Turbulence (Stone Barrington #46)(27)

The two of them entered the restaurant’s foyer and gave their coats to an attendant. Stone got his first look at Kelly’s new dress of green and gold. “Wow,” he said. “And I thought Harvey Nichols was a conservative store.”

“Don’t you believe it,” Kelly replied, twirling for him. “It was Princess Di’s favorite.”

They passed through an archway—Stone didn’t hear any alarms, which was good—and were led through the small restaurant to a slightly elevated table set for six, where Selwyn Owaki was already seated in what might be described as the gunfighter’s seat, his back to the corner with a clear view of the room, a beautiful woman at his side. Senator Joseph Box was also at the table with a comparably lovely girl considerably younger than himself.

Box stood to welcome them. “Good evening, Stone, Kelly,” he said. “May I present Carolyn Gooding-May? Stone Barrington and Kelly Smith. You know Mr. Owaki, of course.”

Owaki half rose. “Of course. Mr. Barrington, Ms. Smith, whom I do not know. My friend is Chaka Kerwin,” he said, indicating his companion, an exotic creature.

“Good evening,” Stone said, and they sat.

The sommelier appeared at Stone’s elbow with an open bottle of Krug. “Champagne, sir, or would you like something else?”

They both accepted champagne, which was chilled, but not too cold.

Settled in his armchair, Stone waited for someone to speak. No one did for a full minute.

Finally, Joe Box broke the silence. “Lovely day, wasn’t it?”

“If one was suitably clad,” Owaki replied drily.

Stone still said nothing. Being in Owaki’s presence made him extremely uncomfortable. If the pistol had been delivered already, he would have been tempted to use it without further ado. Still, he had to stick to the plan.

“I hope you were suitably clad, Mr. Barrington,” Owaki said.

“I avoided the necessity,” Stone said, “by simply not going out.”

“Ho, ho,” Owaki replied, and Box made a snorting sound.

A few minutes of halting conversation about nothing followed. Finally, Stone couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m surprised to see you here, Mr. Owaki,” he said. “I had thought you had been detained elsewhere.”

Owaki stared at him stonily. “One has good representation,” he said.

“Thank you, Selwyn,” Box replied. “I appreciate that.”

They were served plates of fresh, pan-seared foie gras, and Stone was grateful for the diversion.

As their plates were taken away, Chaka Kerwin rose from her chair and said, “Please excuse me.” She walked off toward a hallway at the rear of the restaurant where, presumably, the ladies’ room was located.

Kelly stood. “I think I’ll join Ms. Kerwin,” she said, heading after the woman.

Stone looked above Owaki’s head and found a mirror that gave a view of the room behind him. A group of waiters was approaching with a birthday cake ablaze with candles.





21



IT WASN’T SUPPOSED to happen this way. Where was the envelope on a silver tray, to be exchanged for another? Where was Kelly? Stone dabbed at his forehead with his napkin and searched the mirror for a familiar face or a signal from just about anybody. The waiters began to sing, “Happy Birthday,” possibly Stone’s least favorite composition.

Everyone at the table turned and stared at the procession, which had stopped at the empty chair where Kelly had previously sat. The waiters finished singing, and a smattering of applause broke out among the other diners. Stone wondered for a moment why anyone would wish to participate in someone else’s aging problems.

The headwaiter appeared and addressed his minions. “Take it away and slice it,” he said. Then, to Stone’s consternation, he set a beautifully wrapped gift on the table next to him. “From all your friends, Mr. Barrington,” he said.

Stone stared at the package as if it were a deadly poisonous reptile.

“Aren’t you going to open it, Stone?” Box’s date asked, the first time she had spoken.

Stone was trying to think of a reason not to open it, and failing. “Of course,” he muttered. He took hold of the package and, to his surprise, the wrappings came away in his hand.

“Oh, a book!” Carolyn said. “What is it, Stone?”

Stone picked it up and displayed the title to the table.

“Shaw,” Owaki said. “I despise Shaw.”

Stone turned the book around, set it on the table and began leafing through the pages. The compartment that held the weapon was now only two or three pages away.

Then from somewhere behind Stone, the sound of gunfire and breaking glass was heard. A few feet away, a crystal pitcher of ice water, which he could see in the corner of his eye, shattered. Stone turned his head to look at it, and when he turned back, Owaki had vanished. Stone closed the book and looked around, but found him nowhere. Across the room, Kelly was striding toward him, her handbag in her hand.

Then there was a strong hand at Stone’s elbow, and he was being guided to his feet. “Your car is waiting, Mr. Barrington,” the man said as Stone found himself propelled toward the front door.

Kelly joined him on his other side and slipped her arm into his. “Seems a good time to leave, doesn’t it?” she said.