Late in the afternoon Stone and Holly cast off his dock in his Hinckley 43 motor yacht and moved slowly down the Beaulieu River, careful not to make an excessive wake.
“This is a beautiful stretch of water,” Holly said, gazing at the passing landscape, the farms, and country houses.
“I have to agree. That and access to the Solent were big parts of my decision to buy the place.”
“I assume Felicity Devonshire brought it to your attention.”
“And insisted I buy it. I didn’t take much convincing.”
They moved around a bend in the river and picked up the marked channel to the Solent. Shortly, they were running toward the Isle of Wight, a few miles away, at 25 knots. Stone pointed out the Squadron at the head of the harbor, a castle with a row of brass cannons out front. “Henry the Eighth build this to protect England from France. I don’t think it was ever used for that purpose.”
“And yet, the cannons are there.”
“Those are used exclusively for starting and finishing races,” Stone replied. They pulled into the Squadron’s little marina, where a uniformed boatman waited to take their lines. After they had made fast and shut down, they walked the few steps to the castle’s entrance, then to the front door. Down a hallway they came to the Lounge, where cocktails were served, and found the rest of their party waiting.
Stone introduced Holly to the First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir Timothy Barnes, and to the Squadron’s commodore Derek Drummond and his wife, Hildy. Felicity introduced them to the other couple, General Sir Jeremy Pink and his wife, Nicole. A bottle of champagne was brought. They drank that, then were called to dinner in the next room. The Members Dining Room was large but comfortable; portraits of past commodores, some of them kings and princes, stared down on them. They sat at a round table for eight in the center of the room.
Dame Felicity raised her glass. “I think we should have a congratulatory toast to Stone Barrington, who has just become a deputy director and special adviser to the United States Director of Central Intelligence.”
Stone was, at first, stunned, until he remembered that Felicity always seemed to know everything before anyone else.
Stone thanked them. “The appointment is only about two hours old,” he said. “Dame Felicity continues to astonish me with her knowledge of all things.”
“I’d understood that you were a lawyer, Stone,” Tim Barnes said.
“There is no change in that regard,” Stone replied. “I’ll continue to be based in New York and remain active with my firm.”
“What will you advise the director on?” Pink asked.
“That remains to be seen,” Stone replied.
“Of course, you must be secretive about that.”
“Not just yet, since I have not acquired any secrets.”
“I should tell you, too,” Felicity said, “if you don’t already know, that Holly Barker is a former director of Central Intelligence, and that she is, currently, the American secretary of state. Also, it is rumored, she might be soon announcing her candidacy for the Democratic nomination for president.” There was a round of quiet applause.
Holly bowed her head in acknowledgment, but said nothing.
The first course arrived and Felicity turned toward Stone. “Perhaps you have not heard that Brigadier Fife-Simpson has left Her Majesty’s service and taken retirement.”
Pink spoke up. “He declined a posting in the Falklands.” There were quiet chuckles around the table.
“I should mention,” Felicity said quietly to Stone, “that the commodore is a retired Royal Marine, and everyone here has signed the Official Secrets Act, so tales are not being told out of school.”
“I’ve met the brigadier only a few times, but I can understand that everyone involved is relieved,” Stone said, raising more chuckles.
“I hope to God that someone is keeping an eye on that fellow,” Sir Jeremy Pink remarked.
“Someone is,” Felicity replied drily. “He was most recently observed drunk, in the In & Out bar of the Naval and Military Club. After dinner, the doorman decanted him into a cab.”
“Somehow,” Pink said, “I feel the country is safer tonight.”
They finished with an excellent vintage port, with Stilton, then were offered brandy. Stone drank lightly, as he was driving the Hinckley.
On the way back across the Solent, driving more slowly in the dark, Stone explained to Holly who Brigadier Roger Fife-Simpson was.
“Every military or intelligence service attracts a few people like that,” Holly said. “I’ve known my share of them.”
“I’m glad you missed the opportunity of knowing this one,” Stone said.
“I heard from Lance about his visit to Langley and his encounter with Wu.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see that,” Stone said.
Back at Windward Hall, Stone found a note to call Joan. His cell phone had been off for the evening, but it was late afternoon in New York.
“Well,” Joan said when Stone had raised her. “I’ve never known you not to carry your cell phone.”
“I’ve got a new one, and it hasn’t been activated yet.”
“We got a call from Lance Cabot’s office, saying that they want to install some equipment here tomorrow. What’s that all about?”
“Lance has asked me to spend more of my time consulting with the Agency. I’m called a ‘senior adviser to the director’ now. I expect that work will be a secure line to the Agency.”
“And a dedicated computer link, too,” Holly said.
“I heard that. Holly’s there, is she? My regards.”
Stone passed that on. “By the way, you will soon undergo a background check for a security clearance, so I hope there are no skeletons in any of your closets.”
“Not that they’ll ever find,” Joan replied.
“I wouldn’t count on that. You’ll have forms to fill out, so don’t lie about anything, even to protect me.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“Dino and Viv, but it’s not a secret. There won’t be a public announcement, so you won’t have to field any questions from the media.”
“The rumor is out there: I’ve already had calls from the Times and the Washington Post. I told them I didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.”
“You’ll have to apologize the next time they call.”
“Oh, all right. Anything else?”
“I’ll call if I think of anything. We’re going to bed now.” He hung up and turned his attention to Holly, burrowing under the covers.
“Another minute, and I’d have been asleep,” she said, reaching for him.