Strategic Moves (Stone Barrington 19)

“Did someone make him an offer he can’t refuse?” Stone asked.

“Well, yes,” Lance replied.

“I suppose that involved what you people like to call ‘enhanced interrogation’?”

“His interrogation was certainly enhanced,” Lance said, “but not in the way you might imagine. The offer he couldn’t refuse involved a new life for himself and his family, certain protections, and a considerable sum of money. He will be a very happy ex-spy.”

“More likely a double agent,” Stone said.

“That, while covered by your security clearance, is on a need-to-know basis, and you most definitely do not need to know.”

Lance rose. “Will you invite me to dinner tonight on your island?”

Stone stood, too. “I’m very sorry, but I have a previous engagement with someone a lot more beautiful than you, Lance.”

“Rain check, then?”

“Next time you’re in New York, I’ll take you to Elaine’s.”

“Done.”

The two men walked toward the door together. “The chopper awaits you,” Lance said.

“And when will you make your new offer to Mike Freeman?”

“I have already done so,” Lance said.

“And what did you offer him that he can’t refuse?”

“I’m sure he’ll tell you in due course,” Lance replied. “He may even tell you about the mission we’ve engaged him for. That’s up to him.”

“I’m not going to like it, am I?” Stone asked.

“You may, or you may not,” Lance replied. “Your opinion is of little consequence. Have a nice flight.” They were in the entrance hall now. Lance turned and bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

Stone found his coat, hat, and gloves and walked outside. The rotors of the helicopter were already turning.

“Right this way, Mr. Barrington,” a man standing next to the machine shouted.

Stone climbed aboard, found a headset to protect his hearing, and buckled his seat belt.

The copter rose vertically, banked to the north, and climbed to a hundred feet or so, high enough to pass over the mast of any unsuspecting yacht that might be out for a cold-weather sail.

Stone watched Islesboro come into view, then the airstrip, and he wondered what sort of an offer Mike Freeman could not refuse.

SIXTEEN

Stone got back to the house in the late afternoon, hung up his heavy coat and took off his boots, then found Adele in the living room.

“I thought you had abandoned me,” Adele said, pouting.

“I’m very sorry. I got . . . swept up in a business thing and couldn’t get back until now.”

“A business thing? I thought nobody knew where we were.”

“A business associate happened to fly over the island and saw the airplane parked at the strip, and he insisted on a meeting. Can I get you something warming to drink?”

“I’ll try some of that bourbon you like,” she said.