Chapter 5

On Monday, Stone sat in his office, feeling restless. Though it had been less than a week since Carly left, it felt closer to a month. He had come to count on her perspective and her keen legal mind.

It's just temporary, he told himself. She'll be back.

Probably.

"Are you still moping?" Joan said from his office doorway.

"I'm not moping."

"You are, and it's upsetting Tracy." Tracy West was Stone's new associate.

"I'm sure she's not upset."

"Let's ask." Before Stone could stop her, Joan called out, "Tracy, can you come here for a moment."

"Leave her alone," Stone said.

Still looking down the hall, Joan said, "Ah, there you are. Come, come."

A moment later, Tracy appeared beside her, holding a legal pad. She was a slip of a girl, with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and wide round eyes that, at the moment, appeared nervous.

"Yes?" she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Stone has a question for you."

Tracy looked into the office. "Yes, Mr. Barrington?"

"Don't pay attention to her, Tracy," Stone said. "You can go back to your office."

"Just a moment," Joan said. "Tracy, you know how Stone has been moping around all week?"

"Um, well, I guess."

"You did ask me about it, didn't you?"

Tracy looked mortified. "I—I—I didn't mean…"

Joan glanced at Stone. "She asked me if this is the way you always are."

Tracy covered her face with the pad. "Oh, God. I'm sorry. I, um…"

"It's okay, dear," Joan said. "You have excellent observation skills. And you are right to be upset. He has been moping."

Tracy stared at Joan, appalled. "You told him I was upset?"

"It's fine. He needs to hear those kinds of things now and then." To Stone, Joan said, "What you need is to get out of town. You have the Centurion Pictures board meeting coming up soon, you should head out now. Take in some sun."

"I can get plenty of sun here, thank you very much."

"Says the man who hasn't left the house since last Wednesday."

He smiled at Tracy. "I appreciate your concern. Thank you. You can return to your office." His gaze moved to Joan. "As for you, I'm sure there's something you can busy yourself with."

The phone began to ring.

"Like that," he said.

Joan disappeared and the ringing stopped.

"Dino on one," she yelled.

Stone picked up the line. "What do you want?"

"Just as I suspected," Dino said. "You're moping, aren't you?"

"Have you been talking to Joan?"

"Is this a trick question? She answered the phone."

"It's a coordinated attack."

"Now you're sounding paranoid. Maybe you should get out of town for a while."

Stone dropped his forehead into his hand.

"Are you still there?" Dino asked.

"I guess a trip might not be that bad of an idea," Stone admitted.

"When have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Do you want a complete list or just the highlights?"

"I'll pretend you didn't ask that."

"If I do go somewhere, do you want to join me?"

"Do you think I have unlimited vacation?"

"Based on past history, I'd say yes."

"That's where you're wrong. Plus, even if I did, I have too much going on here right now. And don't forget Viv and I are joining you in L.A. for the board meeting soon, so I'll be taking time off for that. Any travel before then, you'll have to do solo."

"Fine."

"Dinner tonight?"

"Patroon at seven?"

"Done."

Stone spent the next hour attempting to review the draft of a contract for a client, but he kept getting distracted by trying to figure out where he should go. He finally gave up and put his computer to sleep.

Maine was out. Memories of the last visit to his house on Islesboro when elements of the Russian mob had tried to kill him were still too fresh. Key West? Possibly. Though he didn't like the idea of going there alone.

Maybe Joan was right, and he should simply head to L.A. early. He could spend time with Peter and Hattie, and work remotely until the board meeting.

He was reaching for his desk phone to call Peter to make sure he'd be around when his cell phone rang. The caller ID read No Caller ID.

He scowled. It had to be Lance, calling to brag about how well Carly was doing. Stone almost let it go to voicemail, but ignoring Lance's calls, no matter how unwanted, was never a good idea.

He hit the accept button.

"Scramble," a voice said too quickly to be recognized.

"Scramble," Stone said, confirming his phone was using its CIA-installed encryption. "How can I help you, Lance?"

"I've been called many things in my life, but Lance is not one of them."

Stone instantly relaxed. "Holly. How are you?"

Holly Barker was the president of the United States, Stone's sometime paramour, and the only woman since Arrington with whom Stone would consider settling down.

"If you're expecting a call from Lance, we can talk later."

"Even if I was, he would be the one who would have to wait. Not you."

"How sweet."

"You haven't answered my question. How are you?"

"Feeling like I'm being pulled in a million directions at the same time."

"So, situation normal."

"Sadly, yes. I miss you."

"The feeling is mutual. Say, I've been thinking about getting out of the city. How about I come down to D.C. for a few days?"

"That would be lovely, but I won't be there."

"Oh."

"Don't tell anyone, but I'm sneaking away for some R R myself, and I thought perhaps you'd like to join me."

"Very much. Where and when?"

"As far as the press and public will know, I'll be at Camp David, but really, I'll be staying at Kate and Will's in Santa Fe." Kate and Will Lee were her two immediate predecessors as president. "They'll be there tomorrow night, then they're leaving for Hawaii the following day. The place would be all ours. Well, ours and the Secret Service."

"When will you arrive?"

"I should be there in time for dinner."

"Then so will I."

Once they'd said their goodbyes, Stone buzzed Joan. "Call Faith. Tell her we'll be flying to Santa Fe tomorrow. I'd like wheels up at ten a.m."

"Taking my advice, I see."

"Accepting an offer I have no desire to refuse."

"You say potato."

"No. I believe I said, ‘Call Faith.'?"

"Wake up," Devin said, shaking Benji's arm.

Benji cracked his eyes open and looked around. They were driving down a street lined with dingy fast-food joints and old mixed-use buildings.

He stretched and sat up. From the angle of the sun, he guessed it was late afternoon.

"Welcome to Chicago," Devin said.

"How close are we?"

"Half mile."

"Anything from my brother?"

"Yeah. He texted about fifteen minutes ago. He's already there."

"Of course he is."

Benji smelled his armpits, then blew into his palm. He immediately cringed. "Please tell me you have gum?"

Devin pulled a pack from his pocket and tossed it to him.

After the heist in Aspen, they had gone to Denver. They dropped Sticks off at the airport, so he could fly to Vegas and wait until they needed him again. Next, they ditched the car they'd stolen, picked up a rental, and then spent a few days at the Lazy C Motor Lodge near downtown, keeping a low profile.

Confident no one was looking for them, they had set out that morning in the wee hours, and except for a few stops to fuel up and stretch, had been on the road ever since.

Devin turned onto a side road that was home to several unmarked buildings and nodded at a particularly ratty-looking one half a block away. "I think that's it."

Benji checked the address. "Yeah. Pull into the lot and go around back. There's supposed to be a roll-up door there."

Devin did as instructed.

The door was right where it was supposed to be, and as they neared, it began to churn upward.

Benji's half brother, Simon, stepped out and signaled for Devin to drive inside. Devin did so and parked next to a Mercedes S class. Behind them, the door rolled down again.

Benji climbed out first. "Hey."

"Any problems?" Simon had never been one for niceties, at least where Benji was concerned.

"The only cop I saw was going the other way." Benji glanced at Devin. "You see any?"

"A state trooper drove right past us without even looking at me. That's it."

"Good," Simon said. "Show it to me."

Benji popped the trunk and removed the two suitcases inside. Under them was the box that contained the painting. He pulled it out and set it on the ground.

He was about to undo one of the latches when his brother said, "Move."

Benji stepped back, then Simon opened the box and sucked in a breath. The painting was facing up, looking just like it had on the wall in Aspen, sans frame.

With great care, he removed it from the box and held it out so that he could take in every inch.

"Breathtaking."

Benji glanced over his shoulder. "It's not bad."

Simon gawked. "Not bad? This is an Andrew Wyeth. He is one of America's greatest painters. And you say this is not bad? Don't speak of things you know nothing about."

"Sorry," Benji mumbled. "I just meant I liked it."

An alarm went off on Simon's watch. He placed the painting back in the box, then silenced the buzz.

"I need to go," he said. He pulled a fob from his pocket and pushed one of the buttons. The Mercedes's trunk swung up. "Put it in there."

While Benji and Devin transferred the box to the trunk, Simon climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

Once the trunk was shut, Simon lowered the driver's window halfway. "The door."

"What about it?" Benji asked.

Anger flared in Simon's eyes. He pointed at the roll-up door. "Open it."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

Benji jogged over and pulled on the chain that controlled the door until there was enough room for the sedan to pass through.

Simon raced out of the building and drove off without another glance.

"Your brother's kind of a dick," Devin said.

"He was just in a hurry."

"If you say so."