lips move and know he was talking to someone.
The black SUV suddenly accelerated and pulled ahead of him. “Now they’re checking us out in their mirrors,” he said, attempting ventriloquism.
She stopped for a moment. “Who cares?” she asked, then resumed.
Stone tried to focus on the rear of the SUV. It was a Porsche Cayenne Turbo; no wonder it was so quick. Then, without much warning, he climaxed.
Carla kept going for a minute, then pulled back and dabbed at him with a tissue. “There, dear, is that better?”
“It is incomparably better,” Stone said, panting, “but you still have to keep down.”
Then the Cayenne accelerated as if shot from a cannon and flew off at the next exit.
“I think we’re safe, now,” Stone said. “You can come up for air.”
Carla rezipped him, sat up and checked herself in the vanity mirror, dabbing at her lipstick. “You owe me one,” she said.
Stone patted her on the knee. “And you shall be repaid in full, my dear.”
“And in kind, I hope.”
“Whatever your heart desires.”
“We’re not talking about my heart.”
“Whatever the relevant part of you desires.”
“That’s more like it.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t drive into the Hudson,” Stone said. “In fact, I’m still a little woozy.”
“Oh, I knew you’d maintain control of yourself.”
“I don’t think I would have described myself as in control.”
“It’s wonderful how men can do it anywhere, like dogs.”
“You were doing the doing; I was just hanging on for dear life.”
“I suppose you could look at it that way,” she said. “How soon will you be able to do it again?”
“Not until I’m out of the car,” Stone said, “and indoors.”
“Don’t you like sex outdoors?”
“I prefer beds or bearskin rugs before fires.”
“Does your house have a bearskin rug before a fire?”
“It has a fireplace.”
She sighed. “Well, I guess that will just have to do.”
31
Stone kept checking his mirror, looking for the black Cayenne, and once, near Bedford, he turned off the Sawmill River Parkway and stopped for gas, while telling Carla to keep down. He saw no pursuer during the six-minute stop, so when they were back on the Sawmill, he gave Carla the all clear again.
She sat up. “I think I’m beginning to like it down there,” she said. “I was almost asleep.”
Stone continued up I-684 to I-84, after which they were on country roads. He stopped occasionally to check for a tail but saw only weekenders with New York plates, their cars stuffed with pumpkins and overpriced antiques, wending their way back to their very expensive cottages.
Finally, they arrived in Washington and drove down little streets choked with gold and red leaves to his own cottage. He pulled into the driveway and behind the hedge, now concealed from the road. “Stay here for just a minute while I check the house,” he said.
“Oh, all right,” she replied, “but very soon I’m going to want a drink.”
“Very soon,” he said, getting out of the car and unlocking the front door. The alarm system beeped at him, and he entered his code. Alarmingly, it continued to beep. He reentered the code, the only code he had ever had for this house, and without so much as taking another breath, a loud, electronic beep began screeching, and an even louder siren began to wail. He stepped outside the door and yelled to Carla. “It’s all right; just wait a minute.” He stepped back inside to hear the phone ringing and picked it up.
“Hello.”
“This is Litchfield Security. To whom am I speaking?”
“This is Stone Barrington.” He gave the man the cancellation code, and a moment later, the noise stopped. “My code didn’t work,” he said.
“What code are you using?”
Stone told him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Barrington, but that is not the code programmed into your system.”
“Then somebody has changed it, because I’ve never had another code for this system.”
“No one here has changed your code, sir.”
“Well, please change it back.”
“What was the original code?”
Stone told him.
“You wish to use that?”
“Yes, please.”
“May I have your social security number and your mother’s maiden name for identification purposes?”
Stone gave them to him.
“One moment, please.”
Stone stood waiting, tapping his foot.
“Mr. Barrington, your code has been reinstated. I’m sorry for the difficulty.”
“But you have no idea how it got changed?”
“No, sir. It can be changed from your keypad, but that requires the original code.”
“Thank you,” Stone said, then hung up. He stepped outside the door. “Okay, Carla, we’re all right now,” he called. He opened the trunk with his key and brought their bags inside. “Here we are.”
“It’s lovely,” she said. “Now can I have a drink? That bourbon you like, perhaps?”
Stone poured her a drink, then took their bags upstairs and returned to pour himself one.
Carla was sitting on the living room sofa. “It’s very pretty, fresh flowers and all.”
“The housekeeper,” Stone said. “Do you mind if I make a quick phone call?”
“Of course not, as long as it’s not for phone sex.”
Stone laughed, sat down beside her, picked up the phone and called Bob Cantor.
“Cantor.”
“Bob, I’ve just arrived at the Connecticut house, and my alarm code didn’t work. Somehow, it had been changed. Do you have any idea how that could have happened? I mean, you installed the system, after all.”
“A very sophisticated electronics nut could use a small instrument to read your code and change it,” he said. “He would have to change the code to get past your system, then change it back before he left.”
“He didn’t change it back.”
“Then one of two things happened: Either he forgot to change it back, or he wanted you to know he had been there.”
“Why would he want that?”
“Just to annoy you, probably, and to make you feel unsafe in your own house.”
“How can I prevent this happening again?”
“I have a modified circuit card that can be installed in your keypad that will make the alarm go off immediately if he should try it again. It won’t even wait the usual thirty seconds.”
“When can you install it?”
“How soon do you want it done?”
“As soon as possible.”
“I can drive up there now, if you like, but you’re going to have to buy me dinner and put me up for the night.”
