said. “I’ll phone the commander of the Metropolitan Police tomorrow and make the request.” She took another sip of her drink. “Why do you suppose Hackett wants you to learn to fly a jet aeroplane?”
“I can only guess,” Stone said. “When he was trying to persuade me to come to work for him he told me that, in a year, I’d be able to afford my own jet.”
“That must be very alluring for you,” Felicity said.
“It’s interesting, but not alluring.”
“I’ll bet you’ve had little-boy fantasies for years about flying your own jet.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Stone admitted.
“Then why don’t you go to work for him?”
“That’s what I’m doing right now; Woodman and Weld has assigned me to Hackett.”
“So what’s the difference?”
“The difference is, if you can prove that Hackett is Whitestone, you’re going to do something terrible to him, and Strategic Services would probably come crashing down without him to run it. Then where would I be?”
“Not at Woodman and Weld.”
“Exactly.”
“If that happened,” Dino pointed out, “you could sell your hypothetical jet and live on the proceeds.”
“Sell my hypothetical jet?” Stone asked. “Never!”
Felicity managed a laugh.
“You should do that more often,” Stone said. “You’ve been working too hard.”
“No harder than usual.”
“Who’s minding the store in London while you’re here?”
“I have a very competent deputy who handles the administrative side. The rest I am doing from the office here.”
“Don’t you ever have to make an appearance?” Dino asked.
“Eventually,” Felicity replied. “It’s not as though I’m the prime minister or some other public figure. I don’t have to appear in the newspapers or on television every day or be interviewed by anyone.”
“How much longer can I count on having you as my houseguest?” Stone asked.
“At least until we get to the bottom of the Hackett/Whitestone riddle,” she replied.
“Then I’ll have to work more slowly,” Stone said.
36
Stone submitted to the tender ministrations of Ms. Ida Ann Dunn for the remainder of the week. Felicity was little seen and reported no further progress on substantiating the identity of James Hackett.
On Friday afternoon Ida Ann closed the operator’s manual, switched off her projector and handed Stone a thick sheaf of papers. “Your final examination,” she said. “You have three hours.” She tucked the manual in one of her cases. “So you can’t cheat,” she said. “I’ll be back.”
Ida Ann disappeared and came back in two and a half hours. “Are you done?” she asked as she walked into Stone’s office.
“You said I have three hours,” Stone replied.
“I didn’t say you had to take three hours.”