Turbulence (Stone Barrington #46)(34)

“A single, unmarked door,” Stone said. “I have a key. We’re a hundred meters away.”

“Got it,” Kelly replied. “Stop, please,” she said to the driver.

Stone had a note ready and gave it to the driver with instructions to keep the change.

“M’sieur,” the driver said, “a man said you might leave the restaurant. He gave me fifty euros to telephone him and tell him where you go.”

Stone held up a hundred euro note. “Call him,” he said.

The man consulted a card and rang the number. The driver spoke to him, giving an address on the Champs-élysées, then hung up. Stone gave him the hundred. “Merci,” Stone said, “au revoir.” He joined Kelly at the door, told her what the driver had said and let them into the mews with his key. Shortly, they were inside the house.

Kelly took a small, but very bright flashlight from her purse, examined the front door lock and looked around the living room for signs of tampering. Then she led him upstairs and did the same in the bedroom.

“I think we’re okay,” she said. “We’ve been made, but the thing with the cabdriver may have thrown him off.”

“Even if they know we’re in Paris,” Stone said, “they won’t know that we traveled to Zurich.”

“I expect they might,” Kelly replied.

“Did you spot a tail on our trip?”

“No, but Peter’s report on his conversation with the Cyprus banker makes me think they may have put us in Zurich.”

“I’m not sure we were at the bank long enough for them to get a tail on us as we left the building,” Kelly said, “but if they did, they might have followed us to the autoroute and stayed with us long enough to suspect that Paris was our destination. I think we should drive back to London very early tomorrow.”

Stone got out his throwaway phone and googled the Chunnel schedule. “First Chunnel train departs at six AM,” he said.

“How sleepy are you?”

“Not very.”

“I suggest we drive to Lille now, stay at a hotel and be the first car in line tomorrow morning,” Kelly said. “There’s an Agency safe house in Lille, but if we stay there they’ll know.”

“Pack your bag, then,” Stone said.

Stone was sleepier than he had thought, having driven from Zurich that morning, so Kelly drove and impressed him with the skill and economy of her driving.

They got some sleep in Lille and were in line for the Chunnel train before dawn. As they left the Chunnel at Folkestone they burst into bright sunshine, which made the trip to London a pleasure. Once in Stone’s neighborhood, Kelly made a couple of tours of the approaches to the house, then they drove down the mews, used his remote to open the garage, and soon they were in bed and asleep.



* * *



—

    WHEN THEY AWOKE STONE turned on his iPhone to broadcast his whereabouts to anyone who might be interested. They were having lunch in the little breakfast room off the kitchen, overlooking the mews, when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Ah,” Lance said, “there you are.”

“I am,” Stone replied.

“How was the West Country?”

“We changed our minds at the last minute and went to Paris, instead—made use of your old house and had a lovely time.”

“Mmm.” Lance sounded almost disappointed. “Did anyone take an interest in your presence there?”

“Funny you should mention that; a fellow named Beria, whom you might recall from New York, asked after us, but my housekeeper practically denied knowing me. Also, a man followed us to a neighborhood restaurant last night, so after dinner we drove directly to Lille, checked into a hotel, and caught the first Chunnel train this morning.”

“Ah, yes. Comrade Beria is based in the City of Light, now. Have a description of the other?”

“Fortyish, close-cropped hair, going gray, fit-looking, steel-rimmed glasses, gray tweed topcoat, short.”

“I’ll run him through the mill and see if we come up with something.”

“Lance, you haven’t mentioned the fruits of your search at Red Hill airfield. There was nothing in the papers.”

“Nothing to speak of,” Lance replied carefully.

“Then you and our big sister must be disappointed. Was it something I said or did?”

“No, you did as you were asked. Something went wrong, though. We’re back on it. I may drop in later and give you some details.”

“There’s nothing I’m dying to know,” Stone replied. “Don’t feel you have to explain.”

“Do you still have the gift we gave you? The Shaw volume?”

“I do.”

“You might keep it near; one never knows when one might like something to read.”

“I’m not that big a fan of Shaw,” Stone said.

“Up to you,” Lance replied. “I wouldn’t force Shaw on anybody. See you anon.”

They both hung up.

“That was Lance, I suppose,” Kelly said.

“Who else? You were right: they didn’t secure the hot object. Owaki must still be out there; Lance suggested I keep the firearm near.”