Стюарт Вудс - Stealth

“Of course. Questions?” the colonel asked.

“Just one,” Stone replied. “Does this mean that the Ministry of Defence will be paying for Dame Felicity’s replacement vehicle?”

“Ah, yes,” the colonel said. “I have spoken to the minister, and he has agreed to that. The dealer will be posting your check back to you.”

“Oh, good. Please let them know that delivery of the replacement vehicle will take place in less than two weeks, so they shouldn’t be slow to issue their own check.”

“Noted.”

“And will you be offering the Russians their corpse back in return for reimbursement?” Stone asked, trying not to laugh.

“No, we think it is more in our interests for the earth to swallow him up and let the Russians stew about what happened to their man.”

“I see.”

“It occurs to me that, given your lack of transport, you might wish to take advantage of one of our vehicles going to Glasgow for servicing tomorrow. You can take the overnight train to London from there.”

“Thank you, it is rather a long taxi ride to Glasgow, isn’t it?”

The colonel rose, walked around his desk, and stood Stone’s crutches up for him. Stone got to his good foot and thanked him.

The colonel offered his hand. “Thank you for your enthusiastic acceptance of our rather rude conditions here, and good luck to you.”

Stone shook the hand and made his way to the door.

“The car will depart from here at seven AM tomorrow morning, and there will be another passenger, as well. The drive to Glasgow is about four hours; the road is not exactly a motorway.”

Stone thanked him again and made his way to his quarters, where he packed his gear, then stretched out on his bed for a nap. Later, he woke up long enough to call his travel agent and book a suite aboard the train from Glasgow to London, then he went back to sleep and stayed that way until the following morning.

Stone was awakened by the bell at six AM. He showered, shaved, and dressed, then he turned his luggage over to a young private and went to the mess hall for breakfast. Rose was nowhere to be seen, and he decided not to wake her so early. Anyway, he didn’t know where she was quartered.

He left the building at seven and found a large BMW saloon waiting for him; he also found Rose in the rear seat. “Good morning,” he said, giving his crutches to the private and getting into the car. “I didn’t know you were coming, and I didn’t know where to look for you.”

“My locum ended on Saturday,” she said, “and I was invited to share your car — or rather, the colonel’s BMW.”

“I would have thought they would service it here,” Stone said.

“They do that with the utility vehicles,” she said, “but not with the colonel’s car. It goes to an authorized dealer.”

They drove away, crossing the bridge where the Aston Martin had met its fate. “Did you hear about the sniper?” he asked Rose.

“The talk around the base is of nothing else,” she replied. “Apparently, it’s not their first intrusion here. The colonel thinks it’s good for morale to kill an intruder now and then. Keeps everybody on their toes.”

They drove quickly across the nearly bare Highlands landscape, the monotony occasionally broken by a stand of evergreens, which the Scots called a “plantation.” Three hours later the landscape became more welcoming, with the sight of oaks and other deciduous trees, and the appearance of villages and houses. Then, in Glasgow, they were dropped at the main station, and found a porter and their train.

“I’ve booked a suite,” Stone said to her. “Please join me.”

“I intend to,” she said, “in more ways than one.”

A twenty-pound note was of help in arranging for Rose’s pre-booked room to be one adjoining his suite, so she could have the smaller accommodation as a dressing room with its own shower.

When they were settled into their comfortable sitting room, Stone produced a bottle of Knob Creek from his bag. “Are you feeling adventurous?” he asked, holding it up.

“I expect I will be, after a dose of that,” she replied.

Stone poured them each one, and she sampled hers judiciously. “My word,” she said. “That is quite drinkable for a foreign spirit.”

“Speaking for my country, and the state of Kentucky, I thank you for your broad-mindedness.” Shortly, they had another.

The train moved, and Rose said, “I’m feeling a bit peckish. Shall we be among the first for the first seating in the dining car?”

“Of course.”

They made their way to the next car and were seated immediately. Industrial Glasgow was passing their window, but soon it gave way to a more rural vista. The sun was already setting.

“It gets dark early at this latitude this time of year,” Stone said.

“I expect it’s one of the reasons so few people reside in the Scottish Highlands,” she replied.

They ordered the lamb and Stone found a decent claret on the wine list. After dinner they took a couple of large cognacs with them back to their suite, and soon they were once again entwined in bed.

“What time do we get to King’s Cross Station?” Stone asked, kissing her ear.

“Quite early, so we’ll miss rush hour. Still, we have a good seven hours to go.”

“Barely enough time for this,” Stone said, turning his attention to another area of her physique.

“Take all the time you need,” she said.

When they were sated they sat up in bed, tended to their cognac, and watched the Scottish Lowlands fly by their window, under a half-moon.

“When do you have to be back at work?” Stone asked.

“A week from tomorrow,” she replied.

“Then why don’t you join me for a night at the Connaught, followed by several days at my house on the Beaulieu River, in Hampshire.”

“What a nice invitation. Will I have time to restock my wardrobe?”

“Certainly, and you will have room for whatever you want to bring. It’s a roomy car.”

“Then I accept.”

They finished their cognac, then turned again to each other.

At King’s Cross they found a taxi and had a fairly quick drive to the Connaught Hotel, in light traffic. Stone gave her the cab to drive her home. “What time will I see you?”

“Oh, by the cocktail hour, I expect.”

“I’ll let the front desk know you’re coming.” Stone sent her on her way and checked in. He was relieved that his suite was ready, and he managed a couple more hours of sleep.

Later, Rose was escorted up to the suite by an assistant manager, and her bags were set up on folding racks.

“Where are we dining?” she asked.

“At Harry’s Bar,” Stone replied. “Do you know it?”

“Only by reputation.”

“I predict that you will like it.”

“May we have a dance at Annabel’s later?”

“I’m very much afraid that Annabel’s is now Annabel’s in name only, having been closed by its new owners and moved next door. I was a member for a long time, and I was told nothing about all this. I was also told that if I wanted to be a member of the new club I would have to reapply and give references. I asked if I might see the new club before making that decision and was told only members could enter. I decided that I did not wish to belong to a club who would treat an old member in that manner, so I declined to reapply. It’s a pity, because I loved the original.”

At dinnertime they took the five-minute walk to Harry’s Bar and were given a corner table.

“Stone,” Rose said, when their drinks arrived, “did you notice, on our drive to Glasgow, that there seemed to be another vehicle following us?”

“I did not. I was wedged into my seat with my foot on the front armrest, so turning around would have been uncomfortable.”