“I will certainly have that done,” she said. “I’d like you to handle the task on this side of the water.”
“I will be happy to accept a new assignment,” Stone said, “just as soon as I’ve been paid for the previous one.”
“Your fee was predicated on success,” she pointed out, “and we have not confirmed who, if anyone, is buried in that churchyard on Mount Desert Island.”
“I’ve given you photographs of the body, a death certificate and his fingerprints. What more could anyone ask? If the prints aren’t Whitestone’s, then we can talk,” Stone said. “You can open the grave and examine the corpse if you like, after having obtained the proper permissions, of course. But…” He leaned forward for effect. “… if the fingerprints fit, you must remit. Agreed?”
“Spare me the Johnny Cochranisms, please,” she said.
“Spare me a hundred thousand quid,” he replied.
“Give me your bill,” she said, “made out to the Foreign Office. If the prints are Whitestone’s, I’ll countersign it and submit it. You should have your check in a few weeks.”
“Weeks?” Stone asked. “I have incurred considerable out-of-pocket expenses, mainly surveillance, both electronic and manned.”
“I’ll need the tapes for our files,” she said.
“You may have them tomorrow,” he replied, “and I would be grateful if you would see that payment is expedited.” He took his checkbook from his pocket, tore out a check, voided it and handed it to Felicity. “You may wire-transfer the funds, in dollars, to this account, using the current exchange rate.”
She added his check to her briefcase. “I’m starved,” she said, and they ordered dinner.
“Hackett knew I was working for you,” Stone said, when the waiter had left.
She looked at him askance. “You told him?”
“No, Lord Wight told him of meeting us together, and he figured it out. When he asked me, I did not confirm it.”
“I don’t like someone like James Hackett knowing about this.”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have taken me to that dinner party,” Stone replied. “By the way, did you ever figure out who the VIP was who deserved to be served the Krug?”
“I expect it must have been Wight,” she said. “No one else there was of much importance.”
“Bill Eggers tells me that Wight’s reputation is better here than at home.”
“At home, his past is no more than a smudge on his copybook,” she said. “He’s been back in business for a while, now.”
“Well, now we know that he was in touch with Whitestone right up until his death.”
“Yes. He lied about that, didn’t he? Said he thought Whitestone was in Cairo, when he had actually recommended him for a job with Hackett, and under an assumed name, too.”
“Is there a crime in there somewhere?” Stone asked.
“No, it’s not criminal to conceal the identity of a former member of the service, and we can’t prove that he did anything criminal in conjunction with Whitestone.”
“Hackett was curious about why the Foreign Office is still interested in Whitestone. I’m curious, too. Did the inquiry originate with them or with you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
Stone smiled a little. “Well, Hackett offered to hire me to find out.”
She looked at him, shocked.
“I declined, of course,” he said quickly.
“I should certainly hope so,” she said. Then, looking thoughtful, she added, “I wonder why Hackett wonders why the F.O. is still interested in Whitestone.”
“Maybe Whitestone isn’t dead,” Stone said. “Maybe the photos were faked. Hackett said he wanted to hire Whitestone-though he said he didn’t know who he was at the time-to represent his company in the Middle East. Maybe Whitestone is, at this moment, representing his company in the Middle East.”
“I want to know more,” Felicity said.
“Look, Hackett is a very smart man. If he’s protecting Whitestone by faking his death, you may be sure that all the people you want talked to in Maine have been bought.”
“Or,” Felicity said, “perhaps, Hackett and/or Whitestone found a look-alike, murdered him, battered the body and buried him, first taking photographs and Whitestone’s fingerprints. In that case, he wouldn’t need to buy anybody, would he?”
“There are all sorts of possibilities.”
Felicity nodded. “And I don’t like it when there are all sorts of possibilities.”
31
When Stone awoke the following morning, Felicity’s side of the bed was empty. Before he could order breakfast, she returned.
“I’ve used your scanner,” she said. “The fingerprints are Whitestone’s.”
“You’ll have my bill before noon,” Stone said. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Two fried eggs, wheat toast and blood sausage, please. And English breakfast tea.”
“I don’t believe we stock blood sausage,” Stone replied. “God, but that’s a disgustingly British thing to eat at breakfast.”
“All right, any sort of sausage.”
Stone got Helene on the intercom and ordered for both of them.
“I’ll expedite your check,” Felicity said, “but there’s one more thing I want you to do for me.”
“What’s that?”
“I want you to obtain James Hackett’s fingerprints.”
“He’s a naturalized citizen; they’ll be in the FBI database.”
“No. I want you to obtain them directly from the source.”
“Oh, I see. You want me to go over to his office, hold him down and print him?”
“I would be grateful if you could be more subtle than that.”
Stone thought about it. “All right, let’s invite him to dinner.”
“Here?”
“Why not? I have a dining room, a kitchen and a cook. At a restaurant I might have trouble confiscating his wineglass.”
“All right,” she said.
“And you must be here.”
“Why on earth should I be here?”
“Because it will guarantee his acceptance. If he’s Whitestone, it will be an opportunity to demonstrate his invulnerability to your identifying him.”
“Oh, all right. Who else will you ask?”
“I think Bill Eggers. It would be an opportunity for them to get to know each other better.”
“You need one more couple.”
“How about Dino?”
“Why Dino?”
“Why not? Hackett, being in the business he’s in, would love to get to know an NYPD lieutenant.”
“We need someone who’s not a drinking buddy of yours.”
“Do you have a request?”
“You know the former police commissioner, don’t you?”
“Yes, we have a cordial acquaintanceship. It might be a little uncomfortable, though.”
“Why?”
“He’s married to a woman I, ah, knew… rather well.”
“Ask him, and get over it.”
