Strategic Moves (Stone Barrington 19)

“Did you get any dinner?”

“Leftover pizza and a beer.”

“Ugh.”

“Did you do any better?”

“A greasy hamburger and some cheap wine in the conference room. Standard work-late fare. Are you still hungover?”

“Oddly, no.”

“A hangover never lasts past dinner. Want me to come over?”

“Yes, please.”

And she did.

FORTY-EIGHT

Stone woke at his usual hour with Willa’s head on his shoulder. He disengaged from her as gently as possible, then performed his ablutions in the bathroom. When he returned, Willa was sitting up in bed, bare-breasted, with the TV on.

“Breakfast, if you please,” she said.

“Of course. May I take your order?”

“Whatever you’re having,” she replied.

“You’re becoming more and more agreeable,” he said.

“About the bourbon—after yesterday I think I would throw up if I even smelled it again.”

“Too much of a good thing?”

“Way too much.”

“I hope you don’t feel the same way about scrambled eggs, bacon, and English muffin,” he said.

“I love all of them.”

Stone called Helene, and she sent breakfast up on the dumbwaiter.

Then the TV screen went dark, and the words BREAKING NEWS appeared.

“This just in to NBC News,” a young woman was saying. “American air forces are engaged in heavy bombing in the Tora Bora region, southeast of Kabul, in Afghanistan. Sources tell NBC that thousand-pound penetrating bombs are being dropped on what may be a network of caves in the mountains there, and there is speculation that the target may be Osama bin Laden.” She began to relate the history of U.S. action in that region of the country.

“You think they got him?” Willa asked, taking a bite of her muffin.

“I hope so,” Stone said.

Joan buzzed him. “Pablo for you.”

Stone picked up the phone. “Pablo?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Have you seen the news?”

“I’m looking at it right now.”

“So am I,” Pablo replied.