Stone Barrington 06-11

the ballistics didn’t match the slug from the diplomatic killing, and she didn’t use a gun on the others.”
    “I’m very sorry to hear it,” Mason said.
    “On top of everything else, she stole the pistol back from the police, walked right out of the precinct with it in her handbag.”
    “So where we are now sounds very much like square one.”
    “Very much.”
    “Architect will not be amused.”
    “Well, no. Get some sleep, Mason. We’ll speak in the morning.”
    “Where are you?”
    “At Barrington’s house.”
    “I’ll send some people over.”
    “Don’t bother. I think we’re safe for tonight.”
    “Good night, then.”
    “Good night.”
    Stone and Carpenter hung up.
    “I loved your house in Connecticut,” she said.

    Marie-Thérèse let herself into the twenty-four-hour-a-day storage facility, went to her closet, and unlocked the door, closing it behind her. The space was about eight by ten feet, much like a prison cell, she thought. She stripped down to the skin, took a fur coat from a rack of clothes, and spread it on the floor. She found another coat and wrapped herself in it, then lay down on the fur coat.
    Now she had used her most valuable, most hoarded resource: her own identity. She would not be able to use it again. Not, she thought, unless they were so stupid as not to enter it into their computers and send it to Interpol.
    She fell asleep thinking of the baby she had held in her lap all the way across the Atlantic.

34
    Five men and four women got off a Concorde flight at JFK and got into two waiting vans. The driver of one handed one of the men a cell phone. “Just hold down the number one, sir.”
    He held down the number one, then put the phone to his ear.
    “Trading Partners,” a woman’s voice said.
    “Do you know who this is?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “We’re en route. I want a meeting in one hour, with everybody, and I mean everybody. ”
    “I understand, sir. I’ve been holding the conference room.”
    “Good.” He snapped the phone shut and handed it back to the driver.
    “It’s yours, sir, while you’re here,” the driver said.
    Architect put the phone in his pocket and turned his attention to The New York Times.

    The phone rang in Stone’s bedroom. “Hello?” he said sleepily, glancing at the clock.

    “Miss Carpenter, please,” a woman’s voice said.
    Stone shook Carpenter awake. “Call for you,” he said.
    “What time is it?” Carpenter asked, rolling over and picking up the extension.
    Stone hung up his phone. “A little after two P . M . We slept pretty good.”
    “Hello?”
    “Architect has arrived. There’s a meeting here at three,” the woman said. “Attendance is mandatory.”
    “Right,” Carpenter said. She hung up. “I’ve got to get into a shower,” she said to Stone. “My boss is in from London.” She tossed off the covers and ran for the bathroom. “Any chance of some lunch?”
    Stone went down to the kitchen and made a couple of ham sandwiches and brought them back upstairs. Carpenter came out of the shower, toweling her hair dry around the edges.
    “That looks good,” she said, grabbing a sandwich and taking a huge bite.
    “So, what’s this meeting going to be about?” Stone asked.
    “I think you can guess.”
    “How the hell are you ever going to find her?” he asked.
    “We’ll find her, and we’ll deal with her,” Carpenter replied, her mouth full. She went back into the bathroom, taking her sandwich with her.
    Stone picked up the phone and called Dino.
    “Bacchetti.”
    “You had lunch?”
    “I missed it,” Dino said.

    “Clarke’s in half an hour?”
    “You buying?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then let’s make it the Four Seasons.” Dino hung up.
    Stone went to his own bathroom and got into the shower. Twenty minutes later, he stood on his doorstep with Carpenter.
    “Dinner?” he asked.
    “I’ll have to call you,” she replied, kissing him. She ran down the steps and turned toward Third Avenue.
    Stone turned toward Park.

    The last of the lunch crowd lingered over their espressos in the Grill Room of the Four Seasons. Getting a table was easy, since half the crowd had gone back to their offices. Stone and Dino ordered salads and omelettes and a couple of glasses of wine.
    “How’d La Biche come to be in Elaine’s at exactly the time you were?” Stone asked.
    “She came in looking for you.”
    “What?”
    “I kid you not. She came in, took a seat at the bar, ordered dinner, and whipped out