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  “So we were both precocious.”

  “And will be again,” Stone said. He waved at a waiter. “Check, please!”

  31

  There was sunlight filtering through the shutters in Stone’s bedroom when he looked over and found Felicity next to him. Their hips were touching, and she had a wisp of her red hair across her face. Gingerly, he brushed it away, and she opened her eyes.

  “My goodness,” she said, turning toward him. “How long it’s been since I awoke to find a man in my bed!”

  “In actual fact,” Stone said, “you awoke to find yourself in a man’s bed.”

  “Even better,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek and kissing him lightly.

  “More, please,” he said, and they did it again. From there it was but a short hop to an embrace and a joining of flesh.

  When they had finished and lay panting in each other’s arms, Felicity said, “What will your sleeping arrangements be at the hotel?”

  “I’ll be staying in a four-bedroom cottage with its own garden and pool that was part of the original deal for the building of the hotel. The master bedroom, where I will sleep, has a private, walled patio off the back garden, to which I will give you a key, so that you may steal in and out at will.”

  “What a lovely arrangement,” she said.

  “Of course, you may encounter a Secret Service agent or two along the way, since we’re next door to the presidential cottage, but they are very discreet people.”

  She sighed. “From what you’ve told me, I won’t be able to move without rubbing elbows with either the Secret Service, the Mexican protective detail, a team of Strategic Services guards, or all of the above.”

  “That’s about the size of it, but as long as you don’t come to me naked, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “I suppose I can stand to wait until I’m in your bedroom before disrobing.”

  “A good policy. How many other Brits will be in residence?”

  “I’m the only one, except for a few private citizens and one journalist,” she said. “I’m meant to be consulting with Kate Lee on some security matters, among them the signals you and I talked about last night.”

  “I’m reliably informed that Kate already knows about the signal traffic. The NSA figure in charge of all that, Scott Hipp, is politically connected, and he just loves sending little items like that to the White House.”

  “To which Kate is well connected,” Felicity said. “I wonder what it would be like if I were married to the prime minister.”

  “Does he interest you?”

  “Oh, no, I was just talking about having that connection. I wonder if Kate and her husband talk about work in bed.”

  “You’ve got me there,” Stone said. “Would you like some breakfast?”

  “May I have a full English breakfast?” she asked. “Eggs over easy, sausage, bacon, grilled tomato, tomato juice, and very strong coffee?”

  Stone picked up the phone, buzzed Helene in the kitchen, and placed their orders.

  “May I have a bath while we’re waiting?” Felicity asked.

  “Of course. May I watch?”

  “That might get dangerous,” she said, getting out of bed and walking across the bedroom to her bath. “I won’t be long.”

  Stone’s phone rang. He looked at his watch: seven-thirty. Who the hell? He picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “It’s Mike.”

  “Good morning, Mike. You’re an early riser.”

  “I’m getting reports that someone has completed the computer work that High Cotton’s Mr. Chang began, and that it’s in use.”

  “Anything specific?”

  “Someone called Algernon is communicating with the three men in a shoe or a boat, or whatever they’re in.”

  “What sort of communications?”

  “They’re meeting-we don’t know where.”

  “This is the first we’ve heard of an Algernon, isn’t it?”

  “It is. It sounds as though he’s running the three, and I’ll bet he’s hot off a plane from the Middle East.”

  “Maybe you should speak with the Secret Service about this.”

  “I have already done so, directly to Rifkin, who’s the AIC at The Arrington. Are you still on schedule to arrive tomorrow?”

  “We’re wheels up at ten o’clock Teterboro tomorrow morning.”

  “Good.”

  “Oh, one other thing,” Stone said. “MI-6 is picking up the same traffic NSA is.”

  “And you know this because?”

  “I had… dinner with Felicity Devonshire last night.”

  “Ah, Felicity!”

  “She’s flying out with us to take a meeting with Kate Lee.”

  “I wonder if she knows anything else of interest to us.”

  “I wonder, too. I’ll press her on that subject.”

  “Never hurts to triangulate on something like this.”

  “I guess not.” The bell rang that signaled that the dumbwaiter was on the way up from the kitchen. “I gotta run,” Stone said.

  “I’ll see you at the hotel.” Mike hung up.

  Felicity came out of the bathroom in a terry robe with a towel around her hair. “I smell sausage,” she said.

  Stone took the tray from the dumbwaiter, set it on the bed, and whisked away the covers.

  “This is the best hotel I know,” Felicity said, picking up a sausage with her fingers and biting into it.

  “Mike Freeman just called,” Stone said. “There’s further news of Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.”

  “Do tell.”

  Stone told her about the defection of Chang from High Cotton and the work he did in Palo Alto. “His work has now been completed, and someone code-named Algernon is communicating with the trio, setting up a meeting. Mike thinks Algernon may have arrived in California to run the trio.”

  “I think that’s a sensible conclusion to draw,” she said. “I’ll check with my people this morning to see if they have anything new to add.”

  “We would all appreciate that,” Stone said.

  She set the plate of eggs and bacon in her lap and started to work on it. “One way we might be able to help is to go back into our files and see if we’ve ever had an Algernon operating anywhere.”

  “Excellent idea. If we knew who he was it might be easier to track them all down.”

  “I think we can guess where they’re heading,” Felicity said.

  32

  When Hamish went to the kitchen for breakfast, Mo was looking very nervous. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing is wrong, it’s just that the material has arrived, and I’m excited. The doctor has been working most of the night.”

  Hamish went into the dining room where Dr. Kharl was working and found him on his knees before the open Vuitton trunk, tightening some screws. He was wearing heavy gloves.

  The doctor looked up. “Welcome back,” he said.

  “Is it finished?” he asked.

  “All done, except for completing the three small devices and what you have to do.”

  “I?”

  “Or whoever will activate the device,” Kharl said. He stood up and retrieved an object resting on top of the trunk. It was made of metal and was a flat plate about half an inch thick, with a teat-shaped closed tube attached to its bottom. “Some of the material is in here,” Kharl said, tapping the teat. He unscrewed the top of the plate. “There is a layer of plastique here, with a threaded hole on top that will admit a detonator.” He dropped the teat end into the tube and screwed it tightly into place, then screwed a small metal tube containing the igniter into the top. “Then close this panel”-he pointed-“insert this key”-he held up one like the ones he had seen for the smaller devices-“then tap into the keypad the elapsed time to ignition, up to ten hours, then turn the key to the right. When the digital clock reaches zero, the blasting cap will set off the plastique, which will fire the tube containing a bullet of enriched uranium into the fissionable mat
erial at the bottom of the trunk, creating what is known as a critical mass. You must be many, many miles away by that time.”

  Hamish unrolled a map of Los Angeles and pointed to The Arrington’s location with a draftsman’s compass. “What sort of damage can we expect from this device?”

  Kharl took the compass and placed it on the scale at the bottom of the map, adjusting it to the correct distance. “Each kiloton of explosive force will decimate everything inside a radius of one nautical mile, or about six thousand feet. This device has an explosive power of about two and a half kilotons, and thus, a destructive range of about two and a half nautical miles, or a little over three statute miles.” Kharl placed the point of the compass on The Arrington’s location and drew a circle around it.

  “Now, you see what lies in the path of complete destruction: inside the circle are all of the Bel-Air neighborhood and all of Beverly Hills, to the edges of West Hollywood. To the west, much of the blast will be contained by the Santa Monica Mountains, but there are dense residential neighborhoods within the circle. To the south, complete destruction reaches to about Santa Monica Boulevard, including practically the entire campus of UCLA, and much of Centurion Studios, where movies are made. To the north the mountains will absorb much of the blast, but the dams of both the Stone Canyon upper and lower reservoirs will be breached, allowing something like three and a half billion gallons of water to rush down the mountainside. This will, of course, create its own fairly narrow path of destruction, but it will wash an enormous amount of debris far past Santa Monica Boulevard. You get two catastrophes for the price of one!” Kharl giggled at the thought. “Of course, there will be terrible damage and fires well beyond the three-and-a-half-mile circle of complete destruction, not to mention the deaths caused by radiation poisoning. It will take Los Angeles decades to recover.”

  Hamish’s breath was taken away for a moment; he had not fully comprehended what the device would do.

  “Now,” Kharl said, “do you understand what you must do?”

  Hamish repeated the process to the doctor. “Is that correct?”

  “It is perfectly correct,” the doctor said. “You may stop the process if you insert the key and turn it to the left.” Kharl looked at his wristwatch. “My flight to Dubai departs San Francisco International in three and a half hours,” he said. “I must leave immediately.” He closed the trunk, locked it, and handed the key to Hamish.

  Mo spoke from the doorway. “There is a car waiting downstairs to drive you to the airport, Doctor. Come, I’ll take your luggage.”

  Kharl laid his gloves on the table. “You will not need these,” he said. “I will leave it to you to dispose of them.” He shook Hamish’s hand, then Mo’s, then followed Mo and his suitcase out of the apartment.

  Hamish put both keys into his pocket and went to breakfast. He was eating his muffin when Mo came back into the flat. Jasmine came out of her room and joined them at the table.

  “The doctor is on his way,” Mo said. “I am uncertain why you allowed him to go.”

  “I let him go because we may need him again,” Hamish said, sipping his coffee. “There are plans for London being discussed.”

  When they had eaten, they stacked the three small cases onto a hand truck, along with the two Vuitton cases holding Hamish’s clothes, wheeled them downstairs to the building’s garage, and stowed them in a rented van, then went back for the trunk. Mo tilted it and got the hand truck under it. “It’s surprisingly light, considering its contents,” he said.

  “Lightweight was one of my specifications,” Hamish replied. “The metal parts are of aluminum and titanium-only the material at the bottom is heavy.” They took it down in the elevator, muscled the trunk into the van, then Jasmine got behind the wheel, and Hamish got into the passenger seat and rolled down the window. “Our work is done here,” he said to Mo. “Pack your things into my empty cases, dispose of your canvas luggage, and get your flight back to London.” They shook hands, and Jasmine drove out of the garage.

  The Cessna Caravan, a hefty aircraft often used as a flying truck, with fixed landing gear and a single, turboprop engine, was parked on a private ramp at San Jose airport when they arrived. With the help of the pilot, Hamish and Jasmine got all the luggage, including the trunk, loaded into the interior. The pilot was around thirty, with a Mediterranean look about him. “My name is Habib,” he said.

  Hamish shook his hand. “Have you filed your flight plan?”

  “I have, and we are fueled. We can depart immediately,” Habib replied.

  “Then let’s go.” Hamish embraced Jasmine, then climbed into the copilot’s seat of the airplane and watched carefully as Habib started his engine and ran through his checklists. The airplane had the same Garmin avionics as the Citation Mustang he was accustomed to flying, and he knew he could fly this one if he had to. Habib radioed the tower for his clearance and permission to taxi, and shortly, they were climbing out of San Jose toward the Pacific. At a thousand feet of altitude, Habib switched on the autopilot, and the airplane began to fly its flight plan. Since the aircraft was not pressurized, Habib leveled off at eleven thousand feet and set cruise power.

  Three hours later they set down at Santa Monica and, getting instructions from ground control, taxied to the western end of the airfield, around a row of hangars to one facing south. The doors were open, and three men stood outside. Habib shut down the engine, and, without a word, the three unloaded the luggage, stowed it in the hangar, then helped the pilot back the aircraft into the hangar, where Hamish took the pilot aside.

  “Here is one-third of your money and some extra for cab fare and a motel room,” Hamish said, handing him a thick envelope. “You will receive the other two-thirds when we return north.” He gave the man a cell phone. “You are to make no calls on this phone,” he said. “I will call you at the appropriate time and tell you when our departure will be. Go to the FBO and ask them to recommend a motel nearby, then take a taxi there. Do not go anywhere out of cell phone range. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” Habib said. “I will await your call.” He let himself out of the hangar and left.

  “Now, gentlemen,” Hamish said to the others, “we finally meet face-to-face. You have all done well in seeking and finding employment at The Arrington, but we have much more work to do, so I will give you further instructions.” He handed each of them a small case and told them to open it, then he handed each of them a key and instructed them on how to operate the device. “Remember, you will have thirty minutes to clear the area after turning the key to the right. Take the key with you and dispose of it.

  “Hans, after I am situated in the hotel, I will call you, and you will return here in one of the Porsche Cayennes operated by the hotel and load the trunk into it. It will fit if you put the rear seats down. Tell the security people on departing the hotel that you are going for a guest’s luggage, then they will be expecting you when you return with it. If anyone wishes to open it, tell them you do not have the key, then bring it to the suite I occupy, which will be on the south side of the grounds, overlooking the amphitheater. I will be there to receive it. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Hans said.

  “I will e-mail each of you the time for activating the devices. Please turn the key at exactly that time, then leave the hotel.” He handed each of them an envelope. “These are your instructions on leaving the hotel. Do not return to your homes. Follow the instructions exactly. Do not open the envelopes until you are well clear of The Arrington’s grounds. Clear?”

  The three nodded.

  “Any questions?”

  The three shook their heads.

  “Hans, have you brought a hotel vehicle?”

  “Yes, it is outside.”

  “Get my two cases into it, and we’ll go. You others, help him get the car around to the hangar and loaded.”

  The three went outside with the luggage. Hamish went to one of the devices, opened the case, located a small panel, and
with a fingernail, flipped down the first dip switch. With the altered dip switch, he handed Rick the case. “This one’s yours.” The three came back and collected their small cases.

  Hamish locked the hangar and gave Hans the key, then they got into the car. “Don’t speed, don’t attract attention. You have simply picked up a hotel guest at the Santa Monica Airport, should anyone ask.”

  Hans nodded and drove out of the airport, headed for Bel-Air and The Arrington.

  33

  Everyone’s luggage was loaded into Stone’s and Dino’s cars, and they departed for Teterboro. The big Gulfstream 550 was parked outside the Jet Aviation terminal, and the crew supervised the loading of the luggage. Shortly, everyone was seated, and the big cabin gave everyone room for comfort.

  The stewardess checked their seat belts and gave them the lecture about the oxygen masks and the life jackets, then the engines were started and shortly, the airplane began to roll. Runway One was active and their taxi was short. Stone watched as the pilot shoved the throttles forward, and they roared down the runway. For a while they were vectored at low altitude by ATC, until they were clear of the approaches to Newark Airport, then the aircraft climbed to its cruising altitude, and the stewardess brought everyone mimosas, straight orange juice for the kids.

  Stone went forward to the cockpit. “Mind if I ride jump seat for a while?” he asked the pilot.

  “Sure, make yourself at home. Do you fly?”

  Stone sat down and buckled his seat belt. “Yes, I fly a Citation Mustang. I just wanted to see what you have in the way of avionics that I don’t have.”

  The pilot gave him a tour of the G-550’s avionics suite. “What do we have that you don’t have?”

  “Not much, I’m glad to say.”

  Stone went back to the cabin and sat next to Felicity, who was very quiet. “Are you troubled about something?” he asked.

  She shook her head but said nothing.

  “Come on, Felicity, you’re not yourself. What’s bothering you?”