Stone Barrington 06-11

drink?”
    “Thank you, I already have a drink. And my date will be arriving in a few minutes.”
    “May we talk until then?”
    “All right.”
    “My name is Burt Pence,” he said, offering his hand. “And yours?”
    “Elvira Moore,” she replied, shaking his hand.
    He moved the fifty away from the bartender, toward her purse. “Please put this away,” he said. “This is on me.”
    Marie-Thérèse picked up the fifty and stuck it into her large handbag, which rested on the stool next to her. “Thank you, Burt. Tell me, what sort of work do you do?”
    “I’m an FBI agent,” Burt replied.
    “Oh, sure. I’ve heard that one before.”
    Burt reached into an inside pocket, produced a wallet, opened it, and laid it on the bar.
    “Oh, my, you’re telling the truth,” she said, picking up the wallet and examining it. “What on earth are you doing at the Four Seasons? I hope you’re on an expense account.”
    “Actually, I’m not dining this evening,” Burt replied. “I’m on duty.”
    “Really?” She tried to look very interested. “What sort of duty?”

    Burt looked slyly from side to side, as if he feared being overheard. “I’m protecting the director of the FBI and the head of British intelligence.”
    Marie-Thérèse looked around. “Where are they?”
    “In the other dining room, down the hallway. My partner is on duty in there.”
    “What are you protecting them from?”
    “Oh, nothing in particular. I mean, there’s no specific threat at this time, but the director always has a bodyguard.”
    “I see. What about those people there?” She nodded at a couple who had come up the stairs and were being escorted down the hallway. “Would they be a threat?”
    Burt looked down the hallway at their backs. “Probably not, but my partner will observe their actions in the dining room.” He suddenly stood up. “Uh-oh, you’re going to have to excuse me.”
    Marie-Thérèse looked down the hallway to see Sir Edward Fieldstone walking briskly toward them.
    “That’s my British subject,” Burt said out of the corner of his mouth. “Probably going to the can.”
    “Well, you’d better go and hold his… hand,” she said, laughing.
    Sir Edward started down the stairs, and Burt fell in behind him.
    Marie-Thérèse put her fifty back on the bar and hopped down from her stool. She began walking down the stairs and stopped on the landing. Sir Edward was standing outside the men’s room, and Burt was nowhere to be seen. Then Burt came out the door, nodding, and held it open for Sir Edward, who disappeared inside. Burt took up his station outside the door.
    Marie-Thérèse walked quickly down the stairs and over to Burt.
    “What, you’re leaving?” he asked. “I’ll be right back.”
    “My date called me on my cell phone and canceled,” she replied.
    “I’m off in a couple of hours,” he said. “Want to meet somewhere?”
    Marie-Thérèse looked around. The coat-check girl had momentarily disappeared. “Are you carrying a gun, Burt?”
    Burt grinned and opened his jacket, revealing a 9mm semiautomatic.
    “Oh, good,” she said, sticking her silenced pistol into his ribs and backing him against the wall. “I’ll have that, Burt.” She pulled his pistol from its holster. “Now, let’s go to the men’s room.” She shoved him with her gun barrel.
    “Hey, lady, what’s going on?” Burt asked, as if she were joking. But he went through the door into a little vestibule.
    Marie-Thérèse hit him, hard, in the back of the head with his own pistol, then tossed it onto his crumpled form. “Sorry about that, Burt.” She pushed open the door to find Sir Edward standing at a sink, washing his hands. An attendant stood by with a towel. She shot the attendant first, to get Sir Edward’s attention.
    Sir Edward stood up straight, holding his wet hands out before him. “No, no,” he said. “I paid the money, really I did.”
    “A liar to the end,” she said, and shot him once in the chest. He fell to the floor, then she walked over and put a round into his head.
    She dropped the pistol into her bag, left the men’s room, stepping over Burt’s inert form in the vestibule. He began to stir. She thought about it, then picked up his pistol and hit him with it again. “This is your lucky day, Burt.” Then she peeked out the door. The entrance hall was empty. She walked casually from the men’s room and out the front doors, looking for her car. Spotting it near the corner,