Foreign Affairs (5 page)

H
edy arrived at the Hassler and let herself into the suite. Stone was back on the bed, and she lay down with him and put her head on his shoulder. “I hope this all goes away soon,” she said.

“I don't think that's going to happen,” Stone said, “and I can't just go back to New York and leave Marcel to handle it. We had a similar problem with the Russian Mob in Paris. Marcel is known there as the French Warren Buffett, and he was and is accustomed to a certain deference in the way people deal with him. I don't think it's something he's sought, it's just happened as his reputation has grown. I believe the experience with the Russians, though, has toughened him up. He's already expressed a willingness to do what's necessary to deal with the problem.”

“How can I help?” Hedy asked.

“First of all, consider your own position: these people already
know about you from Positano, and your association with me could cause you difficulties. I'm happy to pay off the agent for the apartment and send you back to New York, or wherever you want to go, on the next airplane.”

“You'd be happy to see me go?”

“Don't misunderstand—I'm conflicted. I want you with me, but I don't want you to be less than safe and comfortable.”

“I feel both safe and comfortable with you,” she said.

“I'm glad of that, but if at any time you want to distance yourself from the situation, I'll get you out.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

Stone had a thought. “Excuse me,” he said, “I have to call Pat Frank in New York.” He moved the pillows around and sat up in bed.

“Who's he?”

“It's a she. She runs an aircraft management business, and I'm her client.” He dialed the number.

“Pat Frank.”

“Hi, it's Stone.”

“You okay?”

“Yes, but I had to make an unexpected trip to Rome a couple of days ago, and I'd like you to find a ferry pilot and move my airplane over here. Is there a convenient general aviation airport here?”

“Yes, there's Ciampino, southeast of the city, just outside Rome's autostrada beltway. How long do you need hangar space?”

“I'm not sure: a week or ten days, maybe.”

“I have a pilot in mind: I'll give him a call, then check on hangar space and get back to you.”

“Okay. Use the cell number. And don't use my name on any of the paperwork.” He hung up.

“You really do have an airplane?” Hedy asked. “I thought you were kidding.”

“I really do, and I fly it myself.”

“I feel like a drink,” she said, getting up. “Can I get you one?”

“Sure.”

She came back shortly with two glasses, then Stone's phone rang.

“Hello?”

“It's Pat. I've got you a pilot, and he can leave early tomorrow morning. From Teterboro, right?”

“Right.”

“I'll flight-plan him to the Azores, he'll overnight there, then on to Lisbon and Rome. The airplane will be there the day after tomorrow, and the name for the hangar reservation is under Pat Frank, Inc. The FBO is Sky Services.” She gave him the address, phone number, and a contact name. “When you're ready to fly out, call me and I'll take care of the flight planning and a hotel in the Azores.”

“Good. Have the pilot check the fluids and top off the tanks as soon as he arrives in Rome, and you can send Joan a bill for his services, expenses, and the fuel.”

“Will do. Have a good time in Rome.”

“I'll do my best.” He hung up and took a sip of his drink. “There, now we'll have a quick way out of town, if we need it.”

She laughed. “I don't think I've ever needed a quick way out of town before.”

“That's what happens when you hang out with disreputable characters.”

“Or just someone who leads an interesting life.”

“I warn you, sometimes it gets a little too interesting.”

“I'm on board. Shall we order in some dinner?”

“You call room service.”

“What would you like?”

“Surprise me. I feel like a shower.” He knocked off the remainder of his drink, stripped off his clothes, and stood under a stream of hot water for ten minutes.

—

R
oom service arrived, and Stone approved of Hedy's choices. They were on coffee when Stone's phone rang.

“Hello?”

“It's Mike. I've made some calls in Rome, and I don't like what I'm hearing. I want to get you out of your hotel and into an apartment. I've got someone making calls about that now.”

“Hang on, Mike.” He turned to Hedy. “My friend Mike Freeman, who's handling our security, wants us out of the hotel.”

“How about my apartment?”

“Does anyone besides you and me know about it?”

“A couple of people in New York.” She gave him the address.

Stone went back to Mike. “I've got an apartment in the Via Stelletto, Pantheon district.”

“All right, get packed. I'll have somebody there in half an hour to get you out. Don't check out of the hotel—I'll deal with that.”

“All right,” Stone said. He hung up. “Let's get packed.”

—

H
alf an hour later there was a soft knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Stone asked.

“I'm from Mike Freeman.”

Stone opened the door to find a large man in a dark suit; he had a hotel trolley with him. They gave him their luggage and followed him to a service elevator, then out a service exit to a waiting van with a driver. Stone gave them the address.

“I know it,” the driver said. “It has a courtyard, which is good for us.”

“There were two men in a car out front at the hotel,” the big man said. “I think they were waiting for you. Don't worry, we'll lose them.”

They followed what seemed to Stone a torturous route. As they turned into the Via Stelletto, the big man got out of the van, while the driver continued into the street and turned into
the courtyard. “He's just making sure nobody's on our tail,” the driver said. The big man rejoined them, and they got their luggage and the two of them into a tiny elevator, while the big man ran up the four flights of stairs.

He didn't seem winded when they arrived. “Do you mind if I have a look around before you go in?” he asked.

“Help yourself,” Hedy said, unlocking the door.

He disappeared inside, then returned a couple of minutes later. “It's good,” he said, and he took their bags inside. “Nobody can see into the place, and the terrace overlooks the courtyard, not the street. I couldn't have picked a better place myself.”

Stone had a look around: there was a large kitchen, two bedrooms and baths, and a comfortable living room, plus a large terrace accessed through French doors. “Very nice,” he said.

“My name's Hal,” the big man said. He handed Stone two cell phones. “One for each of you. Use them for outgoing calls. You can use your own phone for incoming ones. I'll be in or around the courtyard downstairs tonight. A guy named Ernie will relieve me in the morning, and he'll check in with you. My phone number is speed dial one, his is two, three will get you Mr. Freeman, in New York.” He took Stone aside and handed him a compact 9mm handgun and a spare magazine. “It's loaded, and there's one in the chamber,” he said.

“Thank you for your help.”

“It's what we do. Good night.”

He left and Stone went into the bedroom, where Hedy was
unpacking his things and putting them into a huge wardrobe on one side of the room. He put the gun in the bedside table drawer.

“Now,” she said, finishing her work and handing him a terrycloth robe. “You're my
guest.”

S
tone woke to an unfamiliar sound: there was a light knocking far away, and it began to increase in volume. He got into his robe, took the gun from the bedside table drawer, and walked through the living room and the kitchen to the front door. “Who is it?” he shouted, before opening the door.

“Ernie.”

Stone unlatched the door and found a smaller version of Hal there.

“Mike Freeman sent me. I just wanted you to know I'm on the job,” he said.

Hedy appeared from behind Stone, pulling on a sweater over jeans. “I've got to go out for breakfast stuff,” she said.

“Walk her to the store and back, will you?” Stone asked Ernie.

“Sure thing. You gonna be okay?”

Stone nodded.

“Hey,” Ernie said, pointing to the edge of the front door. “Give me your door key.”

Hedy handed it to him. He inserted and turned it. Six bolts emerged from the door. “Look at that,” he said. “It's like a safe: heavy steel and six bolts that go into a steel jamb. Nobody's coming in here without a bazooka.”

“Good to know,” Stone said. He had never seen a door like that, either.

Hedy let herself out.

“Lock it from outside,” Stone said, and she did.

Stone got a shower and a shave, and by the time he was out of the bathroom, Hedy had come back and had scrambled eggs and Italian sausage ready.

“Really good,” Stone said. “You know, there's something very familiar about your name, and I can't place it.”

“Hedy Eva Maria Kiesler? It's the real name of the actress from the forties, Hedy Lamarr. She's Viennese, as was my father, and he claimed some sort of kinship, a distant cousin or something. The name is a family joke.”

“‘I am Tondelayo,'” Stone quoted. “That was her famous line from
White Cargo
. She was very beautiful.”

“Very smart, too. She invented some sort of torpedo that was used in World War Two. She had several patents, I think.”

“So you skipped the mechanical talent and went straight for the artistic?”

“Something like that. I can pick a lock, though, if it's not too complicated.”

“Good—you never know when you'll need a lock picked.”

“I want to start to work today,” she said. “Will that disturb you?”

“No more than you usually disturb me. There are a lot of books in the living room. I'll see if I can find something in English.”

—

A
fter breakfast, Hedy set up her easel on the terrace, and Stone found a collection of Mark Twain pieces. They were both fully occupied until noon, then they went out to look for some lunch, with Ernie a dozen paces back, watching everything like a predatory bird.

They found a workingman's tiny café a few doors up the street and had some lasagna, then took a stroll around the neighborhood. There were a couple of dozen restaurants within a five-minute walk, and the Pantheon, the ancient pagan Roman temple that featured the world's largest unsupported dome, a ten-minute walk away. They continued to the Piazza Navona, with its three Bernini fountains and a zillion tourists.

They were back at the apartment by three, and Stone's phone was ringing.

“Hello?”

“It's Mike. Everything okay?”

“Yes. Your guys got us out and to the apartment safely, and Hal approves of our security here.”

“My people made the transition at Marcel's offices and apartment on schedule this morning. The Italian guards are out, and I've got more people arriving about now from our Paris office.”

“You said last night that you were hearing things. What things?”

“My people are hearing that the local Mob have taken a very big interest in Marcel and you. They apparently see the new hotel as a gold mine for them in bribes and extortion. My tech guy went through the security system and computers at Marcel's office and found the phones bugged, and the computer network breached. All that has been taken care of, and new defenses have been installed.”

“Do you think you can get a message to Leo Casselli?”

“Probably. What do you want me to tell him?”

“Just let him know that we're not going to play his game, that he'd be smart to leave us alone.”

“I think the disconnection of his electronic surveillance will tell him that. In the meantime, you need to be on guard for some sort of more physical approach. Beware of getting yanked into a car, and don't either of you go out without Ernie or Hal.”

“Are we doing enough? Anything we're missing?”

“I've spoken to Dino, who's spoken to somebody in the Rome police, and I think that's all we can do, until they make another move.”

“Okay, I'll keep you posted on what's going on at this end.”

“Same from here.” They hung up, and Stone went back to his Mark Twain.

—

A
s darkness was falling that evening, and they were contemplating dinner at a restaurant, Stone's second phone rang.

“It's Ernie,” he said. “Lock that fucking bank vault door of yours.” He hung
up.

S
tone locked the door.

“What's up?” Hedy asked.

“I don't know, Ernie said to lock the door.”

“Would you like a drink?” she asked.

“Not right now. I want to find out what's happening, first.” There was a sharp metallic rapping on the door, and Stone walked over to it. “Who is it?”

“Hal.”

Stone unlocked the door, and Hal walked in.

“We made a couple of bad guys in the neighborhood and watched them for a few minutes. They appeared to be searching, and they finally got into a car and left.”

“That's good. Do you think they know we're in the neighborhood?”

“Possibly.”

“How could they?”

“Have you used your own phone today?”

“No, I used the one you gave me.”

“Let me see your iPhone.”

Stone handed it over.

Hal removed the SIM card and handed it to Stone. “Don't put this into the phone until you want to use it.” He did the same to Hedy's iPhone. “It could be that they picked up on one or both of your phones when you were at the Hassler and tracked them to this street but weren't able to localize on the apartment. This is a densely populated neighborhood, and even with a signal they might be unable to zero in on you. For instance, even if they got the building right, they wouldn't be able to tell what floor you're on. The good news is, we were able to put a tracker on their car, so if it returns, we'll get a heads-up on our receiving equipment.”

“That's good to know.”

“What are your dinner plans?”

“We haven't made any.”

“I don't want you to get cabin fever. There's a nice place directly across the street from you, with a name something like Italian for white cat. Try that.”

“Okay.”

“Somebody will have eyes on you all the time, and if we spot anybody, we'll handle it. We'll call you if any action on your part is needed. Don't carry the gun—somebody might spot it, and we don't want to cause a fuss.”

“As you wish.”

“I'd go to dinner no later than seven,” Hal said. “That will guarantee you a table, and the place will be crowded later.”

Hal let himself out of the apartment, and Stone locked the door behind him.

“How about that drink now?” Hedy asked.

“What are my choices?”

“Is Knob Creek okay?”

“Where on earth did you get that?”

“I found it in a shop down the street, amazingly enough. They had two bottles, and I bought both of them.” She poured them each a drink.

“I didn't know you were a bourbon drinker,” he said.

“I'm a Georgia girl, little town called Delano. We didn't even have a liquor store, but we managed.”

“How did Arthur Steele become your stepfather?”

“My mother moved to New York when I was in college, and she got a job at an insurance agency. She met Arthur there, when he came to see her boss. Next thing I knew, she was married to him and living on Fifth Avenue. They invited me up for Thanksgiving, and that was the first time I met him.”

“Was it love at first sight for the two of you?”

“No, but we got along. He was nice enough to give me a trust fund, the income from which has allowed me to be a painter. It took me ten years to start making a living from selling my work.”

“Arthur must have a soft spot for you.”

“He has a soft spot for my mother, and whatever it cost him, it was worth it not to have her worrying about whether I was starving. Arthur is a pragmatic man.”

—

A
t seven they walked across the street to the little restaurant, and it turned out to be very good.

“I guess I'm going to have to get used to having Italian food every night,” Hedy said.

“That's no strain for me,” Stone said. “I love Italian food.” There were no spirits available, so he ordered a bottle of Amarone.

Stone's phone rang. “Hello?”

“It's Hal. The car we bugged is back in the neighborhood. Be prepared to leave cash on the table and leave, if necessary.”

“Okay.” Stone saw Ernie walk past a window near their table, and he shifted his chair to the other side, so as to face the street.

“Anything wrong?” Hedy asked.

“Not yet,” Stone said.