Стюарт Вудс - Shakeup

“You may. Then I can satisfy my curiosity.”

Curiosity about what? he wondered. “Your driver can park the car off the street,” he said, using his remote control to open the garage door.

“Pull in there, Terry,” she said, and the driver did.

Stone took her inside and pointed down the hallway. “My home office is down there.” Then he took her upstairs.

“I love this,” she said, admiring the living room.

“And this is my study,” Stone said, showing her in and settling her on the sofa facing the fireplace. He picked up a phone. “May I have coffee for two, please?” He hung up. “Would you like an after-lunch drink?” he asked.

“Just some club soda with ice,” she replied. He poured it and sat down.

“Tell me about the rest of the house,” she said.

“Well, as I said, my office is downstairs, my secretary’s, too. Down there is a small gym and the kitchen, which faces the common garden around which all the houses in Turtle Bay are built. Upstairs, there are two floors of guest rooms and one more floor up is the master suite. I also own the house next door, where my staff live, and the two houses together give me a large garage, which you have just seen.”

Fred came in with the coffee and Stone introduced the two. “Would your driver like some coffee, Maren? Or you can send him home, and Fred will deliver you to your hotel whenever you like.”

“Fred,” she said, “would you please tell my driver that he’s finished for the day and can leave?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Fred said, and left.

“Now I’ll have that after-lunch drink: Grand Marnier, if you have it.”

“I have it in abundance,” Stone said, then poured them each one. “May I ask you the question you are most often asked?”

“Six feet, in my stocking feet,” she replied. “It helps when the need arises to intimidate a special agent.”

“I can imagine,” Stone said. “What else may I do for you?”

She gave him a warm smile. “I’ll give you a hint,” she replied. “It’s most easily accomplished from a kneeling position.”

“Are you sure that’s what you’d like?”

“Very much,” she replied.

Stone got up and closed the door.

They had adjusted their clothing and were finishing their drinks when the doorbell rang. Stone picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“It’s Dino.”

Stone pressed a button and heard Dino enter the house. “It’s Dino Bacchetti,” he said to Maren.

“How does my lipstick look?” she asked.

“Perfect.”

Dino knocked on the study door. “Come in!” Stone answered.

The door opened. “Why was the door closed?” he asked.

“There was a draft,” Stone replied. “This is the FBI’s deputy director for criminal investigations, Maren Gustav,” he said. “She’s taken over the Clark business.”

Dino shook her hand and pulled up a chair. He looked at them oddly, as if something were amiss.

“We’re having Grand Marnier,” Stone said. “Can I get you something?”

Dino stood and walked to the bar. “I’ll get myself a Scotch,” he replied, then did so and returned to his seat.

“Well, Director,” Dino said. “How did you come to be on this case?”

“Since one of the victims, Ms. Carlyle, was a federal employee, that makes this a federal case. The president personally asked me to take it over.”

“I’m an admirer of the president’s judgment,” Dino said.

“Thank you.”

“Welcome to the case. It will be nice having someone in charge who is not in the bag or an idiot.”

Maren laughed. “Thank you again.”

“Has Stone taken you through the case?”

“Let’s say that we have left no Stone unturned,” she replied.

Dino’s eyes narrowed. “Have you an opinion of whom we should suspect?” he asked.

“I believe that there are at least two suspects, possibly more,” Maren said. “And one abettor.”

“Do you have enough for an arrest?” he asked.

“Not until we turn one of them.”

“Who’s your candidate for turning?”

“I think Little Debby is the stupidest, so let’s start with her; I’ll go see her on my return to Washington.”

“And when will that be?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Is Viv in town?” Stone asked.

“She is,” Dino replied.

“Maren, will you join the Bacchettis and me for dinner?”

“I’d love to. I’d like a little nap and to freshen up. May I do that here, instead of returning to my hotel?”

“Of course,” Stone said. “Let me show you upstairs. Excuse me for a moment, Dino.”

“Go right ahead.”

Stone took her up in the elevator and led her to the master suite.

“This is lovely,” she said. “I believe I owe you something.” Her hand wandered to his zipper.

“You may repay after dinner,” Stone said. “I shouldn’t keep Dino waiting. There are arrests to be made in this city.” He kissed her on the forehead and left her to it.

Dino was gazing into the fire, sipping his Scotch when Stone returned. “I booked us into Patroon, in your absence.”

“Thank you.”

“What the fuck was going on when I arrived? There was something in the air.”

“There was no fucking going on,” Stone replied firmly. “You’re not happy, are you, unless you suspect someone of something.”

“I’m usually right,” Dino said. “I must say, the quality of management at the Bureau is improving.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“How do you find these women?”

“Holly sent this one.”

“I guess she feels guilty about leaving you without sex.”

“Nonsense. I asked her to goose the FBI to get moving on this, and she went right to the top. Maren happened to be in New York on other business.”

“She sounds like she’s planning to winter here.”

“Okay with me.”

“Am I keeping you from her side, so to speak?”

“You are not. She wants a nap, and I am content with your company, for the time being. Did you call Viv?”

“I did, and she approved our dinner plans.”

They had settled into their booth at Patroon, where Maren had insisted that she be seated facing the door. “The gunfighter’s seat,” she had explained.

They had just placed their orders when Stone saw Maren’s eyes dart toward the entrance. “Opposition?” he asked quietly. He half-expected her to produce a weapon.

“My boss likes to think so,” she replied. “He thinks I want his job.”

A tall, distinguished-looking man suddenly appeared at their tableside.

“Good evening, Maren,” he said to her.

“Good evening, Director,” she replied. “May I introduce my companions?”

“Mr. Barrington and Commissioner Bacchetti and I have met, but I’m not acquainted with your other lovely guest.”

“This is Vivian Bacchetti,” Maren replied.

“I should have guessed,” he replied, shaking her hand. “You’re with Strategic Services, are you not?”

“I am,” Viv said.

“Please give my warm regards to Mike Freeman,” he said.

“Certainly.”

“If you’ll all excuse me, my dinner guest is waiting.” He half-turned, then stopped. “And, Maren,” he said. “I don’t want to see this on your expense account.”

“Ms. Gustav is my guest,” Stone said quickly.

“Good.” He walked away from their table and took a seat at a table across the room, where an attractive woman awaited.

“Who’s the female?” Viv asked Maren.

“Oh, that is Ms. Not-His-Wife,” she replied. “I’m filing that as an arrow in my quiver.”

Everybody laughed.

“And thank you for being courtly, Stone.”

“Why? You didn’t think you were paying, did you?”