The Short Forever

                        “I know a place; we’ll order in. It’s all right, is it, that we have dinner here?”

                        “Yes, of course, but order for three; my friend Dino is upstairs asleep.”

                        “May I use the phone? My department frowns on the use of secure cellphones for ordering Chinese.”

                        “Sure, there’s one in the kitchen.”

                        “It will be an hour or so,” she said. “The restaurant is in Gerard Street, in Soho, not far from my, ah, place of business; they’ll send it over in a taxi.”

                        “Do I pay the driver when he arrives?”

                        “No, it’s already been charged to a business account.”

                        “For future reference, what’s the restaurant?”

                        “The Dumpling Inn. It’s good for a quick before-the-ater dinner, a short block off Shaftsbury Avenue.”

                        “I’ll make a note,” he said, “for a future trip. Would you like a drink while we wait?”

                        “Thank you, yes; is there any bourbon?”

                        Stone went to a liquor cabinet across the room and found a bottle of Knob Creek. “Yes, and a good one. Where would a proper, Oxford-educated Englishwoman acquire a taste for bourbon?”

                        “I did some training in Virginia, near Washington.”

                        “At the Farm?”

                        “How did you know that?” she demanded.

                        “Lance Cabot told me he spent some time there.”

                        “True; he was in the class just a year ahead of mine; we heard about him.”

                        “Was Stan Hedger running the place then?”

                        “Yes; you do know a lot, don’t you?”

                        “Not a lot. Just enough to sound knowledgeable. Ice?”

                        “Yes, please; I learned that in Virginia, too.”

                        There was an ice machine built into the cabinet; Stone returned with the two drinks and sat down. They clinked glasses.

                        “Mmmm, good one,” she said. “I’ve never heard of it.”

                        “It’s one of a rash of boutique bourbons that have cropped up the past few years. Sort of like your single-malt Scotches.”

                        Her cellphone rang. “Yes? Well, give the man priority. Try and have it done before he gets home. You’ll just have to do the other one while the house is occupied; it must be done as soon as possible.” She hung up. “Mason is bringing more personnel up from our Portsmouth office, but right now we’ve only enough people to wire one house, and I’ve chosen the man, since he’s working late in the lab.”

                        “Probably getting his device ready to sell.”

                        “Probably.”

                        “Did you enjoy the training at the Farm?”

                        She smiled. “I adored it, the rougher the better. I’m quite a tomboy, you know. I grew up outdoors, around horses, played polo. At school, I was a vicious lacrosse player; had a terrible reputation among our opponents.”

                        “I expect your people liked that about you, when you were being considered for your work.”

                        “No, I think they would have preferred me working in a code room, or something else less masculine. Mason has been working for me for two years, and he’s never really become accustomed to being bossed around by a woman. That’s one reason I let him take the lead with you; good for his ego.”

                        “You’re not married?”

                        She held up a bare ring finger. “How very observant of you.”

                        “Oh, I’m real quick.”

                        “Marriage would be difficult. If I married inside my organization there would be the problem of arranging compatible postings, office politics, all that. If I married outside, I’d probably have to resign.”

                        “Why?”

                        “Oh, many of our male employees are married to civilians, their wives having been well vetted, of course. But for our management, it doesn’t seem to work both ways. There’d still be the problem of postings, and they’d be fearful of an officer having to rush home and cook dinner for her husband. And, of course, children would be an unbearable complication. I love the work so much, I rather think I won’t marry.”

                        Dino appeared, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked.

                        “Not a lot. You up for Chinese?”

                        “I’m always up for Chinese,” Dino replied.

                 Chapter 51

                        THEY DINED FROM CARDBOARD CARTONS on Wedgwood plates. The food was superb, and Stone had found a dry, white Bordeaux in James Cutler’s cellar that was a perfect companion to Chinese food. Among the three of them, they managed two bottles.

                        Stone’s cellphone rang. “Hello?”

                        “Hi, it’s me,” Lance’s voice said.

                        “Lance,” Stone mouthed to Carpenter. She came and put her ear next to his.

                        “What’s up? Everything on schedule?”

                        “Did you wire the funds into the Swiss account?”

                        “Yes; they would have been there before the close of business.”

                        “Good; then we’re a go.”

                        “When is the buy going to take place?”

                        “The evening of the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow morning I have to arrange for the cash to be transported from Zurich to England. You’ll wire it to an account in Belgium, and it will be across the Channel as quickly as possible. I’ll give you the wiring instructions tomorrow morning, so don’t be far from your cellphone.”

                        “Lance, I want to be there for the buy.”

                        Lance was quiet for a moment. “That isn’t necessary,” he said.

                        “It’s necessary for me. I don’t want to be separated from my money.”

                        Lance laughed. “All right; we’ll arrange to meet west of London; I’ll give you an address.”

                        “Why don’t you just pick me up?”

                        “Because I won’t be returning to London after the buy; you’ll need transportation. Believe me, this is the best way to do it.”

                        “If you say so.”

                        “I’ll call you at nine o’clock tomorrow morning with the wiring instructions.”

                        “All right, good night.”

                        “Good night.”

                        Stone punched off the phone. “What do you think?”

                        “I’m not sure,” she said. “Let’s wait until you hear from him with the wiring instructions. By that time, I’ll have the funds available to make the transfer. We’ll wire them to your Swiss account, and then you can forward them to the Belgian account. That way it will look entirely kosher. You’ll have to sign for the funds, of course.” She smiled. “We can’t have you running off with our money.”

                        “Suppose I did?”

                        “I’d hunt you down; you couldn’t hide for long.”

                        “I don’t think I’d want you on my trail,” Stone said.

                        Carpenter looked at her watch. “I have to go home and get some sleep.”