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“Don’t worry, I don’t have to assault him to read him.”
“Well,” Stone said, “this could be fun.” His cell phone buzzed, and he looked at it. “We may expect Dame Felicity at six-thirty tomorrow,” he said.
“How am I dressing?”
“To kill. It will be black tie.”
“Oh, good.”
“I’m sorry you can’t go shopping for a dress, but them’s the rules.”
“Fear not, I’m sufficiently stocked.”
Stone’s phone vibrated again, and he glanced at it and sent back a reply. “It seems the foreign minister, Sir John Parker,and his wife, Hillary, will be joining us for dinner. Felicity is putting them up at her house, so I should think that will put a damper on her intentions for after dinner. Sir John is, after all, her boss.”
“Perhaps another time,” Vanessa said.
“I believe that’s what Felicity is thinking, too.”
33
Stone came outof his dressing room and found Vanessa sitting on the edge of the bed, nude. He knelt and attended to things at the Delta of Venus.
Vanessa ran her fingers through his hair and sighed. “Who needs Dame Felicity?”
“We try to offer a complete service,” Stone said, climbing atop of her. She lifted her knees to allow him full entry.
“And you do that so well,” she breathed.
When they were both sated, they lay side by side. “Is anyone still trying to kill us?” she asked.
“Probably not,” Stone replied, “but there’s a loadedshotgun under my side of the bed, and a pistol in my bedside drawer.”
“I know how to use both of those implements,” she said, “in case I’m needed.”
“Good to know. We might not have time for weapons instruction.”
She fondled him. “I’ve already had weapons instruction,” she said, “but I can always muster a second wind.”
“I’m not sure I can,” Stone said, “so let’s save it for the morning.”
They were both soon asleep.
—
The following morning,Stone’s eyes fluttered open, and he experienced a moment of disorientation, uncertain on what continent they were, but it was momentary. A birdsong outside snapped him into place; one didn’t hear that often in New York.
“What kind of bird is that?” Vanessa asked.
“I’ve no idea,” Stone replied. “My knowledge of ornithology extends only as far as robins and LBJs, as a friend of mine puts it.”
“What’s an LBJ?” she asked.
“A Little Brown Job,” he replied.
She threw a leg over him. “I believe we have an appointment,” she said.
Stone joined her. “I believe we do.”
