Стюарт Вудс - Indecent Exposure

Dino tossed off his drink and stood up, grasping Stone by the arm and hauling him to his feet. “Come with me,” he said.

Stone put down his drink, followed him to the door and outside, where his SUV awaited. “Where are we going?”

“Out to dinner,” Dino replied, thrusting him into the rear seat. “To Clarke’s.” He got in.

“I can’t go out in public,” Stone said.

“You have to, pal, there’s only one way to handle this — brazen it through.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

They were deposited on the sidewalk outside P. J. Clarke’s. “Neutral face,” Dino said, placing a hand in the small of his back and propelling him forward. “Don’t make eye contact.”

They stepped inside, and as the door closed behind them half the room went silent and stared, while the other half chatted on as before. Dino led the way toward the dining room, holding up two fingers for the maître d’. They were at a table in seconds.

Dino ordered the drinks. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was horrible,” Stone said.

“Smile,” Dino said.

“At what?”

“Just smile.”

Stone managed a toothy grimace.

“That’s better.” A waitress approached. “Two New York strips, medium, fries, a bottle of the Châteauneuf-du-Pape,” he said to the young woman.

“You’re Stone Barrington, aren’t you?” she asked slyly.

“You bet your sweet ass he is,” Dino said. “Food!”

She hurried away.

—

After Stone had eaten his steak and drunk two glasses of wine, he felt better.

“You’re coming around, I can tell,” Dino said.

“I feel nearly normal,” Stone said.

The waitress came back with two slices of apple pie. “On me,” she said, with a broad smile and a wink.

“Has Holly seen the magazine?” Dino asked.

“God, I hope not.”

“Well, you can hope.”

“I told her it was inoffensive.”

“It was inoffensive, you just aren’t used to seeing yourself described in print. Do you know what names I’ve been called since I got this job and the media suddenly found out who I was?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not. At least Just Folks was complimentary.”

“If I try to eat that pie I’m going to throw up,” Stone said.

“Take one bite — you don’t want to insult the woman. Then we’ll get out of here.”

Stone choked down a bite, and Dino got them out of there and back into his car. Shortly they were at Stone’s front door.

“Don’t drink any more tonight,” Dino said, “or you’ll have a terrible hangover in the morning, and that will make things even worse.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Stone said. He got the front door open, went upstairs, stripped, and fell into bed.

The phone rang, but he didn’t answer it.

Stone sat down at his desk and began to make work motions. Joan came in and inspected him closely. “You’re not as hung over as I thought you’d be.”

“Dino got me through the evening. He insisted we go out in public.”

“Exactly the right thing to do.”

“Joan, do you know who the people are, two doors down the street, to the left?”

“No clue.”

“I want you to order a dozen red roses and have them left on the doorstep, with a card reading ‘Darling, I can’t wait to see you.’”

“Stone, do you know these people?”

“No, but they seem to know me all of a sudden. Make sure the flowers can’t be traced to me.”

“I’ll buy them at the Korean market and deliver them myself.”

“Just leave them on the doorstep.”

“As you wish.”

“And if anybody asks, you know nothing.”

“I always know nothing,” she replied, then left the room. Stone heard the outside door close a minute later. He went through yesterday’s messages and didn’t find a single one that wasn’t from a woman he didn’t know.

The phone rang, and since Joan was out rose shopping, he answered. “Stone Barrington.”

“It’s Gloria.”

“Go away,” he said, and hung up. A couple of minutes later it rang again. “Stone Barrington.”

“It was a joke,” she said. “Tell you what, I’ll make it up to you this evening.”

“It was a bad joke,” he said. “And it’s made my life miserable. I meant it when I said go away, and if you ever print my name in your rag again, I’ll make your life miserable.” He hung up emphatically.

Joan came back. “The roses are delivered,” she said.

“Good. Now lock the front door, and don’t open it to anyone bearing roses, male or female. And if Gloria Parsons ever calls again, don’t say a word, just hang up, and if she calls back, keep hanging up.”

“Gotcha,” Joan said, sounding pleased. The phone rang, and Joan picked up. “The Barrington Group.” She covered the receiver. “Madam Secretary on one.”

Stone picked up. “Yes, I’ll speak to her.”

“You are speaking to her,” Holly said.

“Oh. I’d grown accustomed to something more formal.”

“I had a word with her.”

“Thank you.”

“I finally got around to reading the piece in Just Folks .”

“I’m sorry about that. I hadn’t read it thoroughly when I told you it was inoffensive.”

“It was inoffensive — to me. How about you?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I don’t blame you a bit, and I won’t bring it up again. Official change of subject — have you spoken to your yacht captain about our cruise?”

“Not yet.”

“Now would be a good time. He’ll be getting a lot of calls, and he needs to be warned that all this is top secret, and he could end up in Leavenworth if he or any of his crew blabs to anybody at all, at sea or ashore.”

“I’ll get that done right away.”

“Are you all right, Stone? You sound a little depressed.”

“I was a little depressed. I’m better now.”

“Good. Take care.”

Stone looked up the number of the yacht’s captain and called.

“Good morning, this is Captain Joe.”

“Good morning, Captain, this is Stone Barrington. How are you?”

“Very well, Mr. Barrington. What can I do for you?”

“Got a pencil?”

“Yes.”

“Please have the yacht in Key West on the first day, docked at the Coast Guard facility and ready for a serious going-over.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I hope that won’t interfere with your holiday schedule or that of your crew.”

“No, sir, it won’t. How long a cruise?”

“A week, itinerary to be determined, but we will want to visit mostly isolated places around the Keys.”

“How about Fort Jefferson?”

“That’s west of Key West?”

“Yes. It’s a pre — Civil War fort, nicely restored. Dr. Samuel Mudd, who set John Wilkes Booth’s leg after the Lincoln assassination, was imprisoned there and became a hero for putting down a yellow fever epidemic.”

“I recall that from my school days.”

“It’s very isolated, only a few daily visitors by yacht and a daily seaplane. Gorgeous beach on a neighboring island, nobody on it.”

“Ideal.”

“I can find other interesting anchorages, as well.”

“Good. Are any of your crew not American citizens?”

“Our cook is Italian, but she has a green card.”

“Good. You’re going to get a call — perhaps many calls — from the United States Secret Service, and they’re going to want the name, date of birth, and Social Security number of each of your crew.”

“Roger.”

“Are you beginning to get the idea, Cap?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“Then you’ll understand, and impress upon your crew, that they are not to share any information about our cruise with any living person of any persuasion.”