“How fortunate for him,” Hamish said. “Do you fly?”
“A Piper Malibu,” Holly replied. “No jet time, as yet.”
“Lovely airplane. Of course, there will be the usual attendant expenses: airport handling, hotels, etcetera.”
“Within reason,” Holly said, imagining Hamish in a huge suite in a fabulous hotel.
“Always,” Hamish replied. “Would you care to come with me? It should be an enlightening and pleasant trip.”
Holly thought that traveling t
o exotic places in a jet with Hamish McCallister at the controls would not be unpleasant. “I’m required elsewhere,” she said.
“Perhaps another time,” Hamish said, locking his eyes on hers.
Holly felt a blush coming on and coughed into her napkin. “There’s one other thing to look for: any mention of the word ‘Nod.’”
Hamish frowned. “In what context?”
“Any context you might come across. It appears to be the code name of an operative. It was sent in an e-mail from California to a suspected al Qaeda website that is being watched.”
“Was the message translated?”
“It read, in its entirety, ‘All is well. I am fine. Nod.’”
“I see. Sounds like someone has accomplished some task.”
“That’s how it seems to us, too. We need to know more.”
Hamish handed her a card. “These are all my contact numbers and e-mail addresses, should you ever need to reach me.”
“Thank you.”
Hamish glanced at his watch. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some flight planning and other preparations to make, so that I can get an early start tomorrow.” He tossed off the remainder of his wine. “Would you mind getting the bill? It should be easier for you to reclaim expenses than I.”
“Not at all.”
Hamish stood and offered his hand. “A great pleasure. Must run. Will you be in London when I get back?”
“Maybe, I’m not sure. In any event, you know how to reach me.”
“Of course. Must run.” And he did.
18
Stone cooked dinner for himself and Marla Rocker, whom he had been seeing for many weeks. After dinner, they repaired to his bed and did what they usually did after dinner.
When they were finished, Marla said, “I’m sorry I can’t come to California with you for the hotel opening, but I’m beginning to get very busy with Peter’s play.”
“I’m sorry, too, though I understand your reasons.”
“In fact, when you get back, it’s going to be difficult for me to see much of you.”
That set off a little ping in Stone’s frontal lobe; he read it as the first evidence of a dump to come. “Oh?”
“I have a musical that will fall hot on the heels of Peter’s play, and an actor I’ve been close to will be starring.”
So an old boyfriend was back in the picture. “I think I can see where this is headed,” Stone said.