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“How so?”
“Because they wouldn’t expect you to be dining with the police commissioner.”
Collins laughed. “Point taken.”
“Would you like to order?”
“Thank you, I’ll have the Dover sole.”
“And a Caesar salad? Very good here.”
“Thank you, yes.”
They ordered.
“Another martini?” Stone asked.
“No, I think I’d better keep my wits about me.”
“I assume you’ve checked the exits and plotted an escape route.”
Collins smiled. “Why do you think that?”
“Because that’s what they taught you at the Farm.”
“Quite right.”
“Now, Jack, why did you request this meeting?”
“Because I wanted to see if you are good enough for my wife to be sleeping with.”
“May I remind you that when we met, she and I both thought her a widow.”
“I suppose, for all practical purposes, she is.”
“Then you’re not planning a resurrection as John Collins?”
“I think not.”
“By the way, you should know that you no longer have access to the Cayman bank account.”
Collins displayed a slight alarm. “Why not?”
“Because Vanessa changed the account number and password—at my suggestion.”
“Why did you suggest it?”
“Because you removed four hundred fifty thousand dollars at a time when we both thought you dead.”
“That’s inconvenient.”
“I’m sure Vanessa will give you the new codes, if you ask for them.”
“Do you have them?”
“It’s not my account. By the way, she’s closing whatever other accounts you may have.”
“Why?”
