Стюарт Вудс - Stealth

“Of course,” Wilfred said, “but our Russian friends, who are artful in these things, have a substance said to be made from two common household ingredients, which, when mixed, make a poison that works in a few minutes and is chemically untraceable.”

“What are the ingredients?” Roger asked.

“I don’t know — and I don’t want to know,” Wilfred replied. “If they became public knowledge there would be an immediate rash of unexplained domestic deaths in this country and around the world.”

“I suppose so,” Roger said. “But the Russians have it?”

“They are geniuses at poisoning. Take, for example, the deaths of former GRU agents in Britain.”

“Yes, but those don’t meet the standard of being untraceable. They were analyzed quite quickly.”

“That was the old days, so to speak. With this poison we have entered a new era. In fact, if we were able to introduce it into the food or drink of these three people, it would be the first professional use of the poison — that we know of.”

“Ah, yes, ‘that we know of.’”

“In order to accomplish our mission as planned,” Wilfred said, “they would have to die at a meal or at tea, then be removed to a bedroom, undressed, and suitably posed and shot.”

Roger shook his head. “I fail to see how such a mission could be accomplished with my skills alone.”

“Perhaps we could have a complimentary dessert delivered to the house from someone they know and trust.”

“For instance?”

“Perhaps from the Duke of Kensington.”

“Your father?”

“My father once was an officer in MI-6, and his father served in Britain’s Special Operations Executive during World War II. The current duke has had Felicity and Barrington to dinner in his London house.”

“Rose, too?”

“No, but we have to convince only Felicity and Barrington of the genuineness of the gift.”

“But why would the duke, out of the blue, send them pastries?”

“A good point,” Wilfred said. “Let’s set aside the poisoning for the moment and discuss other methods.”

“Good,” Roger replied, relieved.

“There are also your skills with the pistol and, particularly, the knife.”

“A woman does not kill two lovers with a knife, then commit suicide by the same method.”

“I was bypassing the suicide and going straight to murder.”

“That would deprive us of besmirching the reputation of Dame Felicity,” Roger pointed out.

“Let’s call it a last resort,” Wilfred said.

“Right. How about wine?”

“How do we induce them to drink it?” Wilfred asked.

“We’d need something really special, like a Château Lafite Rothschild 1929, or 1945.”

“And how would we obtain that?”

“At auction,” Roger said, “but it would cost many thousands of pounds.”

Wilfred shook his head. “Our Russian friends, while generous, do not dispense hard currency with alacrity.”

“If we could obtain a bottle, we could fill it with a lesser, more affordable wine, then reseal it.”

“But where would one find an empty Lafite ’29 bottle?” Wilfred asked.

They both thought about it for a while.

“I’m stumped,” Roger said.

They thought some more.

“Let me present you with another alternative,” Wilfred said, rising from his seat and going to a bookcase filled with bound volumes. He took down two and put them on his desk.”

Roger opened one. The title page read: The Short Oxford English Dictionary.

“I bound these myself,” Wilfred said. “The two volumes are more manageable than the entire twenty-volume set.” He opened one nearer the center, to reveal its contents. “Plastique explosive, a detonator, and a cell phone,” he said, pointing to each item. “In both volumes. Perhaps under the bed for setting off at the appropriate moment.”

“How would you deliver the package?” Roger asked.

“Our Russian friends have a large variety of skills at their disposal,” Wilfred said. “I will engage them and get back to you.”

“Thank you,” Roger said, relieved. “I’m perfectly willing to kill them all, but I don’t want to get caught doing it.”

“I understand,” Wilfred replied. “Let’s discuss time.”

“When I had dinner there before, it was called for seven,” Roger said. “Felicity and I arrived by boat, at Barrington’s dock.”

“Where did you dine, and how was the wine handled?”

“We dined in the library, and the wine was already on the table, ready for decanting. I suppose the butler had brought it from the cellar.”

“You will have to find a way to have access to the wine for, perhaps, half a minute.”

“If dinner is at seven, then at six, Barrington and Rose will be dressing for dinner.”

“Then there’s your opportunity,” Wilfred said.

Thursday morning, Felicity’s boatman delivered two bottles of claret to the kitchen, and Stone inspected them: a Château Palmer 1961 and a Mouton Rothschild 1978. He set them upright in a corner of the kitchen. “I’ll decant these at table tomorrow night,” he said to the cook. “Please leave them as they are until then.”

Lance got into his office on Friday morning at eight, as usual. He was surprised to find the deputy director for operations, his DDO, awaiting him in his reception room, sipping coffee.

“Good morning, Hugh,” Lance said. He unlocked his office door with his code. “Come in, please. You’re up early.”

The two men took seats on the sofa in Lance’s office, and he poured himself coffee from a thermos his secretary had left there. “More?”

“Thank you, yes,” Hugh English said, pushing his mug over.

Lance poured the coffee. “What brings you to see me?”

Hugh handed him two sheets of paper. “This came in late yesterday. I’m afraid the transmission was very broken, but what’s there is of concern.”

Lance read down the two sheets, trying to mentally fill in the gaps. He did not like what he saw. “Where was this recorded?”

“In the basement workshop at a book bindery and antique-book store in London.”

“The one in the Burlington Arcade?”

“That’s it. Owned and operated by Wilfred Thomas, the Earl of Chelsea.”

“Ah, yes, the duke’s third. What do you make of it?”

“It sounds very much, in the earlier part of the transcript, as if the earl has intentions where Felicity Devonshire and Stone Barrington are concerned.”

Lance read the two pages more carefully. “I see what you mean, but I’m unable to discern when, where, or by what means — not from this.”

“Yes, we did better with the early part of the meeting, though we could not identify the second party, and we have been unable to fully read or hear the latter part.”

“Can the recording be enhanced?”

“That is the enhanced version,” English replied.

“Well, there is nothing here that would allow us to mount a defensive operation.”

“That is my opinion, as well.”

“All I can do is warn Stone and Felicity to exercise care in their movements. I will make those calls.”

“Lance, may I ask: Why is Barrington of interest to you?”

“He has been very useful in the past, and I expect him to be more so in the future.”

“To the extent of giving him the deputy director rank?”

“In my judgment, yes. It gives him credibility.”

“But you’ve not made an official announcement.”

“Word will get around quickly,” Lance said. “I’ve seen to that.”

English slapped his knees and rose. “Well, then,” he said, “I suppose I will just have to rely on your judgment.”

“That is so,” Lance said.