“And how would that be accomplished?” Stone asked.
“I had at first thought that a word in the shell-like ear of a well-placed French journalist might do, but the libel laws in Europe are so much more difficult to deal with than back home, and of course, there would be the fear of personal retaliation from Jacques, who is fully capable of that.”
“So?”
“I think the answer might lie with the peculiar gifts of one Howard Axelrod.”
Stone made a groaning noise.
“There, there, Stone,” Lance said, reaching over and patting his hand, “I know your experience with Mr. Axelrod—that is not his real name, of course—has not been favorable, but you are, unfortunately, living evidence of the power the man wields. A couple of days ago you were a semi-anonymous New York lawyer. Now half the world believes you to be the sire of the child now carried by the putative Next President of the United States. Need I say more?”
“You need not,” Stone admitted.
Holly leaned in. “What is Howard Axelrod’s real name, Lance?”
“Now, now, Holly, if that were revealed, then I would not have the leverage with Mr. Axelrod that I need to ensure his cooperation in this noble effort.”
“You have a point,” Holly admitted. “But later, I’m going to make you tell me.”
“Certainly exposing Howard Axelrod for who he is would be great fun,” Lance said, “but not until I have persuaded him to expose Jacques Chance for who he is. Which brings me to a point: Stone, between the time the first story about Jacques begins to circulate, and the time at which the facts have made him harmless to you, there lies a period of as yet undetermined length when Jacques will be made more dangerous than ever to your continued existence. There will come a moment, though, when it will be propitious for you to flee Paris and Europe. I will get word to you when that moment arrives. In the meantime, however, do not travel except in the
coach and six provided for you, and make arrangements for an instantaneous departure when the word comes.”
“You bet your ass,” Stone said with conviction.
“One thing, Lance,” Holly said.
“Yes, Holly?”
“Do not spring Stone from Paris until
after
the grand opening of l’Arrington.”
“Why not?”
“Because Stone is taking me, and I have spent a month’s salary on a gown for the occasion. If Stone vanishes, then I will
get
you.”
Lance laughed uproariously. “And that would be a fate worse than Stone’s at the hands of Jacques Chance! All right, Holly, I’ll see that you get to wear your gown.”
33
S
tone got into bed, exhausted, longing for sleep.
Holly, on the other hand, was brightly awake, sitting up in bed with a book on her lap. She was not reading it. “Stone!” she exploded.
“Mmmf? What is it?”
“Who do you think Howard Axelrod really is?”
Stone turned over, presenting his back to her. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“Surely you must be curious. He’s supposed to be a well-known journalist.”
“I’m not curious, I’m tired.” Stone pulled the covers half over his head.
“Well, it’s somebody with a bit of wit, anyway. He always makes me laugh. Somehow, I think he’d like me, too.”
“I hope the two of you will be very happy.” Stone turned onto his back. Then he lifted his head. “Wait a minute,” he said, “you’re talking about the son of a bitch who has besmirched my good name and called Kate’s character into question?”
“Your name wasn’t all that good before, not with regard to women, anyway, and Kate’s character is beyond reproach. This will pass in a day or two, wait and see.”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“I think Howard Axelrod is in Paris,” Holly said.
That got Stone’s attention. “Why do you think that?”
“Well, Lance is awfully sure of his ability to manipulate Axelrod, and that would be easier to do if they’re both in the same city.”
“Well, if you find out who and where he is, let me know—I’d like to take a swing at the bastard, and no judge would punish me for it.”
“The gathering of top policemen has drawn top journalists from everywhere to Paris. I’ll bet Howard is among them.”
“I haven’t heard anything about that.”
“It was in this morning’s
International New York Times.
”
“I didn’t see it.”
“Would you really take a swing at him?”
“You bet your sweet ass I would.” Stone was wide awake now.
“Do you really think Mirabelle Chance has been sleeping with her brother all these years?”
“I confess, that came as something of a shock to me when Lance brought it up. I think it’s a horribly damaging rumor, and I don’t believe for a moment that she has that in her character.”
“I rather liked her this evening. She seemed like a no-bullshit sort of person, very forthright. What is she like in bed? Is she enthusiastic, or does she just lie back and think of France?”
“Holly, shut up and go to sleep.”
“I mean, I’m the only woman I know anything about in bed—other women are a mystery to me.”
“They’re a mystery to me, too,” Stone said. “I mean, you’re in bed with me right now, and you’re talking about how other women perform sex. That is a
complete
mystery to me.”
“Don’t you ever wonder how other men perform in bed?”
“I have never wondered for a moment, and I don’t care.”
“You have no sexual curiosity, Stone.”
“Not about that, I don’t. You leave women to me, and I’ll leave other men to you.”
“Don’t you care if I fuck other men?”
“It’s none of my business, is it? Have I ever said a word to you on that subject?”
“I suppose not. Would you like to hear about some of them?”
“I would not!”
“Well, there was this one guy—I think you might know him—”
“Stop it! Not another word!”
“I wonder what Howard Axelrod is like in the sack.”
“Incapable, I should think, given his deep interest in other people’s sex lives.”
“Stone, everybody is interested in other people’s sex lives.”
“Not I.”
“Why do you think people go to hot movies and read hot novels? They’re dying to know how other people do it, that’s why.”
“I don’t read hot novels, and I hardly ever go to the movies, for any reason. I see movies on television, old and new, and TV, the networks, at least, haven’t gotten around to explicit sex, yet.”
“It’s only a matter of time. Cable and satellite are already way ahead of the networks in that regard. I’ll bet l’Arrington has half a dozen X-rated channels on its television system right now. Where’s the remote control?” She rummaged around under the covers until she came to Stone. She laid a hand on his crotch. “Are you still sleepy?” she breathed into his ear.
“Not very,” he replied.
“Oh, good. Let’s make our own X-rated movie.” She brought him erect.
He rolled over on top of her. “No pictures, please.”
“Just memories,” she said, guiding him in.
34
A
t ten
A.M.
the phone at Stone’s bedside rang; Stone turned over and answered before it occurred to him that he had ordered all his calls screened. “Hello?”
“Sleeping in?” Lance asked.
“I was.”
“Put Holly on the extension. I need to speak with you both.”
“Hang on.” Stone poked Holly’s sleeping ass with a finger, then, getting no response, poked it harder.
“What?” she said into her pillow.
“It’s Lance. He wants to speak to both of us.”
Holly rolled over and picked up the phone on her side. “What, Lance?”
“Now don’t be grumpy, this is an important call.”
“I can’t wait to hear it,” she said.
“There is an exciting event this evening—a dinner for a couple dozen of America’s top journalists, and you and Stone are invited, if you don’t have other plans. If you do have other plans, kindly rearrange them.”
“We don’t have plans, do we, Stone?”
Stone shook his head.
“We’re available. Now can we go back to sleep?”
“Of course, my dear. Seven-thirty for eight at the United States ambassador’s residence. See you then!” Lance hung up.
“Did he say the ambassador’s residence?” Stone asked.
“I believe he did.”
“Been there, done that—don’t want to do it again.”
“I’m afraid we’ve already accepted, and it does sound exciting. I never get to meet journalists in my job. I wonder why Lance wants me there?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll go only if you stand between me and the ambassador at all times.”
“Didn’t you enjoy being felt up by the lady last time?”
“No, I did not. I want your solemn word.”
“Oh, all right, you have it. It’s a good thing you’re not a woman, you know.”
“Why is that?”
“Because women get groped all the time.”
“They do? I wasn’t aware of that.”
“That’s because you’re doing the groping. If you were the gropee, you’d be shocked.”
“I don’t grope unless invited.”
“You mean women walk up to you at dinner parties and say, ‘Grope me’?”
“Not exactly—it’s more subtle than that.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Well, do you remember the party at Dino’s apartment, when you backed into me and wiggled your ass against me? Like that.”
“Oh, my goodness, I did do that, didn’t I?”
“Yes, and it was an invitation to be groped.”
“And it worked, too!” She put her hand under the covers and drew her nails across his bare ass. “Consider that an invitation,” she said. “R.S.V.P.?”
—
STONE SAW TO IT
that they arrived at the ambassador’s residence just a little late; he wanted a lot of people there when the ambassador greeted them, and his plan worked.
“Stone! Holly!” the ambassador crowed. “How nice to see you again.”
Stone reached around Holly and shook her hand. “Ambassador, you look lovely this evening.” She was wearing a clinging red dress that showed off her well-toned body.
“Why, thank you!”
Lance materialized beside her, and before Stone could warn him he saw the ambassador’s hand head for its target. Lance started only a bit. “Come,” he said, “there are people to meet.”
He took Holly by the hand and led her away; Stone followed, firmly attached to her other hand.
In short order, they were introduced to Walter Grimes, a columnist for the
Washington Post
;
Charles Danforth,
an editor of the
Boston Globe
; Helen Frank, the
NBC Nightly News
anchorwoman; Carla Fontana, the Washington bureau chief for the
New York Times
; Paul Roberts, the editor of the
International New York Times
;
Tim Bartlett, the Paris correspondent for the Associated Press; and Rod Halliburton, the White House correspondent for Politico.
Holly was dazzled. “It’s so interesting to put faces to all these names,” she said. Lance towed them around the room, adding another dozen names and faces to the introductions. He seemed to be an old friend of each of them.
Helen Frank sidled up to Stone at the first opportunity. “Are you
the
Stone Barrington?” she asked.
“The
only
one, as far as I know,” Stone replied cordially.
“The, ah,
friend
of Katharine Lee?”
“The just good friend of same. I’ve already released a statement to that effect, and I have nothing to add.”
“How disappointing, I was hoping for a scoop,” she said, feigning petulance.
“Nothing exists to be scooped, I’m afraid.”
“Tell me,” she said, leaning in close. “Has the ambassador made a move on your crotch this evening? I’ve heard rumors.”
“Not this evening,” Stone said. “Holly, here, is running interference.”
“And what a lovely interference she is,” the woman said, drifting away.
Holly pulled Lance a step away from the others. “Is he here?”
“Is who here?” Lance asked innocently.
“Howard Axelrod.”
“Oh, yes, he is present, and we’ve already had our little chat.”
“Introduce me.”
“You may have already met him,” Lance said, then the ambassador pulled him away to meet someone else.
Shortly, they were called to dinner in a room full of tables of six, and Holly spent the rest of the evening speculating on which of the guests was the dreaded Howard Axelrod.
As the party broke up, Stone encountered Lance, lingering with a group. “May we offer you a lift?” he asked.
“Thank you, no,” Lance replied. “I’m staying for a little while to have a brandy with the ambassador.”
“Watch yourself,” Stone said.
“I intend to,” Lance said with his little smile.
“What was that brief conversation with Lance about?” Holly asked, when they were safely in the van.
“I’m not sure,” Stone replied, “but Lance is either very innocent or very knowing—I’m not sure which.”
“Probably both,” Holly said.
35
T
he van hummed along for a while then made a turn, heading for a bridge over the Seine. “Oh, God,” Stone said, rubbing his face vigorously.
“What’s wrong?” Holly asked.
“I’m having a very intense
déjà vu
,” he said.
“What’s it about?”
“I’m driving along like this, Lance and Rick and me, and as we enter this intersection ahead, we’re broadsided by a concrete-mixer truck. That actually happened last year, and I’m reliving it.”
“Do you survive?” Holly said.
“Of course, I’m here, right?”
“It could never happen twice,” she said.
They stopped for a traffic light. Stone was perspiring and wiping his face with a handkerchief.
“You don’t look well,” Holly said.
“I’ll be all right when we’re across the bridge.”