moment; I’ll check availability.” He came back after a moment. “Sheila will be with you in an hour.”
“Thank you.” Stone hung up, watched two episodes of This Old House on television, then went to the bedroom, got undressed, and put on a robe. Shortly, there was a knock on the door, and a pretty girl came into the suite and set up a massage table in the bedroom.
“Let’s start you facedown,” she said.
Stone slipped out of the robe and lay on the table; she draped a small towel over his buttocks.
“Oh, you’ve got some cuts on your back,” she said.
“An accident; can you work around them?”
“Sure; let me know if I hurt you.”
She began kneading his back, and Stone gave himself to the experience. Soon, he was in a light sleep. Then the doorbell rang. “Would you get that, please?” he asked. “It’s probably the maid; I forgot to put out the DO NOT DISTURB Sign.”
“Sure; I’ll be right back.” She left the bedroom.
Stone heard the door open and some whispering; then the door closed, and she came back. “Did you put out the sign?”
“Uh-huh,” she said, then began rubbing his back.