39

They made love for a while, then fell asleep in each other’s arms. Stone was awakened by a noise, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He moved over in bed and discovered that his arm had grown numb from being under Gala’s neck. He got up and went to the bathroom, massaging the arm, and gradually it came back to life. He was on his way back to bed when he figured out that the noise he had heard was his cell phone ringing. Once.

He found his pants and took the iPhone from the holster it lived in. There was one recent call. Then he remembered that one ring was an alert from Rob Poulter, and that another was cancellation of the alert. He had not heard the second ring. He took the phone into the bathroom, closed the door, and rang back Rob’s number.

“Poulter.”

“It’s Barrington. What’s up?”

“I have a man down on your dock.”

“How bad?”

“Unconscious—apparent blow to the head.”

“Did you bag anybody?”

“We’ve started a search. I’ve called for more men.”

“Do you need transport for your man to a hospital?”

“He’s being put into a vehicle now. We’re six miles from the nearest casualty ward. He’ll be there in ten minutes, and they’ve been advised of his arrival.”

“Do you need any help from me?”

“Thank you, sir, but I don’t want to deliver you into the wrong hands. You stay put. Are you armed?”

“I have a hunting rifle and a shotgun.”

“I’d keep the shotgun handy. Would you like me to furnish you with a handgun?”

“Maybe later, and only if it can be done legally.”

“I’ll have that worked on. Ring you back when we’re clear.”

Stone hung up, put on a robe, and padded down to the study, where there was a gun rack hidden behind a panel. He loaded the shotgun, put a handful of shells in the pocket of his robe, and went back upstairs, the shotgun broken across his arm. He didn’t want any accidents.

He sat in the shadows, in a chair by a window overlooking the front lawn. There was half a moon out, and he had a good view. He had been there perhaps fifteen minutes when the phone rang once: all clear. He went back into the bathroom, closed the door, and rang Poulter.

“Poulter.”

“How’s your man?”

“Conscious and talking. He came to in the van on the way to the casualty ward. Mild concussion, he’ll be fine after some sleep.”

“How good is the opposition?”

“Anybody who could get over on my man would have to be either very good or very lucky. I’ll assume very good.”

“Did your search turn up anybody?”

“Not yet. I’m of the opinion that, having discovered a guard on the premises, the opposition thought better of an intrusion. They’d have no way of knowing how many of us there are.”

“Do you have enough men?”

“I’ve doubled the guard. In a couple of hours more men will be arriving. I think we’ll make ourselves more conspicuous, send a message to the opposition.”

“Good. Do you need anything from me?”

“No, sir, we’re very much self-contained. We may fetch some coffee from your kitchen so that any remaining watchers can see us doing it.”

“Good night, then.” Stone hung up, dropped his robe onto a chair, first having removed the shotgun shells from the pocket and setting them on his bedside table. He laid the shotgun on the floor within reach and got back into bed. It was some time before he could doze off.

—

He was wakened by Gala shaking him. Sunlight was streaming through the windows. Stone had not adopted the English custom of drawing the drapes, shutting out the night.

“What?” he managed to say.

“What is that?” Gala asked, pointing down. She was quite naked.

Stone looked over the edge of the bed. “That’s a shotgun. Didn’t you recognize it?”

“I know what it is—what’s it doing there?”

“It’s lying in readiness.”

“Readiness for what?”

“You never know when a pheasant might disturb our sleep.”

“I’ll tell you what would disturb my sleep—the sound of a shotgun going off in my bedroom.”

“I’ll get a net for the pheasants—it’s quieter.”

“I’m going to get myself into a shower, if you’re fairly certain I won’t be disturbed by gunfire.”

“I’m fairly certain.”

She stalked off toward the bathroom. Stone picked up the phone and ordered breakfast, then he joined her in the shower.

“I hope you’re unarmed,” she said.

He pressed against her. “Not entirely.”

“Is that a shotgun?”

“No, it’s just glad to see you.”

—

Stone had finished his breakfast and was on coffee when his cell rang. He glanced at it, but the call was blocked.

“Good morning, it’s Mike. I understand there was a kerfuffle last night.”

“How is your man?”

“He was released from the hospital this morning, and I gave him the day off for some rest. Another half a dozen men are already on the job.”

“Did your man remember anything about last night?”

“Nothing. It’s disturbing that anybody could get past him.”

“Rob thought so, too. He thought that more men on the ground would send a message.”

“I’ve taken steps to get a pistol permit issued to you by the Hampshire authorities. It should be delivered to you before the day is out. Chief Inspector Holmes was very helpful. The shotgun is legal, as long as it’s not sawn off.”

“I don’t think Purdy’s, the makers, would approve of that modification.”

“Probably not. Are you feeling a little rattled?”

“No. Last night I was for a bit. Took me a while to get to sleep again.”

“I’d like you a little rattled as long as this goes on,” Mike said. “We view this as a serious matter.”

“What’s your advice?”

“You won’t take it.”

“Try me.”

“Leave the country. Go back to the States, where you can shoot an intruder without bringing the world down on you. Pick your state with that in mind.”

“My choices are New York, Maine, or California. Oh, and my girl has a place in Santa Fe.”

“New Mexico fills the bill. Do you have your airplane in England?”

“Yes.”

“Use it. I’d like you on American soil as soon as you can get there.”

“Is tomorrow night soon enough?”

“What’s wrong with tonight?”

“Am I in a hurry?”

“You should be.”

“All right, we’ll sleep tonight in the Azores and make New York tomorrow and Santa Fe soon after.”

“Where in the Azores?”

“Santa Maria, for refueling.”

“I’ll arrange dinner, bed, and breakfast. Two people?”

“Yes.”

“What time will you land?”

“I don’t know, late afternoon, maybe.”

“Does your airplane have a satphone?”

“Yes.”

“Got a pen?”

“Yes.”

Mike recited a number. “Call that when you’re an hour out. You’ll be met, and there’ll be fuel, a weather forecast, and a flight plan filed for tomorrow morning. I’m assuming you’ll be stopping in Newfoundland.”

“Yes, St. John’s.”

“Shall I call Joan and have your man meet you at Teterboro?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’ve just gotten a forecast. The Atlantic weather is gorgeous, you’ll have severe clear all the way. Don’t tarry in New York for long.”

“Thanks, Mommy.” Stone hung up.

Gala came out of the bathroom. “Anything new?”

“Yes, on advice of counsel, we’re leaving for the States. You’ve got an hour to pack.”

“Are things that bad here?”

“It’s the best advice I can get.”

“Where in the States?”

“We’ll stop in New York for a day or so, then continue to Santa Fe and hunker down there, if that’s all right with you.”

“It’s perfect for me. All this English greenery is getting on my nerves.”

Bob came trotting in. “I think Bob will like it, too.”