Стюарт Вудс - Foul Play

“You should be: it’s costing you a hell of a lot of money. Just staying alive can be expensive at times.”

Stone picked up a house phone in his study. “May I speak to the head of the Secret Service detail, please?”

“Of course, Mr. Barrington.”

“Jack Dunn,” a voice said.

“Agent Dunn, this is Stone Barrington.”

“How are you, Mr. Barrington? I’m afraid it will be another two hours before she’s in the residence. She instructed me to tell you that dinner will be at seven o’clock, in the cottage between the two houses.” The two houses were Stone’s and the Presidential Mansion, kept by the hotel for visiting heads of state or tycoons who were willing to pay outrageously for lodging.

“Thank you, Jack. I’ll see her then.” He hung up and found Shep Troutman at his elbow.

“Dad is continuing his nap,” he said. “Where’s this cottage where you’re having dinner?”

“Next door. A friend of mine is staying at the large house beyond that, and we’re meeting halfway. You and your father will be dining here, at six-thirty.”

“I guess that’s satisfactory.”

“I hope so, because you’re not getting off the ranch while we’re here. You’d probably run into someone you know in the hotel dining room. Or someone you don’t want to know.”

“I get the picture,” Shep said.

“By the way, I’m keeping your cell phone, but you can make outgoing calls on the house phones. Not a word about where you are, though, or all this money will have been wasted.”

“I take your point.”

“Why didn’t you bring Phil with you?”

“I asked her, but she declined. She has a commission to finish and a business to run, she said.”

“She probably didn’t take to being shot at, either.”

“You could say that.”

“Few people do, and you want to avoid them.”

“Good advice.”

“Good advice is my work,” Stone said. “Not taking it can be dangerous.”

“Stone, I don’t need impressing any further, please.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Why don’t you go and have a chat with the butler about what you’d like for dinner and what wines you’d prefer? You may order anything to eat but foie gras.”

“Why not foie gras?”

“It has to come from out of state. We’d have to find a bootlegger.”

“Who’s your friend next door?” Shep asked.

“That’s a state secret,” Stone replied.

“That gives me a hint.”

“Try and appreciate it, because it’s all you’re going to get out of me.”

“Aha!”

“Careful. If you get too curious, somebody will have to shoot you in the head.”

“My curiosity is quelled,” Shep said, then went upstairs.

Stone had not entered the cottage for a long time. He had forgotten how charming it was. A merry fire burned in the living room fireplace, which was nice for the chilly California nights, and a huge sofa faced the hearth.

She sneaked up behind him. “Hello, stranger,” she said.

Stone jumped, then turned to receive both her and the drink in her hand. She kissed him on the ear with a flick of her tongue. “You always remember what I like,” he said, sipping the bourbon.

“It helps that we both drink the same booze,” she said. “And that we both have tongues.”

“Good point.”

“I locked the door behind you, so we can’t be disturbed, except by the butler, who has been ordered not to emerge until I ring for him.”

They fell onto the big sofa, and she arranged her legs across his lap. He had not realized until then that she was wearing nothing under a silken garment, and that could be seen through, just a bit.

“I can see your nipples,” he said.

“Oh, good. That will make them easier to find when you start looking. Let’s finish our drinks, first, though. I like a little buzz with my sex.”

“How do you manage when I’m not around?” he asked.

“I have a secretary who likes to browse in sex shops. Now and then she smuggles in a toy for me.”

“Sounds like you hardly need me.”

“If you’d like to be useful, you can switch it on later.”

“I hope I can be more useful than that.”

“I’m sure you will be,” she said, “based on past experience.”

They finished their drinks and toyed with each other until hunger overtook them.

“Are you ready to dine?”

“Whenever you are.”

“I bought you a gift,” she said, reaching behind her and retrieving a large box, tied with a bow.

He opened it and found a dark blue silk dressing gown with white polka dots. “Oh, very nice,” he said.

“One can shop at Turnbull & Asser online these days.”

He stood up and tossed his loose clothing on a chair, then slipped into the robe. “Feels wonderful on the skin.”

Holly picked up a little silver bell and gave it a ring. “Dinner now,” she said, standing up and leading him to the table, pausing along the way to slip on another garment to conceal her semi-nakedness.

They sat down and the butler brought their first courses, each under a little dome. He snatched the covers away.

“Foie gras!” he exclaimed. “Wherever did you find it?”

“I brought it from the White House,” she said. “I knew you would be feeling deprived.”

“I certainly was.” He tasted a bite. “Just perfect.”

They were served a roast duck as a main course, and the butler carved for them. Finally, he brought a slice of pineapple upside-down cake, with a scoop of rum raisin ice cream on top, a favorite of his.

They moved back to the sofa and dawdled over cognac.

“Whatever have you been up to?” Holly asked.

“I’m hiding a client and his father from some evil Russians.”

“Which evil Russians?”

“Fellow named Kronk.”

Her eyebrows went up. “That name crossed my desk — or rather, the Situation Room table — earlier this week. My people wanted to throw him out of the country, but unfortunately, he is a naturalized American citizen.”

“I think you can take it for granted that, if that is so, his application for citizenship was somehow fraudulent.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because everything about him is somehow fraudulent. Right now, I’m in the not-so-enviable position of possessing something he will, very shortly, desperately need.” He explained about the patents.

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“I’m going to try to think of a way to use them to get him off my client’s back.”

“And out of the country for good?”

“That is devoutly to be wished, but more than I could ever come up with.”

“Let me see what I can do to help,” she said.

“If you can, do it without ever mentioning my name,” Stone said.

“Not speaking your name is not a problem. Dealing with Kronk may be.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Have you spoken to Lance Cabot about him?” she asked.

“Not yet. I was saving that for when I had an actual idea about what might be done about Kronk.”

“Then don’t. Let’s try and go around Lance this time.”

“That will be fine, as long as he never finds out. If he does, he’ll never let me forget it.”

“You forget that before I was in the White House, I was Lance’s assistant. Nobody knows him better.”

“That’s good, because Lance always seems to be one jump ahead of me.”

“That is Lance’s specialty,” Holly said. “Maybe we can go through Lance, if whatever I learn can be proposed to him as your idea, which he can take credit for.”

Stone laughed. “I like the sound of that. I hope Lance has not replaced one of my buttons with a microphone,” he said.