Turbulence (Stone Barrington #46)(44)

“Did you find the duke and duchess good company?” Bill asked as they enjoyed their smoked salmon sandwiches.

“I did,” Stone said. “The duke gave me a tour of the lower levels of the house, where—” He was interrupted by a huge explosion, and they looked up to see Stone’s Bentley engulfed in flames. Bits of the car drifted down around them, and they scrambled away from their table, looking for shelter under the trees.

“I’d say it was a very good idea to stop for lunch,” Bill said, when everything had settled.

Kelly had her cell phone out. “We’ve got a signal,” she said, dialing a number. The Range Rover’s driver was on his phone, too.





35



AN HOUR LATER, Stone sat a picnic table facing two Special Branch detectives, who had been summoned by the local constabulary.

“Now then, Mr. Barrington,” the elder of the two said. “Do you have any enemies who might seek your destruction?”

“I don’t believe so,” Stone replied carefully. He did not think it a good idea to drag the duke and his warning into this.

“Well, sir,” the detective said, “it’s hardly an accident, is it?”

“I suppose not.”

“And you say the car was locked in a barn on the Kensington estate for the entire weekend?”

“That’s what I was told,” Stone said. “There was no cell service on the estate, and I asked for my car, so that I could drive into the village to make a call, but they said it was buried in a barn, and there was no one available to move all the vehicles.”

“May I ask, sir, what is your work?”

“I’m a lawyer, in New York. The event we attended was for a group of barristers, and my managing partner and I were invited. You met Mr. Eggers, over there.” He nodded.

“I did, sir, and Mr. Eggers seems to be free of enemies, as well. I don’t suppose the ladies . . .”

Stone shook his head. “I think it must be a case of mistaken automotive identity.”

“Were there other Bentleys in the barn, as well?”

“I expect so, I saw several on arrival.”

“‘Mistaken automotive identity,’” the detective muttered. “I don’t think we have a box to check for that one on our computer form.”

“I suppose not,” Stone said. “I don’t think my insurer will have one, either.” He heard a car door slam above them and looked up to see Lance hovering near the smoking ruin of the Bentley. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Inspector?” he asked the policeman.

The man closed his notebook. “I don’t believe so. I have your number, and I’ll call if I think of anything.”

“Good day, then,” Stone said rising, and the two detectives made an exit. Lance approached.

“Have you had lunch?” Lance asked.

“Thank you, yes. We were eating sandwiches when the bomb went off.”

“Bomb? You think it was a bomb?”

“All right, when the explosive device detonated.”

“I had a word with their technician,” Lance said. “He says it was a plastic explosive detonated by a timer, no cell phone involved.”

“That wouldn’t have worked, since there’s no cell phone service at Kensington House; we tried to call you yesterday.”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “Something to report?”

“Perhaps we could go over that on the drive back,” Stone said. “Is the Range Rover drivable?”

“It needs a new windscreen and some attention to the front end, but between that and my car, we can get everybody back to London.”

Stone’s and Kelly’s luggage was transferred to Lance’s vehicle, and the Eggerses left for the Connaught in the battered Range Rover. Stone wondered how the doorman would receive it.

Stone and Lance settled into the rear seat of a large Volvo sedan, while Kelly sat up front with the driver, and they set off for London.

“So, it was Owaki?” Lance asked.

“Who else? The duke told me to watch my back when I left the estate, and I guess I didn’t take him seriously enough.”

Lance now began an extensive debriefing on the events of their weekend, and only when he had extracted every bit of available information did he conclude. “You say you’re having lunch tomorrow with this barrister fellow?”

“John Pelton-Furnham,” Stone replied.

“Sir John Pelton-Furnham Q.C.,” Lance said. “Do you think he would mind if I joined you?”

“Probably not. I’ll ring him in the morning and ask.”

“Please do. I’d like a look at those plans. So Owaki sleeps in the king’s bed, does he?”

“So I am reliably informed.”

“I’d like to put an explosive device in that bed,” Lance said, half to himself.

“The duke and Dame Felicity are old friends,” Stone said. “Did I mention that?”

“You did not,” Lance said reprovingly.

“An oversight. I think that may have caused him to warm to me over dinner last night.”

“Good of him to give you the tour,” Lance said.

“Yes, it was. And now you know which bed to put the bomb under.”