this exchange of raincoats happened.”
“Let me tell you a bit more,” Throckmorton said. “The passports found on the men were counterfeits. Does that help jog your memory?”
“I know nothing of false passports,” Stone said.
“Let me see yours.”
Stone went to his briefcase, got his passport, and handed it over.
Throckmorton examined it closely, then he took two passports from his pocket and compared them. “It says here that this passport was issued only a few days ago at the American Embassy in London.”
“That’s correct; when I arrived in this country, an immigration officer told me that my passport was expiring the following day.”
“You didn’t know that?”
“No. I hadn’t used the passport for several months; it didn’t occur to me to look at the expiration date. I went to the embassy, as the officer suggested, and got a new one.”
“And where is your old one?”
“The passport office kept it.”
“And I’m keeping yours,” Throckmorton said, tucking all three passports into his pocket.
“Suppose I have to leave the country?”
“You will not leave the country until I say so,” Throckmorton said, rising. “One last time, Stone; is there anything you wish to tell me?”
“No.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Throckmorton said. He walked out of the room, taking both raincoats with him.
Stone sat down heavily and loosened his necktie. “Jesus Christ,” he said aloud, “how could I have made such a stupid mistake?” He laid his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.
What seemed only a moment later, Stone jerked awake. Had he dozed off? Then he remembered that Arrington was downstairs in the restaurant. He ran to the elevator, buttoning his shirt and fixing his necktie; when he reached the ground floor, he tried not to run to the restaurant. From the door he could see that the table was empty.
“Mr. Barrington?” Mister Chevalier said.
“Yes? Where is Mrs. Calder?”
“I’m afraid she left a few minutes ago; she went to the lounge to look for you but could not find you, so she got her coat and left.” Chevalier looked at his watch. “You were gone for nearly an hour,” he said, with barely noticeable reproach.
“Oh, God,” Stone moaned.
“We have kept your dinner warm,” Chevalier said. “Would you still like to have it, or would you prefer to order something else?”
Stone stared at the paneling ahead of him, wondering how he was ever going to fix this.
“Mr. Barrington?”
“Oh. Will you send it to my suite, please?”
“Of course; and Mrs. Calder’s dinner?”
“Give it to the cat,” Stone said. He turned and trudged disconsolately to the elevator.
Upstairs, he got out the London telephone directory and looked for the ambassador’s residence; he found it under U.S. Government and dialed the number.
“Good evening,” a young male voice said, “this is the residence of the United States Ambassador.” Probably a marine.
“My name is Barrington,” Stone said. “May I speak with Mrs. Arrington Calder? She’s a guest of the ambassador.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Barrington, Mrs. Calder has asked me not to put any calls through.”
“Would you tell her I called, please?” He gave the Connaught’s number.
“Of course, sir; good night.”
There was a sharp rap on his door, and he went to answer it. His dinner had arrived, and he didn’t feel like eating it.
Chapter 39
STONE, HAVING LAIN AWAKE UNTIL the middle of the night, slept as if drugged. It was mid-morning before he woke up, and his first move was to call the embassy residence again and ask for Arrington. There was a long delay, then a woman came on the line.
“Stone?”
“Arrington, I’m so sorry, I—”
“Stone, it’s Barbara Wellington.”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were Arrington. I’ve been trying to reach her; she wasn’t taking calls last night.”
“I know; she came home very hurt and angry last night; she said you had abandoned her in the middle of dinner at the Connaught. What happened?”
“Some people showed up that I absolutely had to see, and—”
“She also said that when she got up to go to the ladies’ she saw you kissing another woman in the Connaught lobby, so when you reach her, I don’t think you ought to try and pass that off as business.”
“It
“And when she came back from the ladies’ you had disappeared, and the concierge said you had gone up to your suite with a guest.”
“With three guests—they insisted. You see—”
“Stone, it’s not I you have to convince, so save your strength.”
“May I speak to Arrington, please?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Barbara, please just tell her there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for—”
“Stone, Arrington has gone.”
“Gone where? Where can I reach her?”
“To New York; she left here about twenty minutes ago for Heathrow. I think she’ll be staying at the Carlyle. If I were you, I’d go after her, get the next plane.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that—”
“You’re going to have to resolve this face-to-face.”
“How long did you say she’d been gone?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“What airline?”
“British Airways.”
“Do you know the flight number?”
“No, but it leaves around noon, I think. You have to be there early these days, because of all the security stuff.”
“Thank you, Barbara.” Stone hung up, then picked up the phone again. “Please ask the doorman to get me a cab for Heathrow immediately,” he said to the operator. “I’ll be right down.”
He threw on some clothes and, unshaven and unshowered, ran for the elevator. The doorman had the cab door open as he came through the revolving door, and he dove into the rear seat.
“Heathrow, is it, sir?” the cabbie asked.
