“So you can fly?”
“So I’ll stop thinking like this. You’re making me crazy.”
She leered at him. “It’s about time.”
Later, in bed, they forgot about the money.
18
STONE WAS AT his desk the following morning when Joan buzzed him.
“Yes?”
“Lance Cabot is here to see you.”
“Send him in.”
Lance came into Stone’s office carrying an envelope. “Good morning,” he said, his usual affable self.
“Good morning, Lance. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to talk to you about your contract.”
“All right.”
“Holly’s is fine. I’ve sent it on to Langley, where it will be countersigned, dated, and a copy returned to her. Your contract, however, has a problem: I can’t include words like ‘his usual hourly or daily rate.’ We must be specific.”
“All right, five hundred dollars an hour.”
“I think it would be to your advantage if we kept it at a daily rate, like Holly’s contract.”
“All right, four thousand dollars a day.”
“I was thinking two thousand.”
“Thirty-five hundred.”
“Three.”
“Done.”
Lance removed the contract from the envelope. “Do you think your secretary could retype this page?”
“Of course.” He buzzed for Joan.
Lance made the changes and handed the page to Joan, who disappeared.
“So, we have a deal?” Lance said.
“Yes, we do.”
“Good. I’d like you to go to London today.”
Stone managed not to look amazed. “Today?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”