Stone Barrington 06-11

somebody or other, the dead man, and a woman who works—worked for him.”
    “Go on.”
    “Sir Edward came down the hall looking for the men’s room. I went with him, and then the woman—”

    “Wait a minute, what woman?”
    “There was a woman sitting next to me at the bar.”
    “She was sitting next to you, or you were sitting next to her?”
    “Well…”
    “I’m glad we got that cleared up.”
    “Anyway, I went down with Sir Edward and checked out the men’s room. There was nobody in there but the attendant. I was waiting outside the door for him to finish when the woman came downstairs.”
    “Describe her.”
    “White female, thirty to forty, five-six or -seven, a hundred and thirty pounds, long, dark hair, wearing a black cocktail dress and black gloves.” He looked longingly at the glass on the bar. “A real looker.”
    “Very good description,” Dino said. “At least you learned something at the academy. What happened next?”
    “She asked me if I was armed, and I showed her my gun. She pulled a black, small-caliber pistol with a silencer from her handbag, took my gun, and pushed me ahead of her into the vestibule inside the men’s-room door. She must have clocked me with either her weapon or mine. I passed out. When I came to, she hit me again. I only woke up five minutes ago, and I got on my radio.”
    “So where are all your people?”
    “On the way.”
    Dino looked at the back of the man’s head. “Get him to a hospital,” he said to the EMT. “He’s going to need lots of stitches.”

    The EMT and his partner escorted the agent down the stairs; Dino and Stone followed. They had only just seen him into an ambulance when a procession of dark vans drove into the block, and men in body armor and helmets, carrying automatic weapons, began spilling out of them, “FBI” emblazoned on their backs.
    Dino stood in front of the door and held up his badge. “NYPD,” he said. “Who’s in command?”
    A man in a suit got out of the front seat of a van and walked over, flashing his ID. “I’m Jim Torrelli, agent-in-charge of the New York office of the FBI,” he said. “You’re in the way of my men.”
    “No, I’m not,” Dino replied. “ They’re in the way of this city’s traffic. Please get them out of here.”
    “We have a crime scene to secure,” the man said.
    “It’s an NYPD crime scene, and it’s already secured,” Dino replied, not budging.
    “We have an injured FBI agent in there,” Torrelli said.
    “No, you don’t. He’s already on the way to a hospital. There are no other FBI personnel inside, just two murder victims, and murder, if I may remind you, is not a federal crime. Now, if you want to hang around and see what happens, you may do so at my invitation, but don’t get in my way, and get these storm troopers out of here, now. ”
    Torrelli thought about it for a moment. “Everybody back in the vehicles,” he said. “Return to base and wait for my call.” The men got back in the vans and drove away. “Now, Detective…”
    “ Lieutenant Bacchetti,” Dino said, “commander of the detective squad at the Nineteenth Precinct.”

    “Can you tell me what happened here?”
    “Yeah. The director of the FBI and his deputy took the head of British Intelligence and his colleague out to dinner, guarded by two FBI agents. The Brit went to the men’s room, and a young woman hit one of the agents over the head and shot the Brit and the men’s-room attendant. She left the premises. That’s all I’ve got, at the moment, but when we’re done here, there ought to be enough embarrassment for the FBI to last for years.”
    Torrelli’s jaw began to work, but he managed to get a few words out. “Has the young woman been apprehended?”
    “No, and I don’t expect she will be right away.”
    “Has she been identified?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who is she?”
    “I’m not at liberty to give you that information at the moment. Maybe later.”
    “Lieutenant, if I have to go to the commissioner or the mayor himself, I’m going to know everything there is to know about this case.”
    “I’ll send you a copy of my report,” Dino said. “Now why don’t you go up to the bar and have a drink. We don’t need you right now.”
    “Can I see the bodies?”
    “They’re dead. Two slugs in the Brit, one in the attendant. That’s all you need to know.”
    “I’d like to put the FBI crime lab at your disposal,” the agent said.
    “From what I’ve heard about