6 Stone Barrington Novels (107 page)

THEY DINED FROM CARDBOARD CARTONS on Wedgwood plates. The food was superb, and Stone had found a dry, white Bordeaux in James Cutler's cellar that was a perfect companion to Chinese food. Among the three of them, they managed two bottles.

Stone's cellphone rang. “Hello?”

“Hi, it's me,” Lance's voice said.

“Lance,” Stone mouthed to Carpenter. She came and put her ear next to his.

“What's up? Everything on schedule?”

“Did you wire the funds into the Swiss account?”

“Yes; they would have been there before the close of business.”

“Good; then we're a go.”

“When is the buy going to take place?”

“The evening of the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow morning I have to arrange for the cash to be transported from Zurich to England. You'll wire it to an account in Belgium, and it will be across the Channel as quickly as possible. I'll give you the wiring instructions tomorrow morning, so don't be far from your cellphone.”

“Lance, I want to be there for the buy.”

Lance was quiet for a moment. “That isn't necessary,” he said.

“It's necessary for me. I don't want to be separated from my money.”

Lance laughed. “All right; we'll arrange to meet west of London; I'll give you an address.”

“Why don't you just pick me up?”

“Because I won't be returning to London after the buy; you'll need transportation. Believe me, this is the best way to do it.”

“If you say so.”

“I'll call you at nine o'clock tomorrow morning with the wiring instructions.”

“All right, good night.”

“Good night.”

Stone punched off the phone. “What do you think?”

“I'm not sure,” she said. “Let's wait until you hear from him with the wiring instructions. By that time, I'll have the funds available to make the transfer. We'll wire them to your Swiss account, and then you can forward them to the Belgian account. That way it will look entirely kosher. You'll have to sign for the funds, of course.” She smiled. “We can't have you running off with our money.”

“Suppose I did?”

“I'd hunt you down; you couldn't hide for long.”

“I don't think I'd want you on my trail,” Stone said.

Carpenter looked at her watch. “I have to go home and get some sleep.”

“Can I drive you?”

“I'm within walking distance.”

“Then I'll walk you.”

“That won't do, I'm afraid. You get some sleep; I'll be back here by eight in the morning.” She stood up.

Stone walked her to the door and said good night.
Stone went back to the kitchen, where Dino was polishing off a final dumpling.

“She doesn't want you to know where she lives,” Dino said.

“I guess not.”

“Or her name.”

“I guess not.”

“It's a shame; she's quite a broad; I've never met anybody like her.”

“Neither have I,” Stone admitted.

“What did you tell Sarah about tonight?”

“Business.”

“I suppose that wasn't too much of a lie.”

“I try never to lie.”

“The best policy,” Dino agreed.

They had a brandy, then went to bed.

 

Stone was already up and dressed the following morning, when Carpenter rang the bell.

“Good morning,” she said. Today she was dressed more informally, in a cotton pantsuit that complemented her figure.

“Come in,” Stone said.

“Heard anything from Cabot?”

“No, not yet. He said he'd call at nine. Have you had breakfast?”

“No.”

“Come to the kitchen; I'll make you some eggs.”

Carpenter followed him into the kitchen, where Dino was making coffee. Stone scrambled some eggs, English-style, and fried some superb smoked Irish back bacon. They were just finishing when nine o'clock came.

Stone looked at his watch. “Any minute,” he said.

“My funds are ready to go,” Carpenter said. “The minute you have the wiring instructions.”

By ten o'clock, Stone had still not heard from Lance.

“Call him,” Carpenter said.

Stone dialed the Farm Street house; Erica answered.

“Hi,” Stone said, “may I speak with Lance?”

“He's not here,” she said, and she sounded upset.

“What's wrong?” Stone asked.

“He left in the middle of the night; I didn't wake up until Monica called a few minutes ago.”

“You sound a little groggy.”

“I know; I can't seem to wake up.”

“Did Lance leave a note?”

“No, nothing; and all his clothes are gone. I mean, everything, and all his luggage, too.”

“I'll call you back,” Stone said, and hung up. He turned to Carpenter. “Sounds like Lance drugged Erica last night, then packed up and decamped. Does this change anything?”

“No,” she said. “It makes sense that he'd not tell her where he's going, and he wouldn't want to return to the house after the buy.”

“But why would he go two days before the buy?”

“This leads me to think that the exchange will be tonight, rather than tomorrow. It can't happen any earlier than that, because his man at Eastover will be working all day; if he didn't show up for work, our people would be all over him.”

“Then why hasn't Lance called with the wiring instructions?” Stone asked. “He can't make the buy without the funds, and he made the very good point last night that the cash would have to be transported to England. This doesn't make any sense.”

Carpenter got out her cellphone and went into the study. She came back a few minutes later. “Both our
suspects at Eastover are at work, as usual,” she said. “We'll be notified if they leave the installation for any reason, and there are people there to keep track of them if they do.”

Stone was suddenly struck with an odd feeling. “Excuse me a minute, will you?” He went upstairs and retrieved his copy of the Swiss bank documents. There was an account manager's name at the top of the first page, and a telephone number. Stone dialed the number.

An operator answered, repeating only the number.

“May I speak with Dr. Peter von Enzberg?” Stone asked.

“Who is calling, please?” the operator asked in stiff English.

“My name is Stone Barrington.”

“One moment.” There was a brief pause, followed by several clicks.

“This is Peter von Enzberg,” a deep voice said, sounding very English. “Is that Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes, Doctor. I opened an account yesterday and transferred some funds from New York.”

“Of course, Mr. Barrington; we received the funds in good order.”

“Can you tell me the current balance in my account?”

“May I have your code word, please?”

Stone gave it to him.

“One moment.” Stone could hear computer keys clicking. “Your current balance is one hundred dollars, Mr. Barrington.”

Stone felt suddenly ill. “What was the amount you received from New York?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“Then why isn't it in the account?”

“A request was made to transfer the funds shortly
before closing yesterday. It was very late, but the request was urgent, so we accommodated Mr. Cabot.”

“Mr. Cabot had access to my account?”

“Why, yes, Mr. Barrington; his signature was on the account application, and he knew the code word.”

Stone felt frozen. “Where were the funds transferred?”

“To an account in Hong Kong,” the account manager replied.

“Thank you, Dr. von Enzberg.” He hung up and trudged down the stairs.

“What's wrong?” Carpenter asked. “You look ill.”

“I've been had,” Stone replied.

STONE SANK HEAVILY INTO AN ARMCHAIR in the drawing room.

“Explain,” Carpenter said.

“Lance transferred all the money out of the account yesterday, to a bank in Hong Kong.”

“How could he do that?”

“Apparently, he had access to my account.”

Carpenter stared at him. “Did you sign the account application, then give it back to Lance?”

“Yes.”

“Then he simply added his own signature to the document. Did he know your code?”

“I wrote it on the form. How could I have been so stupid?”

“An expensive oversight,” Carpenter said.

“I could get the Hong Kong account number, and we could trace the funds,” Stone said.

Carpenter shook her head. “Remember the time difference; Cabot has had plenty of opportunity to retransfer the funds half a dozen times; he was probably at it all night. We'd never find it.”

“But your people will reimburse me?”

“I can't make any promises; my management are likely to take a dim view of all this.”

“I worked very hard to earn that money,” Stone said, though he'd really made it in the market. “You can't let them hang me out to dry.”

“If it were our funds he'd stolen, that would be one thing, but your funds are quite another.” She looked at her watch. “We have to get going,” she said.

“To where?”

“To Wiltshire; obviously, the timetable has been accelerated. I hope we're not too late.”

Stone grabbed a tie and his suit jacket and they met downstairs.

“We'll take your Jaguar,” Carpenter said. “But you can't go,” she said to Dino.

“I go where he goes,” Dino replied.

Carpenter looked at Stone, who nodded. “Oh, all right. Let's get out of here,” she said.

 

Carpenter drove, fast and expertly.

Stone glanced at the speedometer, which was glued to a hundred and twenty miles an hour. “Aren't you worried about being stopped by the police?”

“The number plate is a special one; they'll know to leave us alone,” she replied. She fished her cellphone out of her bag and dialed a number, driving with one hand, making Stone nervous. “It's Carpenter,” she said. “Cabot has bolted with Barrington's money, we don't know where. We have to assume that his timetable has changed. I'm on the way, and I'll be there in an hour.” She punched off.

Stone called the Farm Street house again. Erica answered.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I've had three double espressos, but I'm still a little fuzzy around the edges.”

“Write down this number,” Stone said, and gave her his cellphone number. “If Lance should call, tell him I called and want to speak to him urgently. When he hangs up, you call me immediately.”

“What's going on, Stone?” Erica asked.

“I'm not sure,” he said, “but don't leave the house; stick by the phone.”

“All right,” she replied.

Stone hung up. “Should I call her back and have her check the office in the wine cellar?”

“Don't bother,” Carpenter said. “It isn't Cabot's office.”

Stone looked at her. “Then whose is it?”

“It belongs to the owner of the house,” she said. “He's one of ours.”

“Why would Lance rent a house from one of your people?”

“He doesn't know. We've been keeping track of Cabot ever since he arrived in London last year. He was followed to an estate agent's, where he was looking for houses to rent, and we, in effect, made him an offer he couldn't refuse. The rent and the location were irresistible.”

“Who shot the two Israelis?”

“Not our people; maybe Stan Hedger.”

“Why?”

“He may have read them as a threat to Cabot, and he didn't want anything to happen to Cabot, at least not yet.”

“This is way too complicated for me,” Stone said.

“Then don't try to figure it out.”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Dino chipped in from the backseat.

“What does?”

“The whole thing. Hedger hires you to look into
Cabot because he's afraid if he uses his own people Cabot will figure it out, because, having been one of them, he knows how they operate. Cabot researches you, figures you were telling the truth when you said you were no longer working for Hedger.”

“I did tell the truth,” Stone said. “Eventually.”

“Yeah. Once Cabot thinks you're not working for Hedger, he figures you for a mark.”

“God knows, that's true.”

“The Israelis obviously want whatever Cabot is buying, and so does Hedger.”

“But the American government already has access to this technology, doesn't it?” Stone asked Carpenter.

Carpenter looked momentarily uncomfortable. “Not necessarily,” she said.

Dino continued. “Makes even more sense,” he said. “The Brits build this . . .
thing
 . . . and they don't share their little secret with the Americans, so Hedger and his people are pissed off.”

“But why me?” Stone asked.

“You're not some unknown person,” Dino said. “You get your name in the papers now and then. That's probably how you came to Hedger's attention—that, or your old professor buddy down at NYU dropped your name on somebody he used to know.”

“And who would the professor be?” Carpenter asked.

“Samuel Bernard,” Stone replied. “He was one of my professors in law school.”

“That bloke is a bloody
legend,
” she said, wonder in her voice.

“I knew he had a lot of connections, but I didn't know he qualified as a legend.”

“He was offered the directorship of central intelligence at one time; turned it down and went to NYU,
but word is, he kept his hand in. Once you've been at that level in the agency, you don't just get put out to pasture.” She whipped off the motorway, made a left, drove another half a mile, and turned onto a smaller road, keeping her speed at what Stone figured was about twenty miles an hour more than the car was capable of on that road.

Stone hung onto the door handle and tried not to look at the winding black tarmac rushing at him. Dino, on the other hand, seemed perfectly awake.

“Looks like everybody knows what's going on here except you, Stone,” he said.

“Oh, I think you've explained it to him very well, Dino,” Carpenter said, whipping around a hairpin turn. “You missed your calling; you're wasted as a policeman.”

“Don't you believe it,” Dino replied. “I wouldn't get mixed up in your business for anything. You can never trust
anybody
.”

“Not a bad policy,” she replied. “Is it any better on the NYPD?”

“Marginally,” Dino said.

“Where are we going?” Stone asked.

“Right up there,” Carpenter replied. They had emerged from a stand of trees onto an open, rolling plain with few trees. Ahead of them a mile or so, at a crossroads, was a three-story stone building, which got larger fast. Carpenter skidded into the parking lot, which was nearly full, and got out of the car. “Come on,” she said.

Stone saw two men on a ladder stringing a cable from a utility pole on the road to a corner of the building. He looked at the sign:
THE BREWER
'
S ARMS
, it read. He followed Carpenter inside.