Unintended Consequences

to be at all times concerned for your safety, we also wish . . .” He seemed to struggle for the word.
    “You want me to be the bait to draw out the Russians?”
    “Well, yes. I would not have employed that word, but it will suffice. We would like you to maintain your movements around town, dinners out and such, and not just hole up in your house.”
    “All right,” Stone said cautiously.
    “And we are prepared to provide you with nearly unnoticeable body armor—the very latest thing, as it were. We have your size in stock.”
    “How much body armor?”
    “Upper and lower body.”
    “So you’re as much worried about my balls as my internal organs?”
    “As it were,” Lance said primly.
    “All right, I’ll give it a try.”
    “Good,” Lance said. “I’m glad we’re all on the same page.”
    “Please remember, Lance, that pages turn.”
    When the meeting broke up Holly pulled him aside. “How are you, Stone?”
    “You mean, without your company?”
    “No, I meant how are you?”
    “I’m sorry, that was churlish of me, but Lance always has a grating effect.”
    “I’m well acquainted with that characteristic, and I’m happy to be based in New York, instead of at Langley.”
    “Straight answer: I’m annoyed, but otherwise fine. I look forward to the end of this episode and to being alive to see it.”
    “We’ve pulled out all the stops on this one,” Holly said. “You probably won’t see the other people involved, as they’ll hang back a bit.”
    “Waiting for the Russians to go for the bait?”
    “I’m afraid so. We want to bag every single one of them. What Lance didn’t say is, if they take you out, Marcel duBois will be next. They’ll use your death to cow him into letting them into his business empire.”
    Stone nodded.
    “We’re doing everything we can, but you have to take care of yourself, too.”
    “Don’t worry about that.” Stone kissed her and walked to the elevator. The big van was waiting with its door open and an athletic young man with no hair standing next to it, looking for enemies in his own garage.
    Stone sighed and got in.

46
    S tone arrived at home in the van and was told to wait inside it for a moment. He tried to relax as the two young men up front got out and surveyed the neighborhood. Finally, the bald one opened the door for him.
    Stone got out. “What’s your name?” he asked.
    “Stanley,” the young man said. “Now you’d better get inside.”
    Joan buzzed him in through the outside office door. There was a young woman sitting in a chair beside her desk.
    “Who’s your friend?” Stone asked.
    “A friend of your friend outside,” Joan said. “It seems I’m valuable enough to rate a guard.”
    Stone kissed her on the forehead. “You bet your ass you are.” He went into his office and looked for something to do. There wasn’t much, but he did it. After he’d done it, he called Dino.
    “Chief Bacchetti’s office,” a woman’s voice said.
    Stone was accustomed to getting Dino directly. “This is Stone Barrington. May I speak to the chief, please?”
    “What is your business with the chief, Mr. Barrington?”
    “Nefarious and disreputable. Just tell him I’m on the line.”
    She put him on hold for quite some time. Finally, she said, “The chief will speak to you now,” and put him through.
    “Hey, Stone.”
    “Hey, yourself. Who’s the barricade?”
    “That is my new secretary. I also have a detective assistant, a deputy chief, and some guy from public affairs in my offices.”
    “Why do you sound so pissed off about it?”
    “I’m used to a glassed-in cubicle with a view of a dozen guys sitting at worn-out desks. Now I’ve got a view of the city, featuring two large office buildings that are no longer there, and a lot of mahogany paneling. All that’s missing is a grand piano.”
    “Ah, I can see you’re suffering from a bad case of cultural overindulgence.”
    “That pretty much sums it up.”
    “You and Viv want to get some dinner tonight?”
    “Okay by me. I’ll check with her. Where you want to do it?”
    “Patroon all right?”
    “Sure. See you there at what, eight?”
    “Tell you what, I’ll pick you up at home. I’ve got a new ride.”
    “An M1 tank?”
    “Something like that. I’ll be outside your door at eight.” They both hung up.
    •   •   •
    I t was nearly six before Marcel returned from his meetings at the auto show, and Stone took him into his study for a drink. He