Late in the afternoon, Stone called Dr. Golding at Bellevue.
“Yes, Mr. Barrington?”
“Any change?”
“Nothing startling. She’s had a little eyelid flutter, and when that happened, a small increase in her pulse.”
“It sounds like she could be trying to wake up,” Stone said.
“You could interpret it that way, or a doctor—we have a lot of them around here—could justifiably say it was just low-level brain activity. That’s my bet.”
“What kind of odds do you give her?”
“One chance in fifty, and that’s optimistic.”
“What did her EEG say?”
“Low-level brain activity.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Her mother called. She’s planning a welcome-home party.”
“Well, she’s a mother, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. If I were in Vanessa’s shape, my mother would be force-feeding me chicken soup.”
“Thank you, Doctor; I hope for better news.”
“Me, too. Though I so look forward to being sued.”
“What for? She had already been through the worst before you got her. I’d take your case in a heartbeat—so to speak.”
“Thanks, I feel so much better now. Bye.” He hung up.
Joan buzzed him. “Dino on one.”
“What?” Stone said.
“You sound terrible; did she die again?”
“Not yet, but Bellevue isn’t optimistic.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier.”
“Why? How is that different from all the other times you’ve yelled at me?”
“I’ll buy dinner—P.J. Clarke’s, at seven. That’ll cheer you up.”
Stone was walking out of the house when his cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Bill Golding, at Bellevue; there’s news.”
“What news?”
“I’ve got to get out of here before the media starts breaking my office door down. Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’m on my way to P.J. Clarke’s now; meet me there.”
“Give me a few minutes. I’ve got to report this to the police.”
“You can take care of that at Clarke’s. I’m having dinner with the cop in charge.”
“See you in fifteen,” Golding said, then hung up.
Dino was already at the bar, as the bartender set down two drinks. Stone grabbed one and sniffed it. “This one’s yours,” he said, handing it to Dino and grabbing the other.
They both took a heavy swig.
Stone looked over his shoulder to see Golding entering the place. They shook hands, and Stone introduced him to Dino. The headwaiter was beckoning to them.
“What are you having?” Stone asked.
“A double Talisker, rocks.” The bartender overheard that and grabbed the bottle. “Send it to the table,” Stone said, then led Golding and Dino to the back room. “Another chair,” he said to the headwaiter.
Stone waited until everybody was seated and Golding’s drink had been delivered and he had had a sip. “What’s going on, Bill?”
“Is this guy your cop?”
“This is Dino Bacchetti.
“He’s the cop, isn’t he? You mentioned that he was present for the cockup.”
“I was an innocent bystander,” Dino said. “I never took her pulse.” He jerked a thumb at Stone. “He did, though.”
“Do you have any medical training, Stone? Were you qualified to pronounce her?”
“I was a homicide detective for many years, mostly with Dino for a partner. After a few dozen corpses, I caught on to the symptoms of death. Now, what’s happened?”
“Her tox screen came back,” Golding said. “She was poisoned.”
“With what?”
“Have you been reading the papers about the death of the two former KGB agents in Britain, who were murdered by their former schoolmates?”
“I have.”
“We’ve been on the phone for the past two hours talking to the people who dealt with that, and we’re pretty sure it’s the same drug. Knowing what it is gives her a better chance of recovery.”
“Have you told her mother?”
Golding shook his head. “I couldn’t, until I reported it to the police.”
“Consider it reported,” Dino said. “You’d better call her, before she hears about it on TV.”
“Excuse me a moment,” Golding said. He left the table, then came back for his drink. “I’m going to need this. Order me a steak, rare, and another drink.” He left the room.
Dino got out his phone and pressed a button. “Find Johnny Goode,” he said, then hung up.
“Who’s he?” Stone asked.
“He’s kind of our specialist detective in poisonings,” Dino replied.
“I didn’t know you had a specialist in poisonings.”
“We don’t, that’s why I said ‘kind of.’” Dino’s phone rang, and he picked it up. “Johnny B.,” he said. “I’ve got something for you. You know the people in England the KGB poisoned? There have been three or four. Right. We’ve got a lady at Bellevue, name of Vanessa Baker. We think she took whatever they took. I want you to call MI-5 and find out everything you don’t already know about those poisons, particularly how long they take to take effect. Yeah, I know it’s the middle of the night there. Wait until they’re up, then call me back when you’re our resident genius. You’ll be the lead detective on the case.” Dino hung up. “Johnny B. Goode is on it.”
“That’s really his name?”
“Not the ‘B.’ part, but everybody calls him that, anyway.”
“Of course they do.”
“Or they wouldn’t be cops,” Dino said.
“This is going to be a tough case,” Stone said.
“I think it’ll be a lot easier if Vanessa starts walking and talking,” Dino replied.
“Out of the four cases in England, so far,” Stone said, “only one of them is walking and talking.”
“I’ve had worse odds,” Dino said.
“Good for you.”
Bill Golding arrived back at the table with an empty glass in his hand. “I need this one,” he said, grabbing the fresh one.