Unintended Consequences (8 page)

“Well, that’s not the worst offer I’ve ever had,” Stone said, “but quite frankly, I don’t think I need any help from you in that regard.”

“Perhaps not, but I can see that it never happens again. I can send her back to Stockholm.”

“A threat! Now we have threats!”

“Get duBois on our team, and I’ll give you a medal.”

“A medal? One of your ‘jockstrap’ medals that nobody can wear in his lifetime?”

“Well, there is that.”

“I don’t want your fucking medal, I just want to get my memory back.”

“Our doctor tells me that shock treatments might help.”

“Shock treatments? That’s like something out of a bad movie! I haven’t heard about shock treatments since
The Snake Pit
.”

“Well, there was
One Flew Over the Cuckoo
’
s Nest
, with Jack Nicholson.”

“Yeah, and look how that turned out!”

“It was just a thought. I was trying to help.”

“Help? Help me get strapped to a table with a rubber thing between my teeth and electrodes on my temples?”

“All right, forget the electroshock treatments. Tell you what I’ll do: I’ll send somebody up to the North Woods of Maine to find Eggers and give him a satphone. Then you can ask him what you and duBois were doing in New York. He’ll know, won’t he?”

“Now,
that
is the first sensible thing you’ve had to say since you broke into my suite.”

“I’m a spy, I don’t need to break in,” Lance pointed out. “I know how to pick locks.”

“Is that how you got in here?”

“I also know how to give a hundred-euro note to a bellman.”

“All right, get a satphone to Eggers. I’ll talk to him, and then we’ll talk again.”

“I’d buy you dinner, but I hear Helga has dibs.”

“Yes, and don’t you say another word to Helga,” Stone said.

Lance whipped out his cell phone and started issuing orders.

16

S
tone was dressing for dinner when his cell phone went off. “Hello?”

“It’s Holly. Didn’t you get my message?”

“Yes, but I was interrupted and didn’t have a chance to call.”

“Did you hear from Dino?”

“Yes, and thank you for that. I was very relieved.”

“I would have called you myself, but I’ve been in a marathon meeting with no phone.”

“Are you back in New York?”

“Tomorrow. Oh, by the way, Lance is going to be confirmed as director.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

“You’ve talked to Lance?”

“Yes, he was in my suite when I got back from lunch—bribed a bellman.”

“Stone, it’s the drug, you’re hallucinating.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Lance is down the hall in his office.”

“Not anymore he isn’t.”

“Stone, you’ve got to see a doctor.”

“Look, Holly, I’ve just had an extremely unpleasant half hour with Lance, and I’m not hallucinating.”

“Stone, listen: Lance cannot be in Paris.”

“I don’t know why the hell not.”

“I’ve told you, he’s here.”

“Tell you what, put me on hold, walk down to Lance’s office, and open the door. Then ask his secretary where he is.”

“Hold on.”

Stone stood, tapping his foot for two minutes before Holly came back on the line.

“All right, so he’s in Paris.”

“And I’m not hallucinating?”

“And you’re not hallucinating. What did he want?”

“He wants me to . . . Wait a minute, this isn’t a secure line, is it?”

“It is on my end. What are you talking on?”

“My iPhone.”

“Then don’t say anything that you don’t want heard.”

Stone was silent.

“Hello?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to tell me what he said?”

“You just told me not to. Make up your mind.”

“Shit.”

“Will you excuse me, please? I’ll be late for dinner.”

“Where and with whom are you having dinner?”

“I can’t say, I might be overheard.”

“So what?”

“So the last person I was talking to, before Lance, had a shot taken at her. I don’t want that to happen to my dinner companion.”

“You are infuriating.”

“I’m pretty infuriated, myself. Turns out Lance is responsible for what happened to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, I can’t explain it to you on this phone.”

“Never mind, goodbye!” She hung up.

The phone on the bedside table rang, and Stone picked it up. “Hello?”

“Stone, it’s Marcel duBois. I hope you’re well.”

Stone relaxed a little. “Yes, Marcel, I’m very well, thank you.”

“I wonder if you’re free to have lunch with me tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’d be delighted.”

Marcel gave him an address. “Ask for me at the front desk,” he said. “One o’clock?”

“That’s fine.” They both hung up.

Stone was five minutes late for dinner and was embarrassed to find Helga waiting for him, already seated at a table by the big windows. He kissed her and sat down, but before he could speak, someone else pulled up a chair. Lance smiled at him sweetly. “Good evening, Stone, Helga.”

“Oh, Lance!” Helga said, sounding delighted. “What brings you to Paris?”

“I wish it were you, my dear, but it’s Stone.”

Helga looked at Stone oddly. “You two know each other?”

“Unfortunately,” Stone said.

“Stone,” Lance said, “give me your cell phone and your passport.”

“Why?” Stone demanded.

“Don’t be difficult.”

Stone sighed and handed over the two items.

Lance produced another cell phone, then turned on both of them. He made some data entries in each. “Give it a minute,” he said. “The two phones are syncing.”

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Stone said.

“You weren’t supposed to know. Ah!” He handed Stone the new iPhone, a white one, and slipped Stone’s into his pocket, then he removed Stone’s passport from its chocolate alligator holder and inserted another passport. “Sign this,” he said, pointing to a line on the passport.

Stone signed it.

“Now,” Lance said, “what you have is an iPhone that operates exactly as yours did, except that when you are connected to one of our phones, it automatically scrambles the conversation. It is a secure phone. And your new passport is a diplomatic one.”

“Why do I need that?”

“Because the way things have been going, it wouldn’t surprise me to hear that you’ve been arrested. That passport is a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

“Why would I be arrested?” Stone asked.

“For carrying this.” Lance, keeping his hand low, handed Stone something solid in a leather pouch.

“What did you just give me?” Stone asked.

“A small pistol, in a soft holster. Hook it to your belt.”

Stone did as he was told. “And why do I need this?”

“I told you, another of our people was shot at today.”

“And you think I could be next?”

“Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

“You can say that again.”

“My people have located Bill Eggers, and you will receive a phone call from him on your new phone around noon tomorrow. You should make the most of the call, because it wasn’t easy to arrange. It required an airplane on floats.”

“All right.”

“Now, I want you to arrange to see duBois again, the sooner the better.”

“How about one o’clock tomorrow?”

“That would be convenient. Why then?”

“He invited me to lunch.”

“Well,” Lance said, rising, “my work here is done. Call me at this number after you have spoken to duBois. I would like very much to meet with him.” He handed Stone a card.

Stone shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’m so sorry I can’t dine with you both,” Lance said.

“Don’t be sorry,” Stone replied.

Lance gave a little wave and disappeared.

17

S
tone turned his attention back to the gorgeous Helga. “I’m so sorry about that,” he said. “Lance can be a royal pain in the ass.”

“I know,” Helga replied. “I’m astonished that you know each other. How is that?”

“It’s a long and very boring story.”

“And you are working for him?”

“I’m under contract to his organization as a consultant. Now and then, Lance pops up and asks me to do something I’d rather not do.”

“Always?”

“I can’t remember an occasion when I was happy about what he wanted me to do. I’m sure you must have had that experience.”

“Well, yes, I have. It was fun, at first, but . . .” She didn’t continue.

“Did he ask you to meet me?”

“No, that was Marcel. I had no idea you were connected in this manner and, I’m sure, neither did Marcel.”

“I figured.”

“The other one, I knew about.”

“LaRose? You’d met before?”

“No, I just spotted him for what he was as soon as he walked in wearing that awful dinner suit and said he was a commercial attaché.”

“Not an undue assumption.”

A waiter appeared with an ice bucket and a bottle of Krug ’78. Stone tasted it, approved more than he could say, and the waiter poured a glass for both of them.

“This is the first time I’ve had Krug twice in the same week,” Stone said, raising his glass.

“This one is on me,” she replied, sipping the wine.

“Oh, no, I’m happy to deal with that.”

“It was my invitation, it is my dinner. In fact, I’ve already ordered for us.”

“Then I am your grateful guest.” Stone glanced out the windows. There, just across the Seine, was Notre Dame, beautifully lit. “There’s only one view like this,” he said.

“Yes, and it comes with superb food and a romantic atmosphere.”

“A wonderful combination.”

“What was it that Lance said about you being shot at?” Helga asked.

“Not I—another of Lance’s friends. He’s just hoping I get shot at.”

“Why is that?”

“Lance likes giving orders, and I have a strong antiauthoritarian streak. I hate taking them, so I always make him persuade me. It annoys him.”

“I’m impressed that he gave you a diplomatic passport,” she said.

“So am I, now that you mention it. I’ve always wanted one. Now I can park anywhere.”

She laughed. “That is to be wished.”

“How did you become entangled with Lance?”

“I met him at a dinner party two years ago, and he charmed me into sending him the occasional report.”

“How often do you do that?”

“Oh, a few times a year. I don’t want to bore him.”

“Do you know how Lance persuaded me to help him this time?”

“How?”

“He threatened to send you back to Sweden.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “That’s wonderful, but don’t worry, he can’t do that.”

“I wish I had known that at the time.”

Their first course arrived: a slab of foie gras, sautéed medium rare. Stone tried a slice. “Mmmmmm,” he breathed. “Just wonderful.”

“Do you know you can’t have foie gras in California anymore?” she asked.

“I knew that,” Stone replied. “I’m a partner in a business in Los Angeles, and we’re giving it away to our guests.”

“What sort of business, a restaurant?”

“A hotel called The Arrington, which has four restaurants.”

She leaned forward. “This I have read about, I think. It is in Bel-Air, is it not?”

“It is.”

“And how do you come to be a partner?”

“My late wife inherited the land from her late husband, and now my son’s trust leases it to the hotel company. I am his trustee, and I serve on the board of directors.”

“Oh,” she said, looking disappointed, “this ruins my plan.”

“What plan is that?”

“I was going to persuade you to move to Paris by supplying you with a lovely apartment and lots of beautiful clothes.”

“What a nice thought,” Stone said. “Being your kept man might be interesting.”

“But you are too rich. I can’t afford you.”

“We have a saying in America. ‘Why buy a cow when milk is so cheap?’ You see, you can have me for the price of a dinner at Tour d’Argent.”

“You are right,” she said. “This is a much better arrangement.”

“And I come with my own clothes.”

She giggled. “I have just had a wonderful thought.”

“Tell me.”

“Since we both report to Lance from time to time, let’s each write a report about this evening—tell him everything we had to eat and everything we do to each other after dinner!”

“What a wonderful idea! It will annoy him no end!”

Then one of Tour d’Argent’s famous ducks was presented to them, beautifully prepared, then eviscerated at the table by a captain and served.

“I can’t wait to tell Lance about this,” Stone said.

“I can’t wait to tell him what we do after dinner,” she replied.

18

S
tone sat at the desk in Helga’s sitting room at the Plaza Athénée, using her computer and printer, naked. Helga’s report to Lance was beside him, and he consulted as he wrote. “You’re really going to say this?” he asked.

“All of it. It will be good for Lance.”

“Okay, I’m with you. Small differences: where you say you kept my attention through the night, I’m saying you kept me
at
attention.”

“Perfect.”

Stone printed the document, then they both put them into Plaza Athénée envelopes and addressed them to Lance. Helga hung over his shoulders, pinching his nipples. “Oh, no,” Stone said, “I’ll be late for lunch with Marcel.”

“Are you going to his home?”

“No, to his office.”

“His city home is the top two floors of his office building. The one in the Bois is his country home—well, one of them.”

Stone got into his clothes and kissed Helga enthusiastically.

“Tonight?” she asked.

“Of course. Book us someplace you love, but this time and in the future, it’s on me.”

“As you wish.”

Stone was just closing the door to his suite when his cell phone began to buzz. “Hello?”

“Stone?” The voice sounded very far away.

“Bill?”

“What the fuck is going on? We had this airplane land on the lake last night and had to put up the pilot in the guest house, and now I’m phoning you in the middle of the night, almost.”