“Why would you want to shoot someone who has your life in his hands?” Dino asked.
“Oh, it’s you. I thought it was that ass from Page Six.”
“You might as well talk to him. Maybe people will stop calling when they know the Post has the story.”
“Anything new?”
“Not a thing.”
“Then why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” Stone asked.
“I just wanted to see if you were still alive, and it’s six-thirty already,” Dino said.
Stone hung up. His cell phone rang again.
“Hello?”
“It’s Dino. I have your cell phone number, you know.”
“In that case,” Stone said, “I’m turning it off.” And he did so.
4
Stone was downstairs in his office by nine o’clock, and Joan was lying in wait for him. “Okay,” she said. “Since I’ve watched the morning shows and read the papers and spoken to the two agents from Strategic Services, I think I fully grasp the situation.”
“Good, I’m glad I don’t have to explain it to you.”
“Am I going to get to shoot somebody again?” Joan had once shot a man in Stone’s office, who had been pointing a gun at him.
“If you’re lucky,” Stone said. “I know how much you enjoyed it last time.”
“I’m locked and loaded,” she replied, “even if I don’t fully grasp what that means.”
“You’re not alone. Please try not to shoot anybody, unless he or she exhibits murderous intention.”
“What would constitute an exhibition of ‘murderous intention’?” she asked.
“Pointing a weapon at you—or worse, at me.”
“Got it.”
“Oh, remember all the paperwork and questioning you had to deal with last time?”
“I do.”
“That’s a good reason for not firing unless you’re really convinced of murderous intention.”
“I’ll try not to be too trigger-happy,” she said, then went back to her office. She came back almost immediately. “There’s another guy here from Strategic Services, says he wants to check all the security equipment to make sure it’s working.”
“Check his ID, then set him loose in the house.”
She left. A moment later a man in coveralls, carrying a toolbox, came into his office and unceremoniously began checking the phone and electrical boxes, working from a plan of the house. When he was done, he left the office without a word and began to work his way around the house.
Stone’s iPhone rang and he picked it up.
“Scramble,” Lance Cabot said. The man was the director of Central Intelligence, and Stone had recently been appointed a personal advisor to him, holding the rank of deputy director.
“Scrambled,” Stone replied.
“What kind of mess have you got yourself into now?” Lance asked pleasantly.
“I’m not sure what kind of mess it is,” Stone replied, “except I’m advised by the NYPD that it could be fatal. I know only that I have no idea what’s going on.”
“You’re a constant source of amusement to me, Stone.”
“I’m so happy to hear that, Lance. I’m glad to provide you with amusement.”
“Are the press reports accurate?”
“For once, and regrettably, yes. I think Dino must have thought it in the interests of keeping the people on that list, including me, alive.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“No, but he and I and Joan are the only people of my acquaintance who were aware of the list. Except you, of course; you seem to be aware of everything.”
“And now that knowledge has been expanded to the world at large.”
“Exactly.”
“You shouldn’t leave the house, you know.”
“Lance, I’ve already had that conversation with Dino, and I think he covered all the bases. And there are two armed people from Strategic Services in the house, and one of their technicians, as well, to check all the security equipment.”
“You should locate that technician immediately,” Lance said, “and shoot him.”
“Why would I do anything so inhospitable to a person who is trying to protect me?”
“Stone, if you can remember as far back as a few weeks ago, you may recall that Agency people replaced all your security equipment with our own.”
“I guess Strategic Services didn’t get the memo,” Stone replied.
“And before that, all your equipment was installed and managed by your friend Bob Cantor. It has been some years since Stratigic Services has had anything to do with it.”
Stone thought for moment. “Oh, shit,” he said.
“I called to tell you that my people will be there within the hour to perform that service. Now, go find that tech guy and shoot him.” Lance hung up.
“Joan!” Stone yelled.
Joan stuck her head inside the door. “Yes, sir?”
“Tell the Strategic Service people that there’s an intruder in the house, disguised as one of their technical service guys, and they should apprehend or shoot him right now!”
“Holy shit!” Joan yelled, as she ran back to her office.
Stone, who had not bothered to carry a weapon, since he had had no intention of leaving the house, now opened his office safe, retrieved a Sig Arms 9mm pistol, racked the slide, grabbed a spare magazine, and sat down at his desk again, the pistol in his hand.
Joan entered, waving her .45 around. “They’re on it, boss!” she said.
“I asked you to check his ID,” Stone reminded her.
“I did. It looked good to me.”
“Lance is sending some CIA people over to check everything out. Don’t shoot them, and compare their faces to the photos on their IDs.”
“Right!”
“And keep them in your office until Frank and his partner check back with us. We don’t want them shooting the Agency people and vice versa.”
“Right.”
The outside doorbell rang. Joan ran back in that direction and then came back a couple of minutes later. “It’s the Agency people,” she said. “I checked them out, then called Lance to confirm.”