Hit List (Stone Barrington #53)(7)
Stone got a call on his cell phone; caller ID read: VANESSA BAKER. He hesitated to answer, then did anyway.
“Hi, there,” he said. “How are you?” Vanessa had recently been an inadvertent target of a poisoner but seemed fully recovered now.
“You didn’t come to the funeral,” she said. The funeral she referred to had been that of her mother, who had been involved with a Russian spy group that had been raided by CIA personnel. Betty Baker had been shot and died on the spot.
“I’m afraid that was deliberate,” Stone said.
“A lot of other people didn’t show up, either—people she thought of as her friends. There was no public announcement, but I sent out an e-mail notice of the time and place.”
“I got it, and I apologize for not responding.”
“Hardly anyone else did, either.”
“Vanessa, has it occurred to you that she wasn’t anybody’s friend? She committed treason, and even if she had lived through the raid she would have been convicted and sentenced to death. At least, she was spared that fate.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Frankly, I wouldn’t have been there myself, except that she was my mother, and I loved her.”
“I can understand that. Dino and I are having dinner here tonight. Would you like to join us?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I’d love to. I need to get out of the house.”
“It’s casual, come at six-thirty for drinks.”
“All right. See you then.” She hung up.
He buzzed Joan and asked her to let Helene, his housekeeper and cook, know they’d be three for dinner.
His cell phone rang again, and he picked it up. “Scramble,” Lance said.
Stone scrambled. “Yes?”
“I had a word with our tech guy who straightened out your security system. He tends to agree with you, that your interloper might, indeed, have worked for us at one time. He says that you said the man had plans of the house.”
“That is so,” Stone replied. “Where else could he have gotten those, except from the people who did the work, namely you and yours?”
“I’ve got people working on the records of everybody who has left us in the past few years.”
“It occurs to me that he could have been a member of the team who installed the equipment,” Stone said.
“That occurred to us as well, and the thought makes me very uncomfortable.”
“You must have people leave you all the time for work in the private sector,” Stone said.
“Yes, but not as many as you might think. Our people who are contentedly employed here tend to stay for the pension. They’re civil servants, after all. It’s those who are malcontented in some way—maybe they’ve been treated in ways they think are harsh; maybe they didn’t get a promotion they wanted, that sort of thing.”
“Understandable,” Stone said. “Let me know what you come up with.”
“I’m sure you’ll be speaking to Dino,” Lance said. “Please ask him to send me the ballistics report in the case of the dead adman.”
“All right.”
Lance hung up.
* * *
—
That evening, Dino arrived first. Stone passed on Lance’s request for the ballistics report.
“I think you and Lance could be on the right track,” Dino said. “A witness to the shooting said the pistol was silenced, and I’m sure Lance’s armory is bulging with that sort of thing. I’ll get the report to him first thing in the morning.”
The doorbell rang, and Stone checked the video screen on the phone before buzzing in Vanessa. He greeted her at the study door, then fixed her a drink. She and Dino embraced.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“Did you have a lot of press at the funeral?”
“No, the incident doesn’t seem to have made the papers yet. I guess Lance is keeping it quiet, and I’m grateful for that.”
“How are you feeling?” Dino asked.
“Perfectly normal, physically,” she said, “but a little depressed.”
“That’s to be expected in the circumstances,” he said.
Stone fixed Dino another drink, and Fred appeared in the doorway. “Dinner at seven,” he said.
“Thank you, Fred.”
“I read in the paper about this list Stone got,” Vanessa said. “Have you two made any headway on that?”
“Not yet,” Stone said. He told her about the security tech.
“That’s scary,” she said.
“Lance is working on it from his end. He thinks the man might be ex-Agency.”
“No,” Dino said, “that’s what you think.”
“Let’s just say that Lance is coming around to my way of thinking,” Stone replied.
* * *
—
Dinner arrived, one of Helene’s Greek creations that everyone enjoyed.
“Stone,” Vanessa said, “do you think the Russians could be behind this death-list thing?”
Stone shook his head. “I don’t think so. After all, the only Russian I’ve had anything to do with lately is Yevgeny Chekhov, and Lance has him locked up.”