Unintended Consequences

an Agency contractor?” Rick offered, helpfully.
    Stone shrugged. “You said something on the phone that puzzled me,” he said.
    “What was that?”
    “You said, and I quote, ‘It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.’ I take it you had plans for Aldo?”
    “Aldo was a pain in the ass,” Rick said, “but he became much more than that. He became a danger to, among other people, you.”
    “Wait a minute,” Stone said, “don’t hang this on me.”
    “And Marcel duBois.”
    “Do you mean he was an actual physical threat?”
    “Aldo was in the employ of . . . I don’t know quite what to call them—they don’t have a name. A cabal, I guess, is as good as any word to describe them. They are a criminally oriented group of ex–intelligence officers—KGB and Eastern European services, formerly Soviet Bloc countries.”
    “With Majorov at the top?”
    “Not at the top, but close.”
    “And who’s at the top?”
    “I dare not speak his name,” Rick said. “Because we’re not entirely sure.”
    “My memory has started to return,” Stone said. “At least a slice of it.” He told Rick about the group on the Air France flight.
    “That was Lance’s doing,” Rick said. “He bought the empty first-class seats on that flight. You had already booked, so he left you in place, since you are contractually bound not to talk about what might have gone on.”
    “You mean, Aldo was supposed to meet his end on that flight?”
    “No, but what happened on that flight was supposed to make him easier to deal with. We had envisioned an interrogation.”
    “But I, ah, took his room reservation at the embassy?”
    “You might say that.”
    “Rick, why are you telling me all this? Wouldn’t Lance object to my knowing it?”
    “Lance feels badly about what happened to you, and he wanted to help you fill in the gaps. He wants you happy.”
    “I’m puzzled,” Stone said. “Why would he want that?”
    “Because Marcel duBois is showing some reluctance to behave as an asset should. Lance said to tell you that, for the time being, he is
your
asset, not mine or Lance’s.”
    “Oh, swell,” Stone said.
    “All you have to do is listen to him, then report in.”
    “That’s all there is to it?”
    “Well, there is the fact that, in spite of the demise of Aldo Saachi, M’sieur duBois is not entirely out of the woods, no pun intended.” Rick drained his espresso cup. “Nor are you.”

30
    S tone checked the weather again before leaving the hotel. No change. He wished now that he had accepted Marcel’s offer of his car. He got into his trench coat, unpacked a folding fedora, and carried it down to the lobby and out the front door. “Taxi, please,” he said to the doorman.
    The man was dressed in a yellow slicker with a hood. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barrington,” he said, throwing up his hands. “There are no taxis, except those that might drop a passenger at the hotel. It could be half an hour or more.”
    “Then I’ll walk,” Stone said, putting on his hat and buttoning and belting his trench coat.
    The man held out an umbrella. “Compliments of the hotel,” he said.
    Stone trudged down the street in the general direction of Marcel’s building, leaning into the wind and sheltering himself as best he could under the umbrella. Twenty minutes later he walked into the building, dripping water onto the lobby floor. He gave the doorman his coat, hat, and umbrella. The man received them gingerly and hung them in a closet.
    Stone’s trousers were soaked from the shins down, and so were his shoes. He rode up in the elevator, adjusting his tie and making himself as presentable as possible. He arrived at Marcel’s floor and was greeted by the man himself.
    “My dear fellow!” Marcel cried. “Your trousers are soaked. Were you unable to find a taxi?”
    “I should have accepted your offer of your car,” Stone said.
    Marcel turned to his butler. “Victor, find Mr. Barrington a robe and press his suit. Is your coat downstairs, Stone?”
    “Yes.”
    “Dry everything and press his garments,” Marcel said. “Please, Stone, go with Victor.”
    Victor showed him to a guest bedroom. “There is a dressing gown and slippers in the closet,” he said. “Please give me your suit and shoes.”
    Stone got out of the clothes and turned them over to Victor, then he got into the cashmere dressing gown and soft leather slippers and went back to the living room, where Marcel waited.
    “Come into the study,”