Stone Barrington 06-11

airport?”
    “Waterbury-Oxford. It has a five-thousand-foot runway and jet fuel.”
    “All right,” she said. She got up and went to the phone again. She made two calls and returned. “We’re in luck; the Centurion airplane is landing in Washington in an hour, after a flight from L.A. They’ll refuel and go directly to Charlottesville, where Peter and his nanny will be waiting for them.”
    Stone shoveled down the last of his eggs. “Then let’s get moving.”

38
    STONE CHECKED OUT the bellman through the peephole, then let him enter and take the luggage. He called the garage and asked them to have his car ready, then instructed the bellman to precede them and load the luggage. They waited five minutes, then, with Stone going first, his hand under his jacket on his gun, made their way down the hall and into the elevator.
    Stone asked Arrington to remain on the elevator while he checked out the lobby, then he escorted her quickly to the garage, where the car was waiting, its motor running. He tipped everybody, then got moving. He drove around the block twice to be sure he was not being followed, then crossed the park at Seventy-second Street, made his way to the West Side Highway, then north to the Saw Mill River Parkway.
    “How long have you had this car?” Arrington asked. It was the first time she had spoken.
    “Three years, I guess.”
    “It seems very powerful.”
    “It is; it’s the E55 model, with the AMG-tuned engine, the fastest Mercedes made. And it has the advantage of being armored.”
    “ Armored? Did you anticipate events?”
    “No, it was serendipitous. I arrived at the dealership as they were wheeling it in. It had been ordered by an Italian-American gentleman, who felt he had enemies, but the car arrived exactly one day too late. His widow asked the dealer to resell it, and I couldn’t resist.”
    “How armored?”
    “It’ll stop small-arms fire.”
    “That’s comforting to know, in the circumstances.” Then she went quiet again.
    Stone took the Saw Mill all the way to I-684, then to I-84 and thence to exit 16. A left turn from the ramp took them to Oxford airport in two minutes. He checked his watch. They had been on the road for an hour and forty-five minutes. “We’ll have a wait,” he said.
    They made themselves comfortable in the little terminal, and an hour and a half later, the GIV, with the trademark Roman centurion on its tail, touched down and taxied to the terminal. The engines died, and the door opened. The first person out was a small boy in a blue overcoat, carrying a small suitcase in one hand and a Gameboy in the other.
    As Peter rushed into his mother’s arms, Stone was struck by his appearance—dark hair, handsome face—and it suddenly occurred to him that Peter Calder, ostensibly the son of Vance Calder, bore an uncanny resemblance to Malon Barrington, Stone’s father.
    “Peter,” Arrington said, “I want you to meet a very good friend of mine. This is Stone Barrington.”
    Peter extended his hand and said gravely, “How do you do, Mr. Barrington?”
    “Hello, Peter,” Stone said, taking the boy’s tiny hand, “and please call me Stone.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Peter replied.
    Arrington then introduced Ilsa, the knockout Swedish nanny, and a moment later, they were headed north toward Washington, Connecticut.
    Peter took in the bare trees and patchy snow. “It’s colder here than Virginia,” he said.

    “I hope you packed warm clothes,” Arrington said to Ilsa.
    “Yes, ma’am,” Ilsa replied.
    THEY ENTERED the village from the south, drove past the Mayflower Inn and turned left at the Congregational church.
    “This is Washington Green,” Stone explained, “and my house was once the gatehouse for the big place next door, called the Rocks.”
    “Then you should call your house the Pebbles,” Peter said.
    “The Pebbles it is, from this day forward,” Stone replied, turning into the short driveway.
    “Oh, this is charming, Stone,” Arrington said. “Look at the little turret, Peter.”
    But Peter was already out of the car, peering through the windows.
    Stone got the door open and turned up the thermostat. “Keep your coats on for a few minutes, until it warms up.” He took Arrington aside. “There are only two bedrooms.”
    “Well,” she said, “it won’t be the first time we’ve shared, will it?”
    Stone and the nanny got the bags upstairs and distributed, and by the time he got back downstairs, the furnace was