Stuart Woods - Lucid Intervals

“No, I’m afraid not. If you have something important to tell me, you’ll have to wait for me to call you again. Good-bye.” Hackett hung up.

Stone hung up and walked back into the bedroom, where Felicity was waiting for him, sitting up in bed, reading something from her briefcase.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked.

“A client.”

“Do clients often call you at this hour?”

“Sometimes. I can’t refuse to speak to a client, whatever the hour may be.”

“Was it Hackett?” she asked.

“Go to sleep,” Stone said, kissing her on the cheek.

She closed the file, put it back into her briefcase, reset the combination lock, then switched off her bedside lamp.

“You’re fired,” she said. “I hope that will make it easier for you to deal with this.”

“Maybe it will,” Stone said, switching off his lamp.

STONE WOKE UP later than usual, and Felicity was gone. She had left a note on the bed, saying that she would meet him for dinner at Elaine’s.

Stone showered, shaved, dressed and went down to his office, where Helene brought him a light breakfast at his desk.

Joan buzzed him. “Mr. Fisher to see you.”

Stone sighed. “Send him in.”

Herbie came in and sat down. “It’s going very well with Stephanie,” he said. “I may have to get you to do a prenup yet.”

“Herbie, slow down,” Stone said. “You’re going to have to learn to restrain yourself sometimes if you’re ever going to grow up.”

“You think I’m not grown up?”

“Not quite yet, Herbie.”

“I want to buy a jet airplane,” Herbie said. “I can afford it.”

“How much money do you have left, Herbie?”

“A little over ten million.”

“You could buy a used jet airplane for around two million,” Stone said, “but flying it and maintaining it would cost a lot every month. You’d have to hire a pilot, maybe a copilot, too, depending on which airplane you bought, and when something breaks on a jet, Herbie, it is very, very expensive to repair.”

“Oh,” Herbie said. “I didn’t know that.”

“I suggest you explore the idea of first class on the airlines.”

“I don’t like the airport experience,” Herbie replied. “I especially don’t like going through security. They always suspect me of something.”

“Then join one of the share programs,” Stone suggested.

“I’ve seen those in magazine ads. Which one should I join?”

“I don’t have any experience with that, Herbie. I suggest you call, say, three of them, then compare the deals.”

“How much does it cost?”

“Again, I don’t know, but it will depend on the size of the jet you buy into.”

“Okay, I’ll look into it,” Herbie said, getting up. “I’ll tell Stephanie to come see you about the prenup.”

“Herbie,” Stone said, “tell her attorney to call me. Please.”

IN THE EARLY afternoon, Joan came into Stone’s office and handed him a sheet of paper with a number on it. “The bank called,” she said. “We received a wire transfer from London in that amount, which is, I assume, your fee from Felicity in dollars.”

Stone looked at the number. “I see the dollar is down against the pound,” he said, smiling. “First time I ever got a good deal on a currency exchange. Go spend it.”

Joan did so.

Stone met Dino at Elaine’s for dinner, and they were on their second drink before Felicity arrived, looking oddly happy.

“I was going to ask what’s wrong,” Stone said, “but I suppose, given your mien, I should ask what’s right.”

“You are very perceptive,” she said. “What’s right is that I appear to have won.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to say what you’ve won in the presence of Lieutenant Bacchetti,” Stone said, nodding at Dino.

“My lips are sealed,” Dino said.

“I don’t distrust your lips, Dino,” Felicity replied, “but forgive me if I talk in riddles.”

“Riddle away.” Dino went back to his drink and ogled a young woman at the bar.

Felicity leaned in close to Stone. “I’ve won the argument with my betters.”

“Whitestone?” Stone mouthed.

“Have you ever heard of lip reading?” Felicity asked. “And you’re facing the window.”

“Whitestone?” Stone whispered without moving his lips.

“Yes, that argument,” she replied. “I believe the contretemps involving my former colleague has abated, to the point of nonexistence.”

“How did you manage that?”

“My hint that I might discuss the situation with those outside my service seemed to do the trick.”

“You mean your betters are afraid of being exposed?”

“Exactly. I don’t think anyone in my position has ever even hinted at a public discussion of any matter.”

“You got their attention, then,” Stone said. “I congratulate you. I tried that with the NYPD once, and it got me early retirement.”

“I’m too young to retire,” Felicity said, “but my betters are not. I think visions of questions in Parliament followed by lurid headlines finally did the trick.”

“Should I let my client know?”

“I think you may do so,” she said. “Do you know how to reach him?”

“Now that you mention it, no.”

“Well, next time he reaches you, then.”

“Will do.”

“Tell me, did you tell him that his little trick with the cemetery plot didn’t work?”

“I can’t divulge a conversation with a client,” Stone said, “or even that such a conversation has taken place, but I have reason to believe that he is aware that that little jig is up.”

“Good. I shouldn’t like him to think that he can fool me so easily.”

“If I should ever speak to him again,” Stone said, “I will convey that thought to him.”

“Yes, please.”

WHEN STONE GOT home, the message light on his bedside phone was blinking. He pushed the necessary buttons to get the recording and heard the now-familiar voice from a barrel.

“A flight plan will be filed for you tomorrow morning for a departure at ten a.m. local,” Hackett said. “You may get your routing from Teterboro Clearance Delivery. Pack for two nights.” Hackett hung up.

“Was that your client?” Felicity asked from the other side of the bed.

“If it were, I couldn’t tell you,” Stone replied.

“Well, if you’re finished with your telephonery, would you kindly devote your attention to me?”

Stone got out of his clothes and did so, taking her in his arms and kissing her.

“I received payment from the Foreign Office today,” he said between kisses.

“I’m so glad our business has been concluded,” Felicity said, moving his hand to a receptive part of her anatomy, while taking a part of his in her hand. “Is there lubricant available?” she asked.

Stone reached for a bedside drawer and produced a small bottle, squirting it at the appropriate places.

“Much better,” she said, moving her hand.

They continued until both of them had achieved a satisfactory conclusion.

“By the way,” Stone said before they fell asleep, “I’m going to be away for the next couple of nights.”

“I have only a few days left in New York,” Felicity said, “so don’t be away too long.”

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Stone drove to Teterboro, did a thorough preflight inspection on Hackett’s Mustang, then got into the cockpit and started the engines. When he had run through the lengthy checklist, he called Clearance Delivery. The controller gave him a routing that took him north for a few miles, then northeast across Connecticut and Massachusetts and into Maine. To his surprise, his destination was Islesboro, where his own Maine house was.