“There’s good news and bad news,” she said. “The good news is that I forgot to put a board meeting of the Arrington Group on your calendar.”

Stone was immediately suspicious. “And what is the bad news?”

“The meeting is tomorrow,” she said. “At noon.”

“Well, I can probably get out of bed early enough to make that.”

“That’s not all the bad news.”

“Oh, God,” Stone said, mostly to himself.

“You already said that.”

“What’s the rest of the bad news?”

“The board meeting is in Rome.”

“Rome is up the Hudson somewhere, isn’t it?”

“Not that Rome.”

“Rome, Georgia? Rome has an airport. I could fly myself down there tomorrow morning.”

“Think farther east.”

“Oh, God,” Stone said. “Not that Rome.”

“That one. Now don’t say, ‘Oh, God’ again, and don’t panic—there’s an Alitalia flight tonight.”

“What time?”

“In, let’s see, fifty-four minutes.”

“Which airport?”

“JFK.”

“That’s a forty-five-minute drive,” he pointed out.

“And Fred is off tonight, he went to the theater.”

“I’ll never make it,” he said.

“Think about this: you’re sitting next to the guy with the fastest car in town.”

“Hang on a minute.” He turned to Dino. “I’ve got to be at JFK in fifty-four minutes to catch a plane to Rome. Can I borrow your car?”

“You mean the one with the flashing lights on top?”

“That’s the one.”

“I can see the headlines in tomorrow’s Post,” Dino said. “POLICE COMMISH LOANS OFFICIAL CAR TO SCHMUCK, WHO IS INVOLVED IN TERRIBLE ACCIDENT.”

“Fifty-three minutes!” Joan shouted from the other end of the phone call.

“Only if I’m in the car with you,” Dino said. “That would shorten the headline to, SCHMUCK HITCHES RIDE WITH COMMISH.”

“You two better get going,” Viv said.

“You’re not coming with us?” Stone asked.

“I’d scream all the way,” she replied. “Go on, get your asses in gear! I’ll get the check.”

“I’ll call you en route with further instructions,” he said to Joan, then hung up and ran for the door, followed closely by Dino.

2

Dino got into the backseat of the black SUV with Stone and slammed the door. “We’ve got fifty-one minutes to make a flight at JFK,” he said to his driver. “Punch it, and use the siren and the lights.”

“God bless you,” Stone said, patting him on the knee.

“Don’t bring God into this, and don’t put your hand on my knee.”

“You want me to shoot him, boss?” the detective in the front passenger seat asked.

“Not unless he does it again. You get on the horn to security at Kennedy and tell them I want to drive onto the ramp. Find out what gate the Alitalia flight to Rome is occupying, and tell them to stand by for an arriving passenger, Barrington.”

“Yes, sir.” The detective whipped out his phone.

Stone dialed Joan’s number.

“I’m here.”

“Am I on the flight?” he shouted over the siren.

“You are—you got the last seat, and I ordered you a car.”

“Good. I need a room at the Hassler in Rome.”

“I’ve already called them and talked to the night man. It’s the middle of the night there, but he’s promised to have you a bed, he just can’t promise you a suite.”

“Where’s the board meeting tomorrow?”

“In a conference room at the Hassler.”

“When did we get notice of the meeting?”

“Do you really need to know?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Maybe ten days ago. I got busy and . . .”

“Okay, go upstairs to my dressing room and pack the following, ready?”

“Shoot.”

“Use the two medium-sized cases. Pack a blue suit, a chalk-stripe, and—I don’t know, maybe a tuxedo, pleated shirt, and black tie. Pack the black alligator oxfords, six pairs of boxers, six pairs of black socks, half a dozen linen handkerchiefs, and six shirts that go with the suits and half a dozen ties, and include my travel toiletries kit. Oh, shit, I don’t have my passport. Find it.”

“Are you wearing your blue blazer with the yacht club buttons?”

“Yes.”

“Try the left inside pocket.”

Stone slapped his chest, rummaged in the pocket, and came up with the alligator passport case. “Got it. How did you know where it was?”

“When the new one came in the mail, I saw you put it there. What else do you need?”

“A briefcase—the black alligator one, and all the stuff that’s in it. You might make sure there’s a legal pad in there.”

“Right. What else?”

“Is it cold in Rome?”

“It’s spring, and Rome is a subtropical climate.”

“No coat, then. What’s the agenda for the board meeting?”

“I’ll fax it to you before I go to bed.”

“FedEx the luggage, so it’ll be there the day after tomorrow. I’ll make do until then.”

“Have a good trip.”

“Bye.” Stone hung up and looked around. They were on what looked like the Van Wyck Expressway, and cars were scattering before them. “I like this,” he said. “This is how to go to the airport.”

“You’re lucky it isn’t rush hour,” the driver said.

“He’s lucky he knows me,” Dino said.

“I know you, and I love you, Dino.”

“Stop that.”

“Is his hand on your knee again, boss?” the detective asked.

“He knows better than that now.”

“Shucks, I was counting on shooting him.”

They were off the expressway and onto the labyrinth of roads around the airport. They stopped at a gate, which rolled back to admit them, and a security guard gave them the gate number and directions.

“You can turn off the siren now,” Dino said. “But keep the lights on.”

“Gotcha, boss.” The driver floored it, and two minutes later they pulled up next to a giant airplane, connected to the terminal by a snaking boarding tunnel.

“Thanks, Dino,” Stone said. “I owe you.”

“I’ll send you a bill. Now get your ass on the plane—it was supposed to push back three minutes ago.”

A security guard waved Stone to a door, and he ran up a flight of stairs, emerging in the tunnel near the aircraft door. A flight attendant awaited, his hand on the door. “Any luggage, Mr. Barrington?”

“None,” Stone said, entering the airplane.

“Just a moment.” He closed the door behind them, turned right, and started down an aisle. They were in the tourist cabin, and the attendant was pointing at a seat right in the middle of the airplane.

“Wait a minute—no first class?” Stone asked.

“The flight is full. This is it.”

Stone sighed and squeezed past the knees of two very large passengers and flopped into the seat. An extremely fat man sat to his left, taking up the entire armrest. “Welcome aboard,” he said.

“Thanks.” Stone looked to his right and found a woman of reasonable proportions.

“Aren’t you the lucky guy?” she said.

“Not lucky enough,” Stone said, trying to find something to do with his left arm. “How long is this flight?”

“For me, nine hours. For you, forever.”

“Too right.”

“I’m Hedy Kiesler,” she said. “Actually Hedwig Eva Maria Kiesler, but only my mother calls me that.”

“All of it?”

“Just Hedwig. If you call me anything but Hedy, I’ll hurt you.”

“I believe you,” Stone said, offering a hand. “I’m Stone Barrington.”

She leaned in. “I’m glad you made it. I thought I was going to have to deal with the fat guy.”

“I heard that!” the fat guy said.

“Sorry.”

The airplane was moving backward; after a moment an engine started. A female flight attendant appeared. “Mr. Barrington? I have two seats for you and your companion in first class.”

“What companion?” Hedy asked Stone.

“I think she means you. Join me?”