Turbulence (Stone Barrington #46)(17)

Stone was chatting idly with Arthur Steele when he looked up to see Senator Joe Box and a beautiful young woman arriving together—followed closely, to his surprise, by Lance Cabot. Lance never talked about his personal life or domestic arrangements, and Stone had never seen him in the company of a woman, so he assumed that Joe Box was escorting the beauty.

The two men shook a few hands, then disappeared into an adjoining room, leaving the woman to fend for herself. Arthur peeled off to talk to someone else, so Stone ambled over to her and introduced himself.

“I’m Kelly Smith,” she said, shaking his hand. “And, before you ask, I model for my supper.”

“An honorable profession,” Stone said.

“And you?”

“Attorney.”

“Honorable sometimes,” she said.

“I noticed that you entered in the company of Senator Box,” he said.

“Yes, we met at a photographer’s studio, where we were both being photographed. Actually, he’s a little old for me, but what the hell?”

“Ah, you want to be careful with Joe Box,” Stone said.

“Oh? How do you mean?”

“I mean that you might not wish to find yourself alone in a room or a back seat with him.”

“Ah, he’s like that, is he? Well, he’s behaved himself so far, but then we haven’t been alone, not for a minute. He has a reputation, does he?”

“I don’t know about that,” Stone said, “since I don’t spend a lot of time in Washington, but someone of my acquaintance found herself in difficult circumstances while in his company.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to mention names?”

“I would not, but she is a truthful person.”

“Maybe I should just fade away before the evening gets much further along,” she said.

“If you should decide to leave early, my car is downstairs, and my driver will be happy to take you wherever you need to go.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she said.

“It’s a green Bentley, and it’s parked near the front door; the driver’s name is Fred. Just catch my eye and draw a finger across your throat, if you’re cutting out. I’ll phone him and tell him you’re on your way.”

“And I won’t find you waiting in the back seat?”

“You will not. I’m expected to be here for the duration, I believe.”

“Have you a business card?” she asked.

He handed her one, and she looked at it. “Doesn’t sound like a business address.”

“I keep an office at my firm, but mostly I work from my home.”

“Well,” she said, “a girl alone in this town can always use a good lawyer. May I come and talk to you about that sometime?”

“Of course, whenever you like.”

“How many people work in your home office?”

“Well, there’s my secretary, Joan, and a Labrador Retriever, who calls himself Bob, and me.”

The butler stepped up to them. “Excuse me, Mr. Barrington, but Mr. Cabot asks that you join him in the library for a moment.”

“Thank you,” Stone said. “Will you excuse me, Kelly?”

“If I must. Who is this Cabot fellow? He rode over with us in the car.”

“He’s the head of the CIA, in his spare time,” Stone replied. “Remember.” He drew a finger across his throat, then left her and went looking for the library.

There were more books on the shelves than Stone would have expected, for someone who had so recently moved in. He wondered if Meg’s designer had bought them by the yard. Lance Cabot and Joe Box were seated on a sofa near the fireplace. Stone took an adjacent chair.

“Good evening, Stone,” Lance said, not bothering to rise. Stone sensed that Box didn’t rise for anyone, except perhaps the president.

“Good evening, Lance. Joe.”

“Ah, you know each other,” Lance said. “Always good when one’s friends are acquainted.”

Dino appeared and joined them, and the butler brought them each another drink. When he had gone, Lance said, “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve called you all together.” This with a small smile. “There is a person, newly at large, with whom all of you are acquainted,” he said.

Stone waited for a name and got one.

“His name is Selwyn Owaki. Ring a bell?” Owaki was a big-time arms dealer who wielded a great deal of influence around the world, and who was in jail awaiting trial, largely because of Stone’s testimony at his bail hearing.

“I thought he was safely locked up in a federal detention center, awaiting trial,” Stone said.

“That was true, until this afternoon,” Lance replied, “when the judge got a letter from a United States senator, recommending that he be released on bail.”

Joe Box stared into his drink, expressionless.

Stone glanced at the door and saw Kelly Smith standing there, drawing a finger across her throat. He excused himself for a moment, made the call to Fred, then returned and sat down. “Now,” he said. “What have you wrought, Joe?”





14



BOX DIDN’T LOOK UP from his drink. “I did a favor for a friend,” he said.