Stone Barrington 06-11

home is.”
    “And after I went to all that trouble,” she said.
    Stone frowned. “Trouble?”
    “Well, I had to, didn’t I? Daddy is nearly broke, and if he’d lost any of the lawsuits, he’d lose everything, even the house. I had to do something; then you turned up, and it became even more imperative.”
    Stone stared at her. “Jesus, Sarah, you didn’t…”
    “Didn’t I?” she asked. She kissed him and walked away.
    Dino and Erica joined Stone. “You don’t look so hot,” Dino said.
    “Just a little shaken,” Stone said.
    “What, she told you the truth?”
    “Yes, in a way; nothing that I could testify to, though.”
    “Jesus, Stone, I knew all that; why didn’t you?”
    “I guess I didn’t want to know.”
    “Yeah, you’re good at that. Come on, we’ve got a rocket ship to catch.”
    As the Concorde roared down the runway, Stone looked at Erica sitting beside him, reading a magazine. “You don’t seem terribly upset about Lance,” he said.
    She shrugged. “He told me something like this might happen someday. I’ll hear from him, eventually.”
    Stone reflected that he was finally doing what “John Bartholomew” had hired him to do: bring home Erica Burroughs. He settled into his seat. What with the time change, they’d arrive in New York before they left London.

60
    STONE WAS AWAKENED EARLY THE following morning by the telephone. For a moment he was disoriented, thinking he was at the Connaught or in the late James Cutler’s bed. He glanced at the clock; he had slept for twelve hours. “Hello?” he croaked into the phone.
    “It’s Carpenter,” she said. “You sound awful.”
    “I was asleep,” he said.
    “Oh, yes, the time difference; it’s lunchtime here.”
    “Right.”
    “Mason said you wanted an update?”
    “Yes, thanks.”
    “There’s good news and bad news; which do you want first?”
    Stone groaned. “The bad news.”
    “My management have categorically refused to reimburse you for your monetary loss. They feel no responsibility.”
    “That’s sweet of them. Tell me the good news.”
    “It comes in two parts: first, we caught Morgan in Hawaii.”
    Stone sat up in bed. “Did he have my money with him?”
    “No, he didn’t.”

    Stone fell back into the bed. “Why are you torturing me?”
    “I said the good news came in two parts.”
    “All right, what’s part two?”
    “Morgan checked in for his flight only shortly before it departed, so his luggage didn’t make it aboard the aircraft.”
    Stone sat up in bed again. “The valise?”
    “Heathrow security found it, waiting patiently to be put aboard the next flight. There was nearly half a million dollars in it.”
    “Yeeessss!” Stone shouted, punching the air.
    “It will take a little sorting out, but I imagine that, in a few days, I can transfer it to your New York bank. Do you have the account number?”
    Stone gave her his brokerage account number. “Send it there,” he said, “back where it came from.”
    “Well, I suppose you’ll be able to buy me dinner the next time I’m in New York.”
    “Yes, I suppose I will be able to afford that. Soon, I hope.”
    “You never know.”
    “What about Lance Cabot? Any word on him?”
    “He was too slick for us. The motorcycle turned out to be his; we picked up his pilot when he returned for the machine; Cabot had given it to him, apparently.”
    “What did the pilot tell you?”
    “He delivered Cabot to a farmer’s field in France, he isn’t sure where, since Cabot erased the coordinates from his GPS computer before leaving the airplane. He was met by two people, one of them answering to the description of Ali. We haven’t been able to trace him from there, so we have to assume that both he and, ah, his luggage reached their destination. We don’t know where that was.”

    “Mason said he probably wouldn’t be prosecuted.”
    “That’s right, but we would certainly make it difficult for him if he ever returned to Britain. I expect that he won’t; he’ll enjoy his ill-gotten gains in a more hospitable climate.” She paused. “Well, I must run.”
    “May I know your name, now?”
    She laughed. “All in good time. You take care of yourself.”
    “Listen, when do you think…” But she had gone.
    Stone got out of bed, and by the time he had dressed and breakfasted, his secretary was at her desk, working away.
    “Good morning!” she said. “And welcome back!”
    “Thank you, Joan,” he said. “Will you let my broker