Unintended Consequences

lowering the gull wings, started the car, and drove to the West Side Highway. Traffic was light, and soon they were on the beautiful Sawmill River Parkway, built in the 1930s, winding north under a series of handsome stone bridges. They blew past the other traffic.
    “You know,” Dino said, “Rolls-Royce used to say that at sixty miles an hour, the loudest noise was the ticking of the clock. Why do I hear wind noise?”
    “We’re doing a hundred and ten,” Stone replied.
    “Holy shit,” Dino muttered. “I guess you’re counting on me to use my badge when we get arrested.”
    “Absolutely,” Stone said. After an hour and thirty minutes, Stone turned into his driveway in Washington, Connecticut. As they got out of the car, he reflected that he had never before made the trip in less than an hour and three-quarters.
    Viv drove the Bentley in behind them and she and her crew got out. “That was one wild ride,” she said. “Why do I feel like we just robbed a bank?”
    “Sorry, it was the first time I’ve driven the Blaise, and I just had to throw it around a little.”
    “Has my hair turned white?” Dino asked.
    “Not yet,” Viv replied, “but you’re working on it. Stone, we had a van behind us for a while, but by the time we left the Sawmill, he was so far back that he couldn’t possibly know where we went.”
    “Describe the van,” Stone said.
    “Black on black with very dark windows. I don’t think it was delivering anything.”
    “Let’s put both cars in the garage, in case anybody drives by,” he said, and they did.
    Stone’s housekeeper, Nellie, opened the front door and beamed at them. “We’re all ready for you, Mr. Barrington,” she said. “My daughter, Martha, is helping out.”
    Stone handed out room assignments, and everyone went inside to get settled in.
    •   •   •
    T hat evening, they dined at the Mayflower Inn, widely heralded as the best country hotel in the United States, and as they left the inn after dinner to get into their cars, Viv tugged at Stone’s sleeve and nodded toward the other end of the parking lot. A black-on-black van sat there. Stone couldn’t tell if anyone was inside.
    “You leave first,” Viv said. “We’ll block anyone from following you.”
    Stone did as he was instructed, and five minutes after the Blaise was in his garage, Viv and her colleagues pulled into the driveway and got out.
    “Any problems?” Stone asked.
    Viv shook her head. “We checked out the van. It was empty, but locked, so I expect the passengers are either staying at the inn, dining there, or both. I didn’t see anyone suspicious in the dining room or bar, and believe me, I checked. They must be ordering room service.”
    “Did you run the plates?” Stone asked.
    “No cell service around here. I’ll call on your landline.”
    “Please do.”
    They went into the little library, where Nellie had a nice fire going, and settled in with a brandy.
    Viv walked in a couple of minutes later. “The plates on the van belong to a 1989 Buick,” she said. “I’ve called it in to the Connecticut State Police, so their sleep will be disturbed soon.”
    “Have a brandy,” Stone said. “You’re officially off duty now.”
    “You talked me into it,” she said, taking a seat.
    “Stone,” Marcel said, “this is a lovely house. You choose your residences well.”
    “Thank you, Marcel.”
    Five minutes later, Nellie came into the room. “Mrs. Bacchetti, telephone for you.”
    Viv left the room and came back a couple of minutes later.
    “That was the state police. The van was gone when they arrived, but they’ve issued a bulletin on it.”
    “There’s no reason to believe they know where I live, so we can relax.”
    They returned to their glowing fire and their brandies, which made them glow, too.
    •   •   •
    A s Stone was going up to bed, Viv’s two colleagues came into the house.
    “We’ve had a look around the neighborhood,” one of them said. “No sign of the black van.”
    “Good,” Stone replied.
    “One of us will be downstairs all night,” the man said. “We’ll do shifts.”
    Everybody else went to bed.

39
    I n the wee hours of the morning Stone felt fingernails running across his bare buttocks. He turned over to give Helga a better field of play. After a brief moment of fondling, she rolled onto her back and pulled him on top of her. Stone was groping for a point of entry when Helga said, “Oh, look, isn’t that