by Stuart Woods
“Dame Felicity must know you very well to know that you would want the house on sight.”
“Dame Felicity is director of the British Foreign Intelligence Service, known as MI-6. She tends to know just about everything there is to know about everything.”
“Nevertheless, it was kind of her to steer you to it.”
“Her action was not entirely out of kindness—there was an element of self-service involved.”
“How so?”
“She didn’t want the place to be snapped up by some nouveau-riche hedge fund manager. She and her neighbors wanted someone who was the ‘right sort of person’ to buy it, so she chose a nouveau-riche American lawyer.”
Meg laughed. “That means that she certainly did know you well.”
“We have been friends for many years,” Stone said.
“Why do I think that Dame Felicity is not a ‘lady of a certain age’ and is quite beautiful?”
“Because you are a perspicacious woman.”
Meg laughed. “Will I meet Dame Felicity?”
“The moment she hears we are here she will invite us to dinner—or more likely, invite herself here for dinner—so that she can get a good look at you.”
“And I at her.”
“I warn you, Felicity is something of a carnal omnivore, so don’t be surprised if you find her hand on your knee.”
Meg laughed again. “It’s been quite some time since another woman tried that—at Stanford, I think—and she didn’t get lucky.”
“Just giving you a heads-up,” Stone said.
His phone rang. “Yes? Thank you so much. Goodbye.” He hung up. “At some time during the night our guardians will be in place, so we may rest easily.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Meg said.
49
Stone showed Meg into the master suite and then, after she had oohed and aahed for a moment, into her dressing room and bath, where she repaired to unpack and undress. She was back sooner than he had expected, but he was glad to see her. He put aside his Times, and she shed her nightgown and dived into bed with him.
“Aren’t you exhausted?” he asked.
“No, but I plan to be in just a few minutes,” she replied, giving him a deep kiss and fondling him.
“By the way,” Stone said, “before I forget—you have filed all the patent application paperwork for your designs, haven’t you?”
“I expect so,” she said, running a tongue in and out of his ear. “I gave the lawyers all that a long time ago.”
“Remind me to remind you to check with them first thing tomorrow to see if everything is in order.”
“Remind me to remind you,” she said, and they gave themselves over to each other.
* * *
—
STONE WOKE to a peep of sunshine through the closed drapes and checked the clock. Ten AM. He had slept well, and Meg was still out. It was his turn to do the seduction, and he did so with relish.
* * *
—
BREAKFAST WAS served in bed, along with the papers, then the phone buzzed. “Yes?” Stone said into it.
“Good morning, Mr. Barrington. Major Bugg here.”
“Good morning, Major.”
“Have you, by chance, ordered a passel of security people to surround the house?”
“I have, last night. I take it they have arrived.”
“They have. Shall I house and feed them in the cottage, as before?” This was not the first time this had happened.
“Please do, and give them every cooperation.”
“Of course, sir.” The major rang off.
“Are we surrounded?” Meg asked.
“We are.”
“Will that prevent me from taking a walk around the grounds?”
“When I said last night that we would be prisoners in the house for a time, I meant exactly that. However, you may explore the interiors of the house, which will take you much of the day.”
“Oh, all right,” she said.
The phone rang. “Yes?” Stone said.
A young man’s voice said, “I have Dame Felicity Devonshire for you. Will you accept the call?”
“Certainly,” Stone said.
There was a click. “Stone, is that you?”
“It is. The word spreads quickly.”
“My spies are everywhere,” she said. “I thought we might have dinner tonight, if you and your lady friend are available.”
“How do you know that I am in the company of a lady?”
“Oh, really, Stone!”
“Come to us at six-thirty,” he said.
“That will work very nicely. I’m leaving the office a little early today. See you then.” She hung up.
“I think I can guess who that was,” Meg said.
“Good guess. She’ll arrive at six-thirty, dressed to kill. Never mind that it’s just the three of us.”
“I’ll do my best to rise to the occasion. Now,” she said, leaping from the bed, “I’m going to put on my country tweeds and explore the innards of the house.”
“How did you know to bring country tweeds?”
“A wild guess,” she replied, and disappeared into her dressing room.
Stone read the Times fairly thoroughly, then gave up immediately on the crossword. He had never been any good at British crosswords; they were all riddles.
* * *
—
MEG WAS BACK at noon, while Stone was still dressing. “Wasn’t I supposed to remind you of something?” she said.
“Yes, you were supposed to remind me to remind you to check on the status of your patent applications.”
She looked at her watch. “Too early in California. I’ll do it later.”
“Remind me to remind you.”
* * *
—
THEY LUNCHED in the small dining room, overlooking the rear gardens of the house.
“Lord,” Meg said, gazing at the riot of color. “What does it take to run a place like this?”
“About fifteen people,” Stone said, “and a bottomless bank account.”
“What do fifteen people do?”
“Well, there’s Major Bugg and his assistant, the cook and her assistant, four housemaids, a butler, and two of what used to be called ‘footmen’ but now prefer ‘assistant butler.’ On the outside a groom and his assistant, a gardener and his assistant, and six groundsmen, one of whom doubles as an aircraft handler and another as a dockmaster.”
“That presumes a dock.”
“Right over that way”—he pointed—“on the Beaulieu River.”
“That comes to twenty-one,” she said.
“Good God, as many as that?”
“You thought there were only fifteen.”
“I would rather go on thinking that,” Stone said. “Excuse me, I should check in with Joan.” He called the New York house.
“Good morning, the Barrington Practice.”
“Good morning. Is everything and everyone safe and sound?”
“Yes, but Bob is a little put out that you didn’t take him with you.”
“I didn’t know, on short notice, whether the legal requirements for his entering Britain had been accomplished. Will you check into that?”
“Certainly.”
“Anything at all odd going on?”
“Do you mean the two men lurking outside in the street and the phone calls from men who, when told you are unavailable, decline to identify themselves?”
“I believe I do.”
“Do you want me to shoot anybody?”
“Not until their hands are at your bodice. What you could do, though, is to tell Fred to take the car out once or twice a day, so they’ll think I’m in it. And tell him to watch his ass, in case they believe that too
strongly and take a shot at him.”
“I will do so.”
“Call me if there are developments.”
“Of course.” They both hung up.
“Is all well?” Meg asked.
“As well as can be expected,” Stone replied.
50
Stone and Meg had just finished lunch when the butler came into the room. “Excuse me, Mr. Barrington,” he said, “but one of the security detail would like to speak with you at the front door.”
“Please bring him in here,” Stone replied.
A man Stone recognized came into the room. “Good afternoon, Mr. Barrington.”
“It’s Carl Atkins, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. I have some rather unwelcome news for you, I’m afraid.”
“And what is that?”
“The gentleman you’re concerned about, Mr. Owaki?”
“Yes?”
“I’m very much afraid that he’s a guest next door.”
Stone turned to Meg. “Next door means a larger country house—much larger than this one—that the Arrington Group turned into a country hotel.”
“And it’s next door?”
“Yes.”
“In the circumstances,” Atkins said, “we feel strongly that you and Ms. Harmon should not appear outdoors on the front side of the house, as Mr. Owaki will certainly have his own security, and you might be spotted.”
“How about the back side of the house?” Stone asked.
“That should be quite safe.”
“Thank you, Carl, we’ll heed your warning.”
“Have a good afternoon, sir.” Atkins departed.
“I suppose I was wrong about Owaki being five miles away,” Stone said. “It’s more like a quarter of a mile.”
“Swell,” Meg said.
“Would you like a walk in the garden? That’s at the rear of the house.” He pointed.
“Very much,” she said.
They left the house through the rear entrance and walked into the garden, while Meg explained the species to Stone, who had no idea. Then they walked into the stable yard and had a look at the four horses there.
“May we ride?” Meg asked.
“Do you ride?”
“When I’m permitted to.”
“I’m afraid our only trail passes within a few yards of the house next door.”
“I should have known. In that case, I think I’ll spend the afternoon in your library with a good book.”
“What a good idea. Remember, drinks at six-thirty.”
“I’ll be there, suitably attired.”
Stone was in the library at six, dressed in a blue suit and a tie, remembering that Dame Felicity was often early. At six-twenty, the butler announced her, and as soon as the door closed behind her she enveloped Stone in a hug and allowed herself to be kissed on both cheeks.
“I won’t ask how you are,” Stone said, “because it’s perfectly obvious.”
“You, too, darling,” she said. She was dressed in a clinging cocktail dress of green, which set off her red hair.
“What would you like to drink?”
“A martini, please.”
Stone went to the paneled bar and mixed the drink, then poured himself a bourbon. They settled into chairs beside the fireplace.
“I noted the presence of security at the dock and at the house,” Felicity said. “May I know why?”
“You may,” Stone said. He took five minutes to apprise her of the situation.
“Owaki is a nasty piece of work,” Felicity said, “in spite of his oleaginous charm. I knew he was in the country, of course, and now I know why.”
“I don’t think he came in search of us.”
“No, it’s his factory, and now I know why he bought it.”
“I don’t suppose you could find an excuse to have him thrown out of the country,” Stone said.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she replied.
Meg was ushered in by the butler, and Stone introduced her to Felicity, who looked her up and down appraisingly. She was wearing a red sheath dress, and Felicity obviously approved. He made Meg a martini and Felicity a second one, then they gathered at the fireplace.
“I understand you are in the intelligence trade,” Meg said to her.
“I’m very much afraid that I can neither affirm nor deny that,” Felicity replied. “I understand that you are receiving the attention of nefarious characters.”
“I can affirm that,” Meg replied. “Can you have people shot?”
“Not in my own neighborhood, I fear,” Felicity replied. “I’m just across the river, you know.”
“I have heard,” Meg replied.
“I don’t know why Stone couldn’t handle something like that himself,” Felicity said. “There’s a very good deer rifle from Holland & Holland right over there in his gun cabinet.” She nodded toward it.
“Not in my own neighborhood,” Stone said.
“Perhaps I should do it myself,” Meg said. “I’m a very good shot.”
“I would certainly have no objection,” Felicity said, “but I can’t speak for Her Majesty’s Government, who might take exception—in the nicest possible way, of course.”
“Of course,” Stone said.
“I could, perhaps, put in a word with the home secretary before your sentencing, though.”
“How kind of you,” Meg replied, and they all laughed.
* * *
—
DINNER WAS a country pâté and pheasant from the estate, accompanied by a bottle of outstanding old claret from Windward Hall’s cellar, followed by Stilton and a vintage port.
Stone was pleased to see that the two women got on famously, and Felicity had been a perfect lady.
“Now then,” Felicity said over her second glass of port, “we must do something about your situation. I think it’s appalling that you can’t even take a walk or go for a gallop.”
“What can be done?” Stone asked.
“The insufferable Mr. Owaki believes himself to be untouchable,” she said, “and I always enjoy upsetting the carts of the insufferable. Perhaps his new factory hasn’t been subjected to the proper level of inspection by various departments of the county council.”
“Since Owaki is a new employer in the district,” Stone said, “I doubt if they would wish to make him uncomfortable.”
“Still, he isn’t actually building anything yet, is he?”
“The county newspaper says he is continuing to build the sports cars for which his factory is famous.”
“And losing ten thousand pounds on every one,” Felicity replied. “That’s why he was able to buy the concern cheaply. I think you’re already doing the thing that will hurt him most—depriving him of the designs of what he would really like to build.”
“You know, my board has discussed the possibility of manufacturing on this side of the pond,” Meg said.
Stone smiled. “Perhaps they would vote to make Mr. Owaki an insultingly low offer for the place.”
“That would be very satisfying,” Meg said.
Felicity spoke up. “I could put you in touch with a British intermediary who would keep the source of the offer a dark secret.”
“I’ll make some calls tomorrow,” Meg said.
51
Stone was taking a nap the following afternoon, paying the price for the good bourbon, claret, and port he had ingested the previous evening, when Meg came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Stone, wake up,” she said.
“Mmmmf?” he replied.
“Open your eyes and ears. I have important news.”
Stone opened one eye. “How much port did I drink last night?”
“Three glasses, just like Felicity and I. Now listen to me careful
ly.”
“I’m listening carefully,” Stone said, opening the other eye.
“I’ve just spoken with my attorneys in San Francisco, and they told me that they filed for all our patents on the date I asked them to. However, upon checking, they find that they have no acknowledgment of that fact from the U.S. Patent Office.”
“That’s all right, they will have confirmation of delivery from whatever shipping service they used.”
“I’m afraid not,” she said. “They sent it to the post office, along with all their other outgoing mail that day—their mailroom has a record of it going out—but it was sent by ordinary mail, not registered mail, so there is no record of a notice of receipt from the patent office, who say that they have no record of it being filed.”
Stone sat up in bed. “Your attorneys should have received a notice that would allow you to use the designation ‘Patent Applied For.’”
“I’m afraid they didn’t.”
“Then your attorneys need to begin an immediate investigation of what happened to the package, questioning every employee who could have handled it.”
“They are doing that now. My question to you is, if they can’t find a notice of receipt, what is my position?”
“Your position, in those circumstances, would be a person or a corporation who has not applied for a patent.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that. How can I fix this?”
“First of all, it’s necessary that you officially become my client.”
“Stone, will you please represent me as my attorney in all matters relating to all my company’s products?”
“Yes. Now I need Joan to e-mail us the correct paperwork, but I don’t want to wait until we receive it to start on this. May I proceed?”