6 Stone Barrington Novels (131 page)

Stone went home and called Bob Cantor.

“Hey, Stone.”

“Hey, Bob. Where's that nephew of yours?”

“Back running the photo processing equipment at the drugstore.”

“What happened to his business plans in Saint Thomas?”

“The boy is—how shall I put it?—mercurial.”

“You're a master of understatement.”

“What's up?”

“I want my house swept every day for a week. Can you manage the time?”

“Every day? What have you gotten yourself into?”

“Never mind. I just don't want to be overheard while I'm doing it.”

“It'd help if I knew what sort of surveillance you're worried about.”

“Phones, rooms, the works.”

“Who's the opposition?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“If it's some amateur, this is easy. If it's a pro, or a group of pros, it's going to be harder.”

“It's a group of pros.”

“I'll be there in an hour.”

Cantor turned up and began by checking the phone system. After an hour he came into Stone's office, holding up something electronic-looking. “Your phones were bugged, big time,” he said, “and this is very sophisticated stuff.”

“How sophisticated?”

“They don't have to have a van parked outside your house. This probably has a range of a mile, maybe two. They can leave a voice-activated recorder running and listen to your conversations whenever they get around to it. This device wasn't bought at Radio Shack, or off the shelf anyplace else, come to that. This is custom-designed, custom-made, and it's not a one-off, either. Whoever did this has quality manufacturing at his disposal. Who are these people?”

“An intelligence service.”

“Not ours, I hope. I don't want to mess with those people.”

“It's foreign.”

“How foreign? We're not talking about Arabs, are we?”

“They speak our language; let's leave it at that. Are the phones secure now?”

“Yep—at least, until I leave the house. There are other ways to do this, you know, if they can get access to underground phone company equipment.”

“What about the rest of the house?”

“Give me a few minutes.”

Cantor came back a while later. “I haven't picked up anything planted, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. These people could rent an apartment behind your house or across the street and pick up the vibrations from the glass in your windows.”

“I have double glazing throughout the house.”

“That'll help. Are you planning to have some important conversations in the house?”

“Maybe.”

“Then let's go find places where you can defeat surveillance. I wouldn't use this office,” he said, pointing at the view of the gardens. “Too easy for them. Let's go upstairs.”

They walked around the house, looking at rooms. “The dining room's your best spot; no windows at all. The study is good, too, if you draw those velvet curtains. Your bedroom and the kitchen are not good.”

“Okay, Bob, I get the picture. I need some more help.”

“What kind?”

“I want you to round up three or four ex-cops and have them tail me.”

“You afraid of some sort of personal attack?”

“No, I'm afraid of being tailed. I want your people to look out for other people following me.”

“Gotcha,” Cantor said, leafing through his address book. “You want to be wired to my watchers?”

“That would be good.”

“When do you want to start?”

“I'm going to have a meeting here later. Right after that.”

“What time is the meeting?”

“I have to arrange it, then I'll let you know. You start rounding up your guys.”

“You've got my cell phone number. Call me.”

“Will do.” Cantor let himself out of the house.

 

Stone called Carpenter. “I want another meeting with Sir Edward.”

“I'm not sure he has the time.”

“
What?
Is he jerking me around?”

“Can you arrange the meeting with La Biche?”

“We can talk about that at the meeting.”

“I'll see if he has the time.”

“If he wants to get this done, tell him to find the time. We're meeting at my house, as soon as possible.”

“He'll want to choose the spot.”

“Then tell him to go fuck himself.” Stone hung up.

The phone rang ten minutes later.

“Yes?”

“Five o'clock, at your house,” she said.

“Just him,” Stone replied.

“He wants me.”

“I want you, too, when you're not killing people. Tell him I'll frisk him for a wire—you, too.”

“He won't sit still for that.”

“We're going to do this my way, or not at all,” Stone said. “What's it going to be?”

She covered the phone and spoke to someone else, then came back. “See you at five,” she said.

Stone hung up and called Bob Cantor. “The meeting's at five.”

“That's going to be tough. How long will it last?”

“Half an hour to an hour is my best guess.”

“I'll do the best I can.”

Stone went to the dining room. He moved all the chairs back to the wall, except three, then he went to his desk, rummaged through a drawer, and came up with a small scanner. He replaced the batteries and put it into his pocket, then he sat down and called Marie-Thérèse's cell phone.

“Yes?”

“Call me from a pay phone,” he said. “I've had my phones checked. They were bugged, but they're clean now.”

“Ten minutes,” she said, then hung up.

Stone waited as patiently as he could, then picked up the phone as soon as it rang. “That you?”

“It's me.”

“I have a meeting with the English gentleman at five.”

“Good.”

“We have to talk about what you want, so I'll have something to negotiate about.”

“I want what he offered me, plus as much else as I can get.”

“You mean money? Damages for your parents' death?”

“That would be nice.”

“Given the attrition you've caused in his organization, I don't think you'd have a leg to stand on. You've already realized a good deal more than tit for tat.”

“All right, I want a written apology for the deaths of my parents.”

“I like that. It's good to start with something we know he'll never give us. What else?”

“I don't really care, except I think we need something to punish him with, if he reneges.”

“Let me give that some thought. I'll call you when the meeting is over.”

“Where is the meeting being held?”

“Oh no, you don't. You're not going to harm a hair on anybody's head while I'm in this, or you'll have to get yourself a new lawyer. I'm not going to be an accessory to a killing.”

“Oh, all right, I won't murder anybody for a while,” she said, like a child promising to be good.

“Good. Talk to you later.” He dictated some notes to Joan and read them as they came off the printer, then read them again. He was ready. He looked at his watch, impatient to get on with it.

Sir Edward and Carpenter were on time, and Stone showed them into the dining room. “Would you like some refreshment?” he asked.

“Perhaps later,” Sir Edward replied. “Let's get on with it.”

Stone sat down. “Marie-Thérèse is willing to meet with you in a public place of her choosing, under stringent security requirements, which she will dictate.”

“Agreed,” Sir Edward replied. “Subject to my approval of her choice of place.”

“You offered to meet at a place of
her
choosing. You won't know the place until you're there. If you become concerned as you make your way there, you can always abort.”

“How will she arrange this?”

“You'll go to a public place, then be contacted by cell phone and directed to another public place, then another, until she is satisfied you didn't bring company. Then, and only then, will the meeting take place.”

“Agreed,” Sir Edward replied.

“She will require a written apology from you, personally, on your service's letterhead, for the deaths of her parents.”

Sir Edward grew an inch. “Absolutely out of the question,” he said.

“And monetary damages,” Stone said.

“That is patently ridiculous,” Sir Edward replied hotly.

“Is it? Think about this for a moment, Sir Edward. On your instructions, members of your service lay in wait for her parents, deliberately destroyed their vehicle on a public street, killing her mother and father. That is, of course, a criminal act worthy of life in prison anyplace in the civilized world, but we'll overlook that and keep this a civil matter.”

“It doesn't sound very civil to me,” Sir Edward said.

“Civil as opposed to criminal. Marie-Thérèse, in return for your written acceptance of responsibility and apology, plus monetary damages, will forgo, in writing, her right to press criminal charges, and she will waive any further civil action.”

“Her parents were killed in a war,” Sir Edward said.

“Oh? Was there a declaration of war by Britain on Switzerland and its citizens?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, under international law, there was no war.”

Carpenter spoke up. “Stone, surely you can see that we cannot give her anything in writing. An apology, maybe, but not in writing. She might publish it.”

“That's exactly what she intends to do, should you renege on the agreement.”

“Ridiculous,” Sir Edward said.

“Is it? You have recourse if she breaks the agreement: You can reinstate the computer record of her activities with international law enforcement and intelligence services, and she becomes a fugitive again. She is entitled to recourse, as well, and the ability to publish your letter would be a motive for you to keep the agreement.”

“What else does she want?” Sir Edward asked.

“Just those two things.”

“How much does she want?”

“Two million dollars; a million for each parent.”

“Out of the question.”

“Make me an offer.”

Sir Edward did some whispering with Carpenter.

“One hundred thousand dollars,” Carpenter said.

“If you're going to make jokes, then we don't have anything left to talk about,” Stone said, gathering his notes.

More whispering. “All right, half a million,” Carpenter said.

“A million,” Stone replied.

“Three quarters of a million . . . euros,” Sir Edward said, “and that's my final offer.”

“I believe I can recommend that to my client,” Stone said, “though she reserves the right to reject the offer at her meeting with you.”

Sir Edward nodded.

“I've drafted some language for your letter,” Stone said, sliding a sheet of paper across the table.

Sir Edward shoved it at Carpenter. “Read it to me.”

Carpenter picked up the letter. “ ‘To whom it may concern: On (fill in date) in the city of Cairo, Egypt, agents of this service, at my personal direction, assassinated two Swiss citizens, René and Fatima du Bois, who were innocent of any crime. I wish to apologize personally, and on behalf of this service, to their daughter, Marie-Thérèse du Bois, for this unconscionable act. As a consequence of my actions, this service is paying the sum of (fill in amount) to Mademoiselle du Bois as reparations for the deaths of her parents. Signed.” '

“Will you excuse us for a few minutes?” Sir Edward asked.

“Of course.” Stone got up and went into his study. He could hear murmurs and occasionally the raised voice of Sir Edward. Finally, Carpenter came into the study. “All right, come in. And Stone, he will not go one inch further than what you're about to hear.”

“Let's hear it,” Stone said, getting up and walking back to the dining room.

Sir Edward sat, his jaw clenched, and stared at Stone.

“This is what we have,” Carpenter said, reading from a handwritten document. “ ‘To whom it may concern: Some time ago, agents of British Military Intelligence conducted an operation in the Middle East, during which two Swiss citizens, René and Fatima du Bois, were inadvertently killed. This organization regrets its actions and extends its apologies and sympathy to their daughter, Marie-Thérèse du
Bois.' That's it. There will be no mention of reparations in the letter. It will be typed on the letterhead of the Ministry of Defence.”

“And I won't change a fucking word of it,” Sir Edward said.

“All right,” Stone replied, “you may present the letter and your offer to Marie-Thérèse at your meeting.”

“Which will be when?” Carpenter asked.

“I'll let you know when I've spoken to my client.”

Everyone stood up, and Stone showed them out.

Carpenter hung back for a moment. “Stone, believe me when I tell you, this is an extraordinary concession for Sir Edward. Please tell your client that he will offer nothing further.”

“I'll pass that on,” Stone said.

“Call me when you have a time for the meeting.” The two walked away from the house.

Stone went back inside, called Marie-Thérèse and asked her to call back from a pay phone. When she did, he read her the text of the letter and told her about the money.

“The letter and the sum are both inadequate,” she replied.

“Listen to me, Marie-Thérèse. This is the offer, and it won't change. It's more than you ever expected to get, and I advise you in the strongest terms to accept it.”

She was quiet for a moment. “All right, but Sir Edward will have to apologize to me in person when we meet.”

“We can make that demand at the meeting, but don't expect it to happen.”

“All right. Now, how are we going to prevent these people from trying to kill me at the meeting?”

“I have some ideas about that,” Stone said, and he explained.

“I like it,” she said. “Tell Sir Edward to be at the Rockefeller Center skating rink tomorrow at three p.m.”

“All right,” Stone said, and hung up. Then he called Dino.