Stone - 25 - Collateral Damage

why else would you want to do terrible things to me in bed?”
    “When are you coming?”
    “I’m already in town, but I have some calls to make. I’ll be at your place around seven.”
    “Use your key. I’ll be upstairs.”
    Stone called Dino and Mike; the mention of the White House got their attention and their consent to travel and their promise to shut up about it.
    —
    Holly let herself into Stone’s house a little after seven and took the elevator up to the master suite. “Hello? Anybody there?”
    “I’m in the shower,” Stone yelled back. “Join me or make yourself at home.”
    Holly stripped off her clothes, threw them on a chair, and joined him. Big hug, big kiss.
    “What brings you to town?” Stone asked, scrubbing her back with a soft brush.
    “You do. You and Kelli Keane.”
    “Are you sleeping with her, too?”
    “Nope, just you. She and I had a chat.”
    “Uh-oh.”
    “Exactly.”
    “I had that chat with her in L.A.”
    “The director was anxious that your suggestions to her be underlined in a memorable way.”
    “Did you slap her around?”
    “It didn’t come to that—she got the message.”
    “But you would have slapped her around, if she had been slow to catch on?”
    “I don’t slap people around, I have people who handle that sort of thing.” She was scrubbing his back, now, then his front. “I see that I have excited your interest,” she said, stroking him to fullness.
    “You are very perceptive.”
    “Are we clean enough now?”
    “I believe we are.”
    Holly turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and toweled herself, then she grabbed a dry bath sheet and worked on Stone.
    “This is the most fun I’ve had for some time,” Stone said.
    “Stick around,” she said, “it’s going to get better.” And she was right.
    —
    When they had exhausted themselves, then showered off the sweat, Holly sat on the bed, toweling her hair. “Where are we dining?”
    “The Four Seasons all right?”
    “That seedy old joint? I wish we could go to Elaine’s.”
    “So do I, but in the circumstances, the Four Seasons will have to do.”
    —
    They dined for two hours at one of the world’s most elegant restaurants, then returned to Stone’s house for a repeat performance of their earlier assignation.
    “Holly,” Stone said when they had finished, “is something bad going to happen?”
    “I and my people work hard every day to see that nothing bad happens, and we’re good at it.”
    “I feel so much better,” Stone said, snuggling up to her and falling asleep.

The group convened at the East Side Heliport in time to see the sleek new helicopter set down.
    “Wow,” Stone said, “what is that?”
    “I know what it is,” Mike Freeman said. “We’ve already ordered one.” Mike was the CEO of Strategic Services, the largest private security firm in the world, and he often knew about things like this before others did.
    “Why am I not surprised?” Stone asked.
    Holly directed Stone to the left cockpit seat, while she sat in the rear with Dino and Mike.
    Stone looked at the instrument panel and controls. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you how all this stuff works,” he said to the pilot.
    “Thanks,” the pilot replied, running through a checklist. “Ever flown a helicopter?”
    “Once,” Stone said. “I’d rather not think about it.”
    The engines revved, and the chopper leaped off the pad and turned down the East River, gaining altitude quickly. Next thing Stone knew they were over Cape May and turning for Washington.
    The pilot was constantly on the radio, and Stone could hear the conversations on his headset. It was obvious that this was no ordinary flight; they were getting special treatment from Air Traffic Control.
    “How do I get them to talk to me like that when I’m flying my Citation Mustang?” Stone asked.
    “Easy—just have the White House file your flight plan.”
    They had descended rapidly over the city, and Stone saw the White House directly ahead. A crowd was gathered under the West Wing portico, and someone was speaking into a small forest of microphones.
    “That press conference is for your benefit,” the pilot said. “Keeps the press around that side while I’m unloading you on the presidential pad.”
    Then the helicopter was on the ground, and they were hurrying toward a door held open by a Secret Service agent. Shortly, they were in the Oval Office, where menus from the White House Mess were