Dirty Work (Stone Barrington 9)

“Her name is Marie-Thérèse du Bois. She’s the suspect in the diplomatic killing on Park Avenue.”

“Is that all you know about her?”

“According to our friends across the sea in British intelligence, she’s a big-time assassin who’s murdered people all over Europe. By the way, she’s killed at least three other people since she arrived in New York.” He handed Grady her passport.

Grady flipped through it and stopped. “This says she arrived in the U.S. from Canada yesterday,” he said, pointing at a stamp.

Dino looked at it. “Gotta be a fake,” he said.

“Run it past the Feds.”

“Not yet, Cap. I don’t want them in on this. I’ve got a lady from British intelligence on the way here now.”

“When’s she coming?”

“She’s driving down from Connecticut with a friend of mine; maybe an hour.”

“Is this friend of yours Barrington?”

“Ah, yeah, Cap. Why do you ask?”

“Because you don’t have any other friends. What’s he got to do with this?”

“Well, he and the Brit lady are sort of an item. We both met her in London last year.”

“Have you talked to your suspect yet?”

“I was just about to when you got here. I was waiting for the deputy DA to get here, too.”

“You got him out of bed?” Grady asked, chortling. “I want to see that.”

“You’re looking at it, Captain,” a voice behind them said.

Dino and the captain turned to find George Mellon, the deputy DA, standing behind them.

“She doesn’t look all that dangerous,” he said, peering through the glass.

“I’m going to go in and feel her out,” Dino said.

“Get her signature on a Miranda waiver before you ask her a fucking thing,” Mellon said.

Dino opened the door and went into the room.

Stone was driving down the nearly deserted I-684 at 140 miles per hour.

“Won’t this t

hing go any faster?” Carpenter demanded.

“Yes, it will, but I won’t go any faster. I’ve never driven this fast in my life.”

“Chicken,” she muttered.

Stone eased the accelerator to the floor, and the speed climbed another fifteen mph. “I forgot, the speed is electronically limited to one-fifty-five.”

“Shit,” Carpenter said. “Why didn’t you buy something fast?”

Stone began thinking about what he might say to a New York State trooper, and about the roadblock that might have already been set up ahead of him somewhere. He checked the sky for helicopters.