“Steve, can I offer you a drink?” Stone asked.
“I wish I could, Stone, but I’m not having a drink until this weekend is over and both presidents are on their respective airplanes.”
Mike spoke up. “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod,” he said.
“What?” Rifkin asked.
“That’s only one bomb—there could be two more.”
“Maybe,” Rifkin said, “but not in this hotel. And if another one shows up, we’ll find it.”
“I hope you’re right,” Mike said. They got out of the cart, and Rifkin reached into his pocket. “Here’s a present for you,” he said, handing the bomb key to Mike, then he drove away.
“I hope he’s right, too,” Stone said.
42
Holly Barker had been working almost nonstop since her arrival in L.A., assisting Kate Lee during the security discussions with President Vargas and Mexico’s head of national intelligence. The only break she had had was drinks at Stone’s cottage on the evening of her arrival. Now everybody had initialed the draft of the security agreement, and it was being edited and translated for signing at the closing ceremony. Holly wanted out of the presidential cottage. She called Stone’s cell number.
“Yes?”
“It’s Holly.”
“How are you? I haven’t seen you since cocktails.”
“I’ve been working eighteen hours a day, and I am now experiencing an extreme case of cabin fever.”
“Sounds like what you need is a change of cabins.”
“That and at least one drink, followed by, ah, exercise.”
“Is now too soon?”
“Nope.”
“Come through the garden gate—it will be open, as will the French doors to my suite.”
Stone put down the book he had been trying to read, Chernow’s biography of George Washington, and checked the little bar for the proper ingredients, which were a bottle of Knob Creek and ice.
There was a scratch on the French doors, and Holly swept in. “Hallelujah!” she exclaimed. “Free again.” She lavished a kiss on Stone for half a minute, then broke. “Bourbon whiskey, please,” she said, kicking off her shoes.
Stone poured two and handed her one.
“To the completion of negotiations,” she said, raising her glass.
“Congratulations,” Stone replied, and they each took a large bite of bourbon. “All done?”
“It’s being prepared for signatures as we speak,” she said. “I can’t say the same for the presidents’ discussions, but I understand there are only a couple of sticking points.”
“How much time have you got?” he asked, kissing her on the neck and scratching a nipple.
“An hour and three minutes before I have to attend a video intelligence briefing from Langley with my mistress.”
“Then let’s not waste any of it,” Stone said. Seconds later they were in bed and in each other’s arms.
“I’m surprised Felicity Devonshire is over here, sniffing around,” Holly said.
“Jealousy? I like that. Don’t you like her?”