“She’ll know better than I when it’s time to do that.”
“I suppose so.”
Holly finished her glass of wine and waited for Stone to refill her glass, then she took a healthy swig of that.
“I saw two men in a car near my house,” Stone said. “Are they yours?”
“They’d better be,” Holly said.
“Why don’t you invite them into the house? Put one inside my office outside door and one in the kitchen—that way they can watch both the street and the garden.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Mind? I don’t want my house blown up.”
“I’ll do it, then.”
“I feel better already,” Stone said.
Joan buzzed Stone. “Herbie on one.”
Stone pressed the button. “Morning, Herb. How are you?”
“Extremely well,” Herbie replied. “And you?”
“Can’t complain.” He didn’t mention that there was CIA security at the front and rear of his house.
“Is Holly in town?”
“She is.”
“Will the two of you have dinner with Harp and me this evening?”
“Let me check with Holly—hang on.”
Stone pressed the hold button, rang Holly and got an affirmative reply.
“Sure, where and when?”
“La Grenouille at eight?”
“Nice choice. We’ll be there.” They both hung up. Stone reflected that he was unable to keep up with Herbie’s progress as a sophisticate. A year before he would never have heard of La Grenouille.
—
Stone and Holly arrived at the restaurant a little late, and Stone was surprised to find James Rutledge and Kelli Keane at the table with Herbie and Harp. He introduced Holly, and they sat down.
A waiter appeared with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Grande Dame champagne and presented it to Herbie, who nodded. “Would anyone prefer something else to drink? Stone, I’m sure they have Knob Creek.”
“My favorite champagne is always good enough for me,” Stone said, as the waiter made his rounds, then brought them menus.
“When is your book out, Kelli?” Stone asked.
“Very soon,” she replied.
“I hope I’m not going to get a raft of calls from the media.”
“I think all their questions will be answered in the book,” she said, cryptically.