Stone was lying in bed with a second cup of coffee and the Times when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“It’s Ann.”

“Hello, there!”

“I returned your call last night but got only voice mail.”

“I got your message, and I was waiting for it to be late enough to call you. There’s a seven-hour time difference. Why are you up so early?”

“A dream woke me,” she said. “I dreamed you were making love to another woman.”

“My goodness.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“It’s all right if you make love to other women, Stone, just don’t tell me about it.”

“That’s very generous of you. How is the campaign going?”

“Splendidly. Kate has crafted a stump speech for herself, including some funny stuff, and always a sly reference to the pregnancy.”

“How’s that going down with the crowds?”

“Like champagne. Carson’s appearances, by comparison, are like a dose of castor oil.”

“Fortunately, I’ve never tasted castor oil, but I understand the comparison.”

“Fortunately, neither have I.”

“Was announcing the pregnancy the right thing to do?”

“Absolutely. The very fact of it has kept the Republicans off balance since day one. And they can’t say nasty things about a pregnant woman—their wives would kill them.”

“How is Kate doing in the polls?”

“An average of a seven-point lead. Of course, that can evaporate in a flash, if she should stumble.”

“Kate’s not the stumbling type,” Stone said. “How are you bearing up under the pressure?”

“I’m not sleeping much,” she replied.

“More bad dreams?”

“No, I’m just always thinking—new ideas are flashing through my mind, and I can’t seem to make them go away.”

“Count sheep.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I’m always happy to give advice.”

“I’m getting a lot of attention from the press,” she said. “They usually mention you.”

“In what capacity?”

“As my boyfriend, paramour, companion, or some other sly reference.”

“I certainly don’t mind the connection.”

“Neither do I. Oh, my God!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to get up and go to work.”

“Give my best to Kate.”

“I’ll do that. Have a good day.”

“I’ll try. Call you later?”

“Perhaps it’s best if I call you. I’m a lot busier than you are.”

“As you wish.”

She made a kissing noise and hung up.

Stone went back to his paper but didn’t concentrate very well. He found the crossword impossible.

12

There was a hammering on the door. “Entrez!” Stone shouted.

Dino opened the door from the adjoining room. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nothing left to interrupt,” Stone replied. “She’s gone. What are you up to today?”

“The head of the German intelligence service speaks at ten. Should be interesting. By the way, guess who’s in from London?”

“I haven’t the foggiest.”

“You forget easily.”

“Oh, God, is it Felicity?” Felicity Devonshire, with whom Stone had had a long-running affair, was the head of MI-6, the British foreign intelligence service.

“Bright as a new penny, as the Brits would say. She sends her regards.”

“Send mine back, and my apologies for not being in touch.”

“What shall I tell her?”

“Anything but the truth—I’m not up to two women. Tell her I’m overwhelmed with the opening of the hotel.”

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed that.”

“We have a board meeting this afternoon to hear about progress toward the opening.”

“They’re doing major stuff to the lobby and sandblasting the exterior.”

“Good, those are the last things on the list. The rooms are ready for opening.”

“You don’t really need to be here, do you?”

“That’s not what I told Bill Eggers. Actually, the board seems to value my advice. Perhaps it’s because I don’t give them much. Are you learning anything from your European colleagues?”

“Tidbits. We seem to be ahead of them in a lot of areas. I wish the Israelis were here, but they’re not Europeans to the EEC. The Brits have a camera system all around their country that would be the envy of Big Brother.”

“I’m sure you’re working on that.”

“We’ll get what we need when Tom Donnelly is mayor.” Donnelly was Dino’s old boss, who was running for office.

“Then you’ll have a free rein.”

“We’ll see. How’s your evening looking?”

“Mirabelle is taking me to some restaurant in the country.”

Dino looked at his watch. “Gotta run, there’s a car waiting for me.”

“What’s Viv doing with her time?”

“Sitting at Mike Freeman’s elbow at all the meetings, absorbing knowledge.” Dino grabbed his briefcase, gave a little wave, and departed.

Stone got up and dressed—he wasn’t sure what he was dressing for. The phone rang.

“Hello?”

“It’s Rick. The ambassador would like to meet you.”

“What on earth for?”

“I think she’s curious about you. She doesn’t really understand your relationship to the Agency.”

“Neither do I,” Stone said. “When?”

“How about right now? Your tank awaits.”

“I’ll go right down.” He hung up, got into his suit jacket, went downstairs, and got into the waiting van. Twenty minutes later he was being escorted into the ambassador’s office.

Her name was Linda Flournoy, he knew, and she was a billionaire’s widow who had given a lot of money to the Democratic Party. About all else he knew about her was that she was said to throw great dinners and was fluent in French. She was already on her feet when he walked in.

“Good morning,” she said, extending a hand. She was tall, elegantly dressed and coifed, and looked ten years younger than her fifty-five years.

Stone shook the hand. “Madame Ambassador, how do you do?”

“Call me Linda,” she said, waving him to a sofa and taking a seat at the other end.

“Linda, it is.” He sat. “And I’m Stone.”

“I’ve heard good words about you from the president and the first lady.”

“They have always been kind to me.”

“I witnessed the effects of what I heard was your influence at the convention,” she said. “To hear some tell it, you were instrumental in Kate’s getting the nomination.”

“Reports of my influence are exaggerated. I was happy to help where I could. I would very much like to see Kate win the presidency.”

“So would I,” she said. “I’m having a good time in Paris, and I wouldn’t mind being reappointed.”

“You’ve been here, what, a year?”

“Fourteen months. Not long enough. Tell me, Stone, why is everybody trying to kill you?”

“I hope not everybody, but I seem to have run afoul of a bunch of mad Russians.”

“So I hear. What do they have to gain by your death?”

“They want the Arrington hotels, but they won’t get them, no matter what they do to me. There’s an element of revenge involved, too.”

“Revenge for what?”

“They think I was somehow involved in the death of a man named Yuri Majorov, who, apparently, was their leader.”

“Him I know about. I heard it was of natural causes, aboard his own airplane.”

“I heard that, too, but apparently Yuri’s brother, Yevgeny, is a suspicious man, and he needs someone to be suspicious of. I seem to fill the bill.”

“All right, I won’t dig any more deeply into this with you, but I’m not getting a lot of answers out of the Agency’s Rick LaRose, either.”

“Rick may be as confused as I am, but he is doing his best to keep my hair from being mussed.”

“I throw a lot of dinner parties around here,” she said. “They’re good business, and I can always use a spare man. May I invite you to something?”

“That would be an honor.”

“You may have to put up with some boring women.”

“Women are rarely boring,” Stone said. “On the whole, I prefer their company to that of men, who are often boring.”

“Tomorrow evening at eight, at my residence?”