Stone Barrington 06-11

Tiffany.”
    “Oh,” Arrington said, “so that’s the fabled United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York.”
    Dino laughed. “I’m surprised she’d show her face in here.”
    “Why not?” Arrington said. “I hear she’s already shown everything else.”
    “Stop it, both of you,” Stone said through clenched teeth. “She’ll hear you.”
    “She’s really quite lovely, Stone,” Arrington said. “I hope your roll in the hay was worth the consequences.”
    “What consequences?” Dino asked.
    “From what I hear, Stone is just about the most famous man in New York, and tomorrow’s papers aren’t even out, yet.”
    “God, is there no end to this?” Stone said aloud.
    Arrington patted his hand. “Probably not, my dear, at least not until someone else does something even more outrageous, if that’s possible. Dino, do you think you could get me a copy of that videotape from that fellow in New Jersey?”

    “Just go to Google and type in ‘U.S. Attorney,’ ” Dino said. “The tape will be right at the head of the list.”
    Stone glared at him. “You sound as if you’ve already been there.”
    Dino shrugged. “A couple of guys at the precinct stumbled onto it. Several of my detectives have already ordered their personal copies. You’re their hero.”
    “I want both of you to listen to me very carefully,” Stone said, keeping his voice low and calm. “Either we are going to have a moratorium on this subject from this moment on, or the two of you can dine together without my company.” He was volcanically angry, but he was not going to allow himself to show it.
    “Why, Stone,” Arrington said, taking his hand, “you’re angry. I’ve never seen you angry before.”
    “And I hope you never do again,” Stone replied. “Now, shall we order?” He thanked God his back was to Tiff. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He ignored it.
    THEY WERE FINISHING dinner when Stone’s cell phone vibrated again, and still he ignored it. A moment later, it went off for a third time. He looked at the phone and read the number from caller ID—Lance. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” Stone said.
    “Of course,” Arrington replied.
    Stone got up and walked toward the front door, while answering his phone. “Yes?”
    “It’s Lance.”
    Stone stepped outside into the cold. “What is it?”
    “I need you right now.”
    Stone cursed under his breath. “I’m sorry, you’re breaking up.”
    “Don’t hand me that,” Lance said. “I need you right this minute. A car will pick you up in front of Elaine’s in about thirty seconds.”

    “I’m sorry, I still can’t read you,” Stone said. “Try again later.” He turned off the cell phone and walked back inside, shivering.
    “Who was it?” Arrington asked.
    “A client. We had a bad connection, so I couldn’t hear him.”
    “Do a lot of clients call you at eleven o’clock in the evening?” Arrington asked.
    “More than I would like.”
    “It’s gotta be a girl,” Dino said.
    Stone had to put a stop to this right now. “It was Lance.”
    “Lance who?” Arrington asked.
    “Lance Cabot,” Dino said. “He would be the New York station chief for the CIA, if they have a New York station.”
    “I used to know a Lance Cabot years ago,” Arrington said.
    “What did he look like?” Dino asked.
    Arrington pointed toward the front door. “Very much like that,” she said.
    Lance strode through the restaurant to the table. “Why, Arrington,” he said, his usual charming self, “how nice to see you after all these years.”
    “And you, Lance,” Arrington said, offering her hand. “I hear you’re with the CIA these days.”
    A flicker of annoyance ran across Lance’s face, but he kept his composure. He turned to Stone. “I need to speak to you outside.”
    “I’m sorry, Lance, but we’re about to have dessert,” Stone replied. “Would you like something?”
    “I’m afraid I haven’t time right now, but I do need to speak to you.”
    Stone turned to Arrington. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”
    “Of course.”
    Stone jerked his head in the direction of the mens’ room and walked back there. It was a small facility, but he checked the booth to be sure they were alone.

    Lance leaned against the door. “Now,” he said.
    “Lance, I’m having dinner with friends. You’ll have to get along without me tonight.”
    “Are you armed, Stone?” Lance asked.
    “No,” Stone replied.
    “Another