“Not to me,” Holly replied.
“Look at it this way, Holly,” Lance said. “Would you be willing to put your pursuit of Trini Rodriguez on hold for a couple of days, if the payoff were to destroy a terrorist money-management cell and confiscate a lot of their available cash?”
Holly looked into her cappuccino. “If I had to, I suppose.”
“Voilà!” Lance exclaimed. “A patriot!”
“And what happens after this little operation is over?” Holly asked.
“Then,” Lance said, “I might be able to help you achieve your objective.”
“You swear?” Holly demanded.
“I swear to try,” Lance said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be content with that.”
“Oh, all right,” Holly said.
23
STONE LET THEM into the house and closed the door behind him. “Pack some things,” he said. “Casual—jeans, et cetera, something you can wear to a good restaurant, but still casual.”
“Where are we going?” Holly asked.
“Away for the weekend. Daisy will love it.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Holly said.
Daisy looked pleased, too, when she heard the news.
Stone had previously backed the car into the garage. Now he pressed the remote, and by the time the door had opened, he had started the car and had it in gear. He pulled across the sidewalk gingerly, then turned toward Third Avenue, driving as quickly as he could and frequently checking the rearview mirror. A touch of the remote closed the door behind him.
“Why are we leaving town?” Holly asked.
“One, it’s a weekend; New Yorkers leave town on weekends. Two, it’s good for Daisy. Three, I need some country air. And four, to keep you out of trouble for the next couple of days.”
“And why do you think I need to be kept out of trouble?”
“I know damned well that if we stay in the city this weekend, you’ll be looking for Trini. You won’t be able to help yourself.”
“I said I wouldn’t interfere for a couple of days. Why do you keep looking in the rearview mirror?”
“For safety reasons,” Stone replied. “New Yorkers are very careful drivers.”
“Not from what I’ve seen. Who do you think might be following us?”
“Maybe the two men who were watching the house.”
“What?”
“There were two men in the block: one across the street, wearing a black leather jacket, and one a few buildings up, wearing blue coveralls, looking in a shop window.”
“What’s so odd about a man looking in a shop window?”
“It’s a knitting and sewing shop,” Stone explained.
“Maybe he knits?”
“Maybe he’s FBI, if we’re lucky. Maybe he’s a friend of Trini, if we’re not.”