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“Then who’s going to be the butler?”
“Geoffrey, when he’s not protecting you.”
“You’ll get your money’s worth out of Geoffrey,” Stone said.
They continued their tour until Joan had everything down pat.
“Okay, I’m briefed,” she said to Stone. “Now make all these people disappear, so I can take a bath and change. I’m going out for dinner.”
“They will seem to disappear, but they’ll still be there to protect you,” Stone said. “Who are you having dinner with?”
“Eddie Jr.,” she said. “Only kidding. It’s none of your business.”
“Give one of these people his name, so they won’t shoot him,” Stone said. “Good evening to you!”
“And good riddance to you!”
FORTY-EIGHT
Eddie Charles Jr. sat in the attic over his late father’s dressing room, where he had eluded the people who searched the house earlier. He opened the hatch that led to the attic, put a foot on the top of the unit that held his father’s trousers, and lowered himself silently to the floor. He had concealed himself just in time, and he had overheard every word of Mike Freeman’s briefing with Joan. He could sleep on the bed in the dressing room, to which his father had sometimes been banished by his wife.
He was exactly his father’s size. It pleased him that, after years of having been denied the use of his father’s clothing, he could now pick and choose from his things. He undressed and got into fresh clothes and a sheepskin coat for the outside weather. He took a hat, a scarf, and some gloves, then slipped out of this shoes and left the dressing room through its rear door, emerging into a hallway that led to the eighth-floorliving room. He stopped and stood stock-still for two minutes, listening for movement in the house. He heard nothing.
He padded across the living room, into the study, then through the narrow door that allowed a bartender to reach his workstation. He opened the bar refrigerator and found some canapés left over from Joan’s party. He ate them all, washed down with a bottle of beer. He cleaned the plate carefully, dried it, and placed it on the shelf with the other serving dishes, then he wiped down the beer bottle with a damp rag, replaced the cap, and put the empty back into the fridge, behind two rows of full bottles. Finally, he went into his father’s study and sat down at his desk. He opened the top right-hand drawer and found it empty, except for innocent office supplies. He closed the drawer and reached down into the well of the desk, where his feet would go, and found a concealed button. He pressed it, causing a tray to eject, which he then pulled all the way out to expose its contents. The tray had not been found by the security people.
It was not as deep as a drawer, but it held a half dozen weapons and their accessories. He picked up a snub-nosed .38 and examined the tip of its barrel. Good. He removed a silencer from its bed and screwed it into the barrel. Then he selected a loaded magazine and shoved it into the weapon’s grip and worked the action, moving a round into the chamber, ready for firing. He pocketed four more loaded magazines and a shoulder holster, then he pushed the tray back into the desk until it closed and latched. He put the weapon on safety, then slowly lowered the hammer.
He was about to leave the room when he noticed a leather box on the desktop. He opened it and found that it had held three remote controls, one of which was missing. He had heard the discussion between Freeman and Joan about how to work it. He put one of them in his pocket.
He went back into the bar, opened the large butler’s lift, removed two of the wire shelves and stowed them in a cabinet. Then he crawled into the unit, pressed a button, and pulled the door shut. He had done this often when he was a teenager, slipping out of the house when everyone was asleep.
The lift in which he sat stopped in the kitchen, and Eddie very carefully opened the door an inch and listened. Someone was rummaging in the big Sub-Zero refrigerator. He waited until he heard the fridge door close and footsteps cross out of the kitchen, then he got out of the butler’s lift and stretched his limbs. He was ready to greet the world now.
He took his shoes in his hand and tiptoed down the service stairs to the main floor of the house, stopping to listen for two minutes. Nothing. He crossed the marble lobby, still without his shoes, and held the little remote control under a table lamp and examined the controls. Finally, he took a deep breath, held it, and pressed the button that read:front. The door quietly opened, and he stepped outside. He closed the door softly behind him, slipped into his shoes, and walked quickly out into the night. He was a free man once again, and he had a home to come back to, if he was careful.
FORTY-NINE
The following morning, Joan came into Stone’s office. “Do you have a minute?” she asked.
“Sure. You’ve never asked before.” She looked nervous, he thought.
“I have a problem,” she said, “and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Tell me.”
“I think Eddie Jr. is somewhere in my house.”
Stone looked more closely at her. She was a wreck. “But the people from Strategic Services conducted a rigorous search,” he said.
“I know. And I know that I sound crazy.”
“So, do you have any evidence of his presence?”
“No.”
“Have you heard anybody moving around in the middle of the night?”
“No.”
