“What with having two presidents in residence, you and Mike must have some security concerns.” She didn’t look directly at him when she said this.
Stone caught something in her statement; he wasn’t sure what. “Yes, the Secret Service will be there in strength, and so will the Strategic Services people.”
“Good,” she said.
“Felicity, is there something you want to tell me?”
“Want to but can’t,” she replied, looking into her martini.
“Suppose something terrible happens, and you didn’t warn me?”
“Then I would feel very guilty,” she replied.
“Come on, unburden yourself.” But the menus arrived, and they took time to study them. “I’m not letting you off the hook,” he said when the waiter had taken their orders and gone.
“Something did come across my desk,” she said, “but I don’t want to raise the alarm over what might be nothing.”
“Do you recall that a couple of years ago you forced me to sign your Official Secrets Act?”
She brightened. “That’s right, I did, didn’t I? Prescient of me.”
“Yes, it was. Now give, please.”
“Oh, all right.” She looked around to be sure no one was within earshot. “Our signals people have picked up a series of oddly signed messages,” she said.
“Would the signatures be from a nursery rhyme?”
Felicity’s jaw dropped. “Now you must tell me how you know that.”
“No, I mustn’t.”
“I have to know if there was a leak on my end.”
“There was no leak. Those messages were picked up by the NSA.”
Her eyes widened. “And they circulated that information to you, a private citizen?”
“Actually, they probably don’t know that I was in the loop. Let’s just say they circulated it to someone I know.”
“Someone at the CIA?”
“No.”
“Well, if I were in charge around here, I’d have this person you know taken out and shot!”
“You may recall that I am still under contract to the Agency as a consultant,” Stone said, “and I have the appropriate security clearance—in spite of my friendship with you.”
“But do you have a need to know? I believe that’s the phraseology they use.”
“I have a very definite need to know,” Stone said, “since a substantial chunk of my inheritance from my late wife and of my son’s trust fund are invested in the hotel mentioned in the signals you referred to.”
“Oh, all right, I suppose you’re not a security risk.”
Their dinner arrived, and the subject changed.
“How are you . . . coping since becoming a widower?” she asked.
“You needn’t be so delicate,” Stone replied. “I plan to take you home and ravish you as soon as you’ve finished your Dover sole.”