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“I spoke to L
ance last night. He’s on his way home now, and he’ll have a list of candidates when he gets to Langley later this morning. Have you been briefed by the desk chiefs yet?”
“No, that’s next on my schedule.”
“One or two of them may be on Lance’s list of candidates, so I’ll be especially interested in your assessment of them as individuals.”
“I’ll try and have that for you by the end of the day here,” Holly said.
“The president made a brief appearance in the press room last night to announce the bare bones of what happened. After he’s viewed the security camera footage, he’ll have a press conference to outline what happened.”
“I’ll get the footage transmitted as quickly as possible,” Holly said.
“Good-bye, then. We’ll talk later today.” Kate hung up.
Holly called in Ann Tinney and gave her instructions on transmitting the footage, along with her commentary. “I’ll start seeing the desk chiefs now,” Holly said.
Holly got to the Connaught just after nine P.M. and was shown to the suite. She had called Stone when she was on her way, and he took her in his arms.
“It must have been a very bad day,” he said.
“I just cannot explain to you how bad,” she replied. “Before this is over we’ll have forty dead—more than half of them collateral damage, complete innocents.”
He put her down in a comfortable chair, gave her a drink, then sat on the ottoman and rubbed her feet.
“That’s the first good thing to happen today,” she said, tugging at the drink.
“I’ve ordered dinner,” Stone said. “It will be here in a few minutes.”
“Oh, thank you. I had half a cup of soup early this afternoon. It was back-to-back briefings, and I hope I can retain half of what I learned. I certainly have a new respect for what the London station chief does. He has all of Europe under his purview. The only good thing is that everything is being smartly handled and operated. It’s a tribute to Tom Riley and Ed Marvin.”
“Who’s Marvin?”
“Deputy station chief. Had bypass surgery two days ago, out for a couple of months, probably.”
The doorbell rang, and Stone let in the waiter with his tray table. He opened the wine and tasted it while the table was being set up. The waiter carved the roast chicken Stone had ordered and served the vegetables, then retreated.
“God, this looks wonderful,” Holly said. “I’m glad you ordered something simple.”
“Did you talk to the director?”
“This morning. I owe her a call, but I’ll wait until she wakes up tomorrow. I woke her at four A.M. this morning.”
“The papers are over there,” Stone said, nodding toward the coffee table. “The bombing is wall-to-wall—on TV, too. Did you speak with Felicity?”
“Not yet. I’ve just been trying to absorb what the staff here told me. I think it’s unlikely that she knows anything I don’t.”
“You never know,” Stone said. “It’s her ‘patch,’ as the Brits like to say.”
“I’ll call her in the morning. What did you do today?”
“I visited my tailor, or rather, the tailor who has replaced my tailor. Doug Hayward died three years ago, and his shop was bought by another, larger shop. Most of Doug’s people have been let go. It was depressing.”
“Poor baby. I wish I had had that good a day.”
Stone laughed. “I wasn’t making comparisons. How long do you think you’ll have to stay?”
“Three or four days, maybe a week. If I know Lance, he’ll be here as soon as he can. Of course, he had to travel all the way from Japan, so he’ll be terminally jet-lagged. I think I’ve found a possible replacement for Tom Riley, so I’ll recommend him. Lance may have other ideas, who knows? He was supposed to have replaced Dick Stone here.”
