Lucid Intervals (Stone Barrington 18)
Page 4
“Oh, come on,” Stone said. “Give us a hint.”
“We are not in the ‘hint’ business,” she said.
“Of course you are,” Stone said. “Hints are what you do. I mean, you never come right out and say anything; you just hint.”
“You may have noticed that I have not hinted. What on earth do you mean by refusing a fee of a million dollars?”
“You do remember Herbie, don’t you?”
“How could I forget him?” she asked. “Asked to take a photograph of an assignation from a rooftop, he fell through a skylight and broke both of one my colleague’s legs, as I recall. Of course, my colleague was already dead, but that hardly matters in the circumstances, does it?”
“It does not,” Stone said, “but you have just illustrated why I didn’t take Herbie’s money. It would have bought me ten million dollars’ worth of trouble.”
“Quite.”
“Would you like some dinner?”
“Yes, please. I couldn’t eat what they gave me at the Saudi UN embassy. I believe it was goat or something very like it.”
Stone signaled for a menu, and she glanced at it.
“Order for me, would you?”
“You’re starved?”
“Ravenous.”
Stone turned to the waiter. “Bring her the osso buco with polenta and a bottle of the Chianti Classico,” Stone said to the waiter.
“That’s goat, isn’t it?” Felicity asked. “Or something very like it?”
“You know very well that it’s veal,” Stone said.
“If you say so.”
“Excuse me a minute,” Dino said, and then headed for the men’s room.
“He’s being discreet,” Stone said. “He knows you want to talk to me about something.”
Felicity polished off her Rob Roy. “I wish to engage you,” she said.
“I’d be delighted,” Stone said.
“Not in that capacity,” she said.
“In my capacity as an attorney?”
“In one or more of your capacities,” she replied, “although Her Majesty can’t compete with Mr. Fisher’s generosity.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, we can do this one of two ways,” she replied. “At your hourly rate-two hundred dollars, isn’t it?”
“Five hundred,” Stone replied.
Felicity blinked.
“Everything has gone up,” Stone said.