“Are you in touch with Pablo?”
“No, but he’s in touch with me. He called five minutes ago, having seen the news reports. His family are arriving today at wherever he is, and of course he’s very concerned about their safety.”
“I’ll talk to Lance,” she said, and hung up.
Willa was starin
g at him. “This is like being in the middle of a spy novel.”
“I want your word you will not speak of this to anyone,” Stone said.
“Do you think I’m an idiot? I don’t want to be involved, I’m just fascinated to hear about it.”
“Don’t you have to go to work?”
“It’s Saturday,” she pointed out, “but if you want me out of here, say the word.”
He kissed her on the neck. “No, I don’t want you out of here.”
“Who’s going to call next?” Willa asked.
“I’ve no idea.”
The phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Herbie.”
Stone was silent.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks, and I can’t talk right now,” Stone replied.
“Okay. Can I call you later?”
“Make it Monday,” Stone said, and hung up.
“And who was that?” Willa asked.
“A client, unrelated to anything on the news.”
Willa set her tray on the floor and cuddled up to him. “Let me take your mind off all this.”
“I don’t think you can,” Stone said.
But she could, and did.
FORTY-NINE
Joan buzzed again, and Stone picked up the phone. “Why are you in on Saturday morning?” he asked, panting from his exertions with Willa.
“Never look a gift horse in the mouth,” she replied. “Holly Barker on line one.”
Stone picked up the phone. “Yes, Holly?”
“I figured out who gave Pablo’s name to the press,” she said.
“And who would that be?”