9

The four of them, plus Bob, arrived in Santa Fe and piled into Gala’s Range Rover, which her housekeeper had left for her, driving away the Aston Martin.

They arrived at Gala’s house, and she installed the Bacchettis in the guesthouse, then headed toward the kitchen.

Stone was toting in their bags when he heard a crash, followed by a scream. He rushed into the kitchen, ready for a fight. Gala was cowering by the pantry door, and the place was a mess.

“It was a bear!” Gala shouted. “I saw him rush around the corner when I screamed.”

Dino ran into the kitchen, his gun drawn. “What is it?”

“A visit from Papa Bear,” Stone said. “He stayed for lunch.” He waved a hand.

“Jesus,” Dino said. “He wasn’t very neat, was he?”

“Can you take a look outside and see if he’s gone? You’re the one with the weapon.”

“Sure.” Dino trod carefully through the mess and had a look outside. “Gone,” he said, holstering his gun.

Stone hung up the phone. “I talked with Ed Eagle. He’s calling somebody from the state wildlife service, and he gave me the name of a commercial cleaning business.”

—

Finally, they were able to sit down for a drink, while the cleaners did their work. One of them came in, carrying a bucket. “Here’s the problem,” he said, holding up a broken bottle bearing a label. “A quart of honey.”

“I buy honey in little jars,” Gala said. “I like a spoonful in my tea, but I’ve never bought a quart.”

“It was smeared on your back door,” the cleaner said, “then the jar was broken outside. That brought the bear.”

Gala put her face in her hands. “It’s Boris,” she said.

—

Later, an official of the wildlife service arrived and took a report. Stone showed him the remains of the broken honey jar.

“That would do it,” he said. “She loves her honey.”

“She?”

“And two cubs,” the man said. “I found their tracks outside. We’re going to have to organize a hunt. She’s got a den somewhere up in the hills, and we’ll have to anesthetize her and the cubs and take them up into the Sangre de Cristo Mountains for resettlement.”

“She won’t come back?”

“There’s no telling,” the man said. “We do the best we can. She’ll remember where she found the honey, though.” He gave Stone his card and left.

“I didn’t hear you volunteering for the hunt,” Dino said.

“I’m a city boy. What do I know about bear hunting? I’d just be in the way.”

“Problem is, nobody’s hunting Boris,” Gala said.

“Once we get the house secured, you come back to New York with us,” Stone said. “You deserve a rest from that guy.”

“Invitation gratefully accepted,” she replied.

—

They spent the following day getting the kitchen door replaced and the alarm system repaired, then took off for New York.

At Stone’s house Gala seemed to relax for the first time since leaving L.A. Then she got a phone call; she listened for a moment, thanked the caller, and hung up in tears. “That was a friend of mine who’s a real estate agent in Santa Fe. She heard that Boris is house hunting.”

“In Santa Fe?”

“In Tesuque,” she replied. “He wants to move into my neighborhood.”

“I’ll call Ed Eagle and ask him to get a temporary restraining order against Boris,” Stone said.

“Will that work?”

“I’ll find out.” Stone called Ed and had a long conversation with him, then hung up. “Ed’s going to try for an order that will keep him out of a two-mile radius from your home. If he can get it, and he thinks he can, that will keep him out of Tesuque.”

“For now.”

“Now is what we have to deal with.”

“I can’t impose on your hospitality forever.”

“You’re not imposing.” Stone had a thought. “You expressed an interest in seeing my house in England. Still interested?”

“Oh, yes! Boris would never figure that out.”

“You can bring your computer and work there.”

“Perfect!”

“Let me make some calls and see if we can catch a ride on a bigger jet. It’s kind of a trek in mine—we’d have to spend a night in Newfoundland or Ireland to break up the trip.”

“However you want to do it is fine with me.”

—

It took two calls before he found that the Strategic Services jet was flying to Paris the following day and could drop them in the south of England. Gala was thrilled with the news.

Stone had another thought. “Gala, do you know what kind of cell phone Boris uses?”

“He always gets the latest iPhone.”

“Do you have the number?”

She recited it from memory.

Stone called his tech guy, Bob Cantor.

“Hello.”

“Bob, it’s Stone. You told me once that you had been working on some kind of tracer software for cell phones.”

“I did, and it’s up and running.”

Stone gave him Tirov’s number. “Can you arrange for me to get warnings if that phone is anywhere near me, like in England?”

“Sure. I’ll send the guy an irresistible e-mail, and if he opens it, it will plant the software on his phone. At what range do you want the warning to be effective?”

“Couple of hundred miles?”

“Consider it done.”

“Thanks, Bob.” He hung up.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“Bob will arrange for us to get a warning if Boris gets within two hundred miles of us.”

“How can he do that?”

“Don’t ask.”

“I won’t.”

“You might want to do a little shopping for England while you’re in New York. It’ll be pleasant this time of year, but it’s not L.A. or Santa Fe.”

“You mean I’ll need a raincoat?”

“That’s what I mean. A sweater or two, as well. The weather is, well, changeable.”

Gala grabbed her purse. “Bloomingdale’s, here I come.”

She kissed him goodbye and fled the house.

Stone thought he might take a few extra things, as well.