"Have you had much experience with the CIA?" he asked.

"Not really."

"Then you can't tell me what they'd do to me, if I told you about their investigation?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, I think before we discuss your idea further, I should know what the consequences might be. I mean, there's a full range of possibilities, considering the way my contract reads. They could shoot me; they could torture me; they could put me in an airplane and kick me out over the ocean."

"They wouldn't do that to you."

"You've just admitted that you've had little experience with them. How do you know what they might do?"

She kissed him on a nipple. "Well, whatever they did to you, it would be worth it."

"Worth it to you, you mean?"

"Well, yes."

"So you'd sacrifice me to further your career?"

"Of course. I'm an ambitious woman."

"God save me from ambitious women."

"Come on, Stone, I want to know why they're interested in a con man and thief."

"Maybe they want to hire him."

"I wouldn't put it past them, but I think it's more than that."

"What reason do you have for thinking it's more than that?"

"Now you're trying to pump me for information," she said, slapping him on the belly.

"Isn't that what you're doing to me?"

"Well, yes, but I'm the girl; it's my job."

"How'd you ever get out of Harvard Law with reasoning like that?"

"How about if I tempt you sexually?"

"I think you've just removed sexual temptation from the equation, considering my current state."

"I'll bet I could get you going again."

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you? Are you working for the CIA?"

The phone rang. Stone looked at his bedside clock: a little past two a.m. "That's gotta be Lance," he muttered, picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, there, Stone."

"Billy Bob?"

"Sometimes."

"Your accent is slipping."

"Well, we don't need that anymore, do we?"

"Why do you always call in the middle of the night? You aren't in Hawaii this time." He looked at the caller ID screen on his phone: a 917 number, a New York cell phone.

"Because in the middle of the night, I know where to find you. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"My sleep."

"Oh, come on, Stone; you're not sleeping, not with the lovely U.S. Attorney in your bed."

Stone sat up and began looking for a pen. He found one and jotted down the calling number.

"What is he saying?" Tiff asked, trying to listen in on the call.

"Have you been following me, Billy Bob?"

"Well, someone has, obviously. How else would I know Ms. Baldwin is in bed with you?"

Stone found the thought disturbing. "Listen, can we drop this Billy Bob stuff? What's your name?"

"What? You expect me to tell you my real name, so you can use it to track me down? Tell you what: You tell me what you're doing messing with the CIA, and I'll tell you my real name."

"I'm a consultant to them," Stone replied. "Now, what's your real name?"

"Well, I don't guess it can hurt. The name I was born with is Harlan Wilson."

"When did you stop using it?"

"Right after I got out of the army," he replied.

"How long ago was that?"

"Oh, the CIA can tell you that."

"They don't talk to me all that much."

"Sure, they do. You talk all the time. Why, you were at my wife's apartment with them this afternoon, weren't you?"

"How many wives do you have, Harlan?"

"Don't call me that; I prefer Billy Bob."

"The waiters at Elaine's call you Two-Dollar Bill."

Billy Bob laughed. "I like that."

"Where'd you get the two-dollar bills, Billy Bob?"

"I bought 'em at a nice discount from a fella I know."

"The same fella that stole them from Fort Dix and murdered two army officers?"

Silence. "I'm getting bored with this conversation," Billy Bob said.

"Oh, you didn't know about the robbery? Surely, you didn't think you could buy money at a discount, unless it was hot."

Silence. Then he hung up.

Stone replaced the receiver.

"I want to know everything he said," Tiff said, digging him in the ribs.

"He said you were in bed with me," Stone said.

STONE WOKE UP to an empty bed. Tiff was gone, and it was nearly ten o'clock. There was something he had to do, but he couldn't remember what, until he rolled over and looked at his bedside table. The slip of paper he'd written Billy Bob's number on was gone. That woke him up.

He sat on the edge of bed and called up the list of caller ID numbers, people who had called him. Billy Bob's 917 number wasn't there. Shit.

He called Lance.

"Yes?"

"It's Stone."

"I can see that from my caller ID."

"Billy Bob called me last night."

"From where?"

"I don't know; he was on a cell phone, a New York number."

"What's the number?"

"I don't know."

"You have caller ID, don't you?"

"I tried that; it didn't register somehow. Technical glitch, I guess."

"Then how did you know it was a 917 number?"

Stone tried to get his mind in gear; it wasn't working. "Stone?"

"I asked him his real name, and he said it was Harlan Wilson."

"Harold Wilson?"

"Harlan." Stone spelled it for him. "Why would he tell you his real name?"

"Maybe he's lying, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to ask."

"Right. The bastard is so arrogant, he might actually tell you."

"Maybe he did."

"I'll check it out."

"Talk to you later."

"Stone?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you have Billy Bob's number?"

"I can't explain it."

"Were you alone last night?"

"Funny, Billy Bob asked me the same thing. Or rather, he told me."

"He told you you were in bed with somebody?"

"Yes."

"And that would be Ms. Baldwin." It wasn't a question. Stone said nothing.

"And did you write down the number?"

"Sort of."

"And was it still there when you woke up?"

"Not exactly."

"And had it been deleted from your caller ID log?"

"Possibly."

"You incredible schmuck."

It was out of character for Lance to employ Yiddish epithets, Stone thought. He must be really pissed off. "I can't argue with that."

"What else did you tell her?"

"Nothing. I told her that my contract with the Agency prohibited me from discussing it."

"Except you told her that you had a contract with the Agency."

"I think she figured that out when she found me with you in Billy Bob's apartment. She's not stupid."

"No, she's not, but she's a pain in the ass. Right now, she's running down that number and putting an electronic watch on it, which means that she and her people have a better shot at getting their hands on Billy Bob than we do. I do not like that."

"I understand."

"It's much easier to deal with the Attorney General when he doesn't actually have custody of the man we're looking for."

"Look, Lance, I don't want to get involved in your interagency warfare."

"You already are involved, Stone. When you signed that contract, you joined our little army, and right now, you appear to have committed treason."

"I didn't commit anything," Stone said. "She stole the piece of paper and erased the number while I was asleep. That makes me a victim, not a perpetrator."

"And that's the only thing that is preventing me from hauling you before a…"

"A what?"

"Never mind; just know that you can be hauled before it, should something like this happen again."

"I'll try to remember that."

"See that you do. Now, you said that Billy Bob told you you were in bed with Ms. Baldwin?"

"Ah, yes."

"Don't leave the house; I'm sending a tech over there right now to sweep the place."

"Do you really think that's necessary?"