Severe Clear (Stone Barrington 24)

“One other thing,” Kelli said, “and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“What’s that?”

“There appears to be some discrepancy about your and Arrington’s son’s date of birth.”

Stone frowned. He hadn’t expected this, and he needed to make this go away immediately. “Peter has a birth certificate, like everybody else, and that’s a public record.”

“I know, I’ve seen it, and you are listed as the father. How did Vance Calder feel about that?”

“I wasn’t privy to conversations between Arrington and Vance, so I’ve no idea what he felt.”

“How does Peter feel about Vance?”

“He seems to have nothing but fond memories of him.”

“Do you mind if I talk to Peter?”

“I certainly do, and if you pursue that line of questioning, my cooperation will end. Is that perfectly clear?”

“Perfectly,” she said. She glanced at her watch. “Well, that’s all I have at this time. May I call you if I think of anything further?”

“This has all been painful, and I would prefer not to discuss any of it any further. I think you have enough for your book.”

“I understand,” she said. “Thank you for your cooperation.” She excused herself and left.

Stone was left staring into his wineglass.

4

Three months before Stone’s conversation with Kelli Keane, three men sat in a dentist’s reception room in Leipzig, Germany. There were no other patients waiting, and they did not seem to know each other.

From behind the two-way glass separating the reception room from the rest of the suite of offices, another man observed them. The three looked fit, but otherwise unremarkable; all appeared to be Anglo-Saxon, between twenty-five and thirty-five, and neatly dressed in casual clothing. Two of them leafed through magazines; the other stared at the mirrored glass, as if he could see through it, which the viewer found a little unsettling.

The observer pressed a button on the receptionist’s desk and the outside door to the reception room locked with a distinct click. The two reading magazines both looked at the door; the one staring into the mirror did not. The observer found that interesting. He leaned toward the microphone on the desk and spoke.

“The one farthest from the door, open the drawer in the magazine table next to you.”

They all became alert. The man opened the drawer.

“There are three pairs of cotton gloves in the drawer,” the observer continued. “Each of you put on a pair, and wipe clean any surface or magazine you may have touched.”

They did so. When they had finished, the observer continued. “You, on the right, tell us your first name and something about yourself.”

The starer wiped the brass pull on the drawer clean and looked back at the mirrored glass. “I am Hans,” he said, in unaccented American English. “I work as a test driver at the Porsche factory in Leipzig, where the Cayenne and Panamera models are assembled. I was born in Monterey, California, to a German father and an American mother. They moved to Berlin when I was sixteen, so that my father could take over an automobile repair shop owned by my grandfather.”

“Good,” the observer said. “Now, you on the left.”

“My name is Mike,” the man said. “I was born in New York City, but my parents soon moved to California, where my father opened a restaurant in the San Fernando Valley, which he still operates. I currently work as a bartender at the Beverly Hills Hotel, in Los Angeles.”

“Good. Now you, the third.”

“My name is Richard, called Rick. I was born and raised in Santa Monica, California. I attended a technical college in Burbank and studied computer science. I work for a large security company in their Los Angeles office, designing and building prototypes for large-scale alarm systems.”

“Good,” the observer said. “You may all call me Algernon. You all know that a short time ago an American SEAL team located our beloved Osama bin Laden in Pakistan and murdered him there. Our purpose—yours and mine—will be to wreak a vengeance on the United States for that despicable act from which that country may never recover.”

There were excited murmurs from the three men, and they exchanged happy glances.

“Take a good look at each other, because you will not meet again for some time, but when you do, you must recognize each other on sight. Hans, we know why you are in Leipzig. Rick, how did you travel here?”