Todd Bacon, still on the West Coast, opened the e-mail on rising and read it. “Shit!” he shouted, waking up the man in the other bed.
“What?” the man yelled back.
“It’s over, goddammit. They’ve pulled the plug. Call everybody now and tell them we’re due at Langley Friday A.M., first thing.”
“Worst fears realized,” the man said.
“Maybe not,” Todd said. “I’m not dead yet.”
ON THE APPOINTED DAY, Teddy drove to a little bookstore in D.C. that stocked the New York, Washington, and National editions of the Times, bought a paper, then went back to his car and opened the Arts section. His tight face spread into a grin. The ad was there.
He drove slowly home and found Lauren making breakfast. “I think it may be over,” he said.
“Your letter worked?” she asked, incredulous.
Teddy handed her the newspaper, folded back to the ad.
“I don’t believe it,” she said. “Neither do I,” he replied, “at least not yet. We’ll give it a while, and if we have no further problems, we’ll pick us a spot and go live happily ever after.”
“And if we have further problems?”
Teddy sighed. “We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”
STONE WAS STILL WORKING on the Times crossword when the phone rang. “Hello?”
“Mr. Barrington?” A woman’s voice, silken.
“Yes?”
“This is Milly Hart.”
“Good morning, Ms. Hart,” he said.
“I would be pleased if you would come to lunch today at my apartment, if you’re available.”
“May I bring my colleague?”
“I would prefer to see you alone.”
“I’m available.”
“One o’clock, then?”
“One o’clock.” Stone hung up, got out of bed, and went into the living room, where Dino was reading the Wall Street Journal. Dino had become interested in financial matters after the multimillion-dollar divorce settlement arranged by his former father-in-law, Eduardo Bianchi.
“Who was on the phone?” Dino asked.
“Milly Hart.”
Dino looked surprised. “Yeah? That sounds interesting.”
“That remains to be seen,” Stone replied. “She invited me to lunch.”
“Just you?”
“I asked if I could bring you—she said no.”
Dino smiled. “She’s going to jump your bones.”