Hush-Hush Page 4

  “I hope they haven’t installed cameras,” Viv said wryly.

  * * *

  —

  Back at the house, they walked around and checked out things. “All seems well,” Stone said.

  “If all wasn’t well, my people would still be here, rummaging around.”

  “And planting cameras?”

  “Let’s go upstairs and check,” she said.

  Rocky stood in the center of the master suite and looked around. “Nothing here that I can see.”

  “Is it possible that there is something here that you can’t see?”

  Rocky produced her cell phone and tapped on an app. “Nothing here,” she replied.

  “I want an app like that,” Stone said.

  “I’ll set up your phone for that tomorrow,” Rocky said.

  “Will you stay the night?”

  “Is there somewhere a girl can rinse out a few things?”

  “There’s a mini-combo washer/dryer in a cupboard in your dressing room, and a pop-out ironing board, too. But my recollection is that all you have to rinse out is a thong.”

  She smiled. “I’d like to rinse out my blouse, too,” she said, starting to unbutton.

  Stone helped as much as he could.

  8

  Stone and Rocky were reading the Times the following morning when his cell phone rang, caller unknown. “Yes, Lance?” Stone said.

  “I’m the only person who blocks calls, right?”

  “To this number, yes.”

  “May I speak to Rocky, please?”

  “Just a minute, I’ll have to do a search for her.”

  “Just turn your head to the right and say, ‘It’s for you.’”

  Stone handed the phone to Rocky.

  She pressed the speaker button. “Yes, Director?”

  “Are you enjoying your work?” Lance asked.

  “Always, sir.”

  “I think that, given recent events, you should perhaps spend a good deal more time in Mr. Barrington’s company.”

  “That’s okay with Mr. Barrington,” Stone said.

  “No one cares, Stone. Rocky, message received?”

  “Received and understood, sir. You can count on me.” They hung up.

  “You know Lance better than you admitted to Viv, don’t you?” Stone asked her.

  “I usually lie to people who are interrogating me. It’s part of my training.”

  “What part?”

  “Lying 101,” she replied.

  “Have you been lying to me?”

  “About what?”

  “Anything.”

  “No, you haven’t interrogated me, so it hasn’t been necessary.”

  “But you would lie to me, if you thought it necessary.”

  “Of course not,” she replied. “That would be a violation of our personal relationship.”

  “Are you lying to me now?”

  “Maybe.”

  “How can I tell?”

  “You can’t. I’m trained, remember?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t lie to me—ever.”

  “And I’d rather you didn’t make it necessary for me to lie to you.”

  “Forget it.”

  “I’ll try, but that may be a lie.”

  “So you won’t forget it?”

  “I don’t forget much.”

  “Try.”

  “Forgetting is an involuntary act.”

  “This is a losing game, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Probably.”

  He placed his hand in a tender place and wiggled his fingers. “Do you like this?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Is that a lie?”

  “Probably not.”

  “When can I trust you not to lie?”

  “When I’m not lying.”

  “And when don’t you lie?”

  “At times like this,” she said, squeezing his fingertips and kissing him on the top of his head. “You know what I like about you?”

  “No, what?”

  “Your constant readiness.”

  “That’s flattering.”

  “No, it’s just a fact.” She pulled him on top of her. “And I’m not lying.”

  * * *

  —

  After lunch, Stone suggested a trip to Bloomingdale’s.

  “Why Bloomingdale’s?” Rocky asked.

  “Because I buy my boxer shorts there, and my stock’s elastic is beginning to fail.”

  “On all of them?”

  “Just the ones that I bought at the same time.”

  “Do I have to watch?”

  “No, you can mosey around other parts of the store while I decide between plaids and stripes.”

  Stone thought he would lose her as they passed through the cosmetics counters, but she stayed at his elbow, even while he was deciding between plaids and stripes. He gave the clerk his credit card and adjusted the small mirror used for fitting sunglasses, which were displayed nearby. “Rocky?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think Lance would have us followed at Bloomingdale’s?”

  “I wouldn’t think that Lance would care so much about your boxer shorts.”

  “I’m going to move over a foot or two; when I do, check the image in the mirror and tell me if you think the couple in neckties is following us. She’s pretending not to like the tie he’s chosen.” He moved over, and Rocky replaced him in front of the mirror.

  “Well?”

  “I think they very well could be following us,” she replied. “And if they are, I would tend to believe that Lance sent them.”

  “How certain is ‘very well could be’?”

  “Let’s say I’m quite certain about it.”

  “What about the couple makes you so sure?” he asked.

  “Well, for a start, I think she actually likes the necktie she’s complaining about.”

  “Really?”

  “Her heart isn’t in it. Wives are never iffy about these things.”

  “Any other reason you’re so sure?”

  “There is the fact that the woman and I were in the same class at the Farm,” she said, referring to Camp Peary, where CIA recruits undergo their initial training.

  “That reason makes an impression.”

  “I’m impressed, too, that you spotted them when I didn’t,” Rocky said. “How did you do that?”

  “I, too, thought her heart wasn’t in the argument over the tie.”

  “Let’s rumble them,” Rocky said. “Follow my lead.”

  Rocky turned around and fixed the couple with her gaze.

  “Betty!” she called out. “Did you see her jump at the sound of her name?” she asked Stone.

  “I did, but she’s ignoring you.”

  “Betty Swenson!” Rocky nearly shouted.

  This time the woman turned and regarded Rocky, her eyebrows up. “Why, Rocky,” she said, managing to sound surprised.

  “Let’s go,” Rocky said to Stone, then she walked toward the couple, while Stone trailed her.

  Rocky offered her hand to shake, and Betty took it. “You look just the same,” Rocky said.

  “You look even better,” Betty reposted.

  “Who’s this?” Rocky asked, turning to regard Betty’s companion.

  “This is my friend, Evan,” she replied.

  “Rocky Hardwick,” Rocky said, shaking his hand. “And this is my friend, Stone Barrington,” she said, “as if you didn’t know.”

  Betty looked Stone over and decided to shake his hand. “How do you do, Mr. Barrington? And, Rocky, how would I know?”

  “Because Lance told you. Stone, you see, is a senior adviser to Lance.”

  “Come to think of it, I beli
eve I’ve heard the name. And you’ll be glad to know, Stone, it wasn’t taken in vain.”

  “Whether I would be glad of that depends on who spoke it,” Stone replied.

  “Tricky, isn’t he?” Betty asked.

  “Fairly,” Rocky replied.

  “Only fairly?” Stone asked, looking hurt.

  “Don’t worry, it’s Betty who’s being tricky. Tell me, Betty, why would Lance assign someone I know to follow me?”

  “Perhaps he thought you wouldn’t blow me on sight,” Betty replied. “Or perhaps, it’s Stone we were asked to follow.”

  “Why would Lance want me followed?” Stone asked, innocently.

  “Let me put it this way,” Betty said, “we’re both armed, and there are two more of us you haven’t spotted yet. It was Stone who spotted us, Rocky, wasn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” Rocky replied. “We’re going to back off now and let you carry out your assignment.”

  “Oh, good,” Betty said, beaming. She shook both their hands, and the couple wandered off toward a cash register, with a fistful of neckties.

  “I don’t get it,” Stone said.

  “There’s already been one attempt on your life, Stone,” Rocky said. “Betty was right, I shouldn’t have blown her.” She took his hand. “Let’s go collect your boxer shorts.”

  9

  They settled into a cab, and Stone told the driver to take them to East Seventy-second and Madison Avenue.

  “Well, that was embarrassing,” Rocky said.

  “I embarrassed you?”

  “No, you were just aware of your surroundings, and I wasn’t—not sufficiently. Why did we go to Bloomindale’s for Polo boxer shorts when we were going to the Ralph Lauren store anyway?”

  “I wanted to be sure of getting the ones I wanted, not the ones they wanted me to have.”

  “All right, I’ll accept that.”

  “Do you really think the thing with my computer was an attack on my life, not the life of the hard disk?”

  “Oh, that, too, but there was about an ounce of C-4 explosive in that bang, which could have taken your head off, if you’d been working at that computer. There’s also the fact that one cannot transmit explosives over the Internet, only trigger what has already been placed there.”

  “You mean someone was in my house at some point?”

  “At some point, yes. The C-4 didn’t arrive by homing pigeon.”

  “And no amateur could have breached my security system without setting off alarms.”

  “I wasn’t going to bring that up, but yes.”

  The cab arrived, and they got out. Stone held the heavy store door open for her.

  “What are we looking for?” Rocky asked.

  “Tell you what: I’ll look around for something to look for, and you look out for assassins.”

  “That’s a sensible division of labor,” she replied. “All I have to do is not confuse the assassins with the other two members of Betty’s team, who will have changed places with her and her friend, Evan, taking the lead.”

  “What are the chances you would know one of them?”

  “Poor.”

  “Lance wouldn’t make the same mistake twice?”

  “Lance didn’t make it the first time,” Rocky replied. “He would have instructed somebody, who would have instructed somebody. That last guy is who will burn, if this gets back to Lance.”

  “Life is complicated in the CIA, isn’t it?”

  “Not necessarily. I’ve already spotted the other team guarding you.”

  “Dare I ask?”

  “Don’t look now, but it’s the gay couple looking at antique wristwatches near the front door, and there are two more, the women checking out the cabinet near the elevator, waiting to see if we get on.”

  “I could never be a spy,” Stone said. “I wouldn’t have spotted any of them.”

  “You just haven’t been trained to the right level of paranoia,” Rocky said. “After today, everybody you see will look like an assassin.”

  Stone laughed. “Forever?”

  “No, just until the feeling of threat wears off. For a pro, it’s forever. You can count on me for the paranoia.”

  “Let’s look at shoes,” Stone said, steering her past the elevators.

  “Why would you ever want to? I’ve seen your dressing room, and the shoe rack is chock-full.”

  “I’m always on the lookout for a bargain,” Stone said, checking out the shelves.

  “Define ‘bargain.’”

  “Alligator shoes, half off. I couldn’t pass that up.”

  “I’ve seen your financial statement, Stone,” she said. “If you want alligator shoes, why don’t you just buy them?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Stone asked. “Your problem is that you’re too wrapped up in looking for assassins to see the bargains.”

  “Thank God one of us is.”

  Stone spied a pair of alligator loafers, on sale. “Aha!”

  Rocky jumped. “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “‘Aha!’ I thought you had spotted assassins.”

  “I’m much more focused than that,” Stone said, picking up a loafer and stroking it. “In a 10D?” Stone said to the salesclerk.

  “I’ll check,” the man said, then vanished through a small door.

  Stone eased into an easy chair. “I’ll cover the door from here,” he said.

  “And what am I supposed to do? Shop for shoes?”

  “If you spot a bargain, sing out.”

  The salesclerk reappeared with two shoeboxes. “One black, one cognac,” he said.

  Stone tried on the left shoe of both of them in succession.

  “Why are you trying on just the left shoe?” Rocky asked.

  “My left foot is slightly larger than my right. If they fit the left, they’ll fit both. It’s a time-saver.” He turned to the clerk. “How about seventy percent off, if I buy both pairs?”

  “I’ll check with my manager,” he said, and disappeared again through the small door.

  “You’re bargaining with them?”

  “I’ll bet it works, too.”

  The clerk came back. “Sixty percent off for both pairs.”

  “Done,” Stone said, handing him the shoes. The clerk went away to bag them. “See that? I saved, what? A little more than thirteen hundred dollars.”

  “No, you spent nearly a thousand.”

  “Small minds quibble.”

  “I’m not quibbling. It’s not my money.”

  “Good thing, too; I’d be running out of alligator shoes. Spot any assassins?”

  “Only one candidate,” Rocky said. “Just got off the elevator from downstairs.”

  “The only thing downstairs is the toilets.”

  “Assassins pee, too,” she said.

  “The guy dressed all in black, with a black hat over a billiard-ball head? Isn’t he too obvious?”

  “That doesn’t mean you’re safe,” she replied.

  The salesclerk returned with Stone’s card and the receipt; he signed it.

  “Can we get out of here?” she asked. “He could have one or more accomplices.”

  “I’m done,” Stone said, rising. “Where are your four helpers?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I guess the guy isn’t obvious enough for them.”

  “Apparently not,” she said, striking out for the front door. The doorman saw them coming and went outside to corral a cab. It was there when they arrived, and Stone tipped the doorman fifty dollars.

  “That was very generous, wasn’t it?” Rocky said as the cab pulled away.”

  “He may have saved my life,” Stone said, looking back. “Our assassin is looking for his own cab, with no help from the doorman.” />
  “You got yourself another bargain,” Rocky said.

  10

  As they approached the house, Stone used his iPhone to open the garage door, dazzling the cabdriver.

  “That never happened before,” the man said.

  “And may never again,” Stone said, helping Rocky out of the cab. He tipped the man fifty, and the cab backed out of the garage. Stone closed the door behind him.

  “Is fifty dollars your standard tip?” Rocky asked.

  “Only when my life is at stake,” Stone said, letting them into the house. “Where would you like to have dinner tonight?”

  “Can I choose anyplace I like?”

  “Of course.”

  “I choose, Brasserie Lipp.”

  “That’s in Paris.”

  “That’s the main reason I chose it,” she said, “but I do like the choucroute. Also, Lance has suggested we get out of town, and as far away as possible.”

  Stone checked his watch. “I’m afraid I don’t have a rocket ship at my disposal, so it’ll have to be tomorrow night.” He sat her down in the study with a drink, whipped out his cell phone, and called Brasserie Lipp, conducting a brief conversation in his schoolboy French. He hung up. “Tomorrow at eight.”

  “Don’t we need to call an airline, too?”

  “I thought you read my file.”

  “I missed the part about the jet fighter.”

  “Just an ordinary Gulfstream 500.”

  “Hotel?”

  “House.”

  “I’ve underestimated you.”

  “You go right on doing that.” He buzzed Joan.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Let Faith know we’re flying to Paris tomorrow morning, wheels up at eight am; let Fred know, too.” He hung up.

  “Let me handle the transport on the other end. And I’ll need to pack.”

  “Shop in Paris, instead of packing in New York. On me. You can handle the transport.”

  “Where’s your house in Paris?”

  “Quite near Lipp. Only yards from Ralph Lauren. His stuff suits you.”

  “Not often enough,” she said.

  “Clearly, you’ve been hanging out with the wrong men.”

  “Indubitably,” she said. “How will I ever repay you?”