Dirty Work (Stone Barrington 9)

“Not exactly,” Architect replied, “but I am having dinner this evening with the director of that agency, who is in New York, and I will see that he is appropriately apprised of our activities.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sparks replied.

“Well,” Architect said, closing his briefcase, “I believe we’re finished.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Carpenter said. “Do you have an assignment for me?”

Architect gazed at her. “Well, obviously, since La Biche has seen you up close, we can’t send you around to these bars . . . however much you might wish to go. . . .”

Carpenter’s ears got hot again.

“. . . But I believe you are personally acquainted with this lawyer—Barrington? Is that his name?”

Carpenter looked over at Mason, who had assumed a studious attitude with some papers before him.

“Yes, Barrington. Since La Biche apparently has an interest in him, your assignment, Carpenter, will be to see that the twain do not meet. If she keeps killing civilians . . .” He left that thought unfinished.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“And further, Carpenter, you are directed to t

ake whatever measures are necessary to remain alive. You’re no good to me dead.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Mason said.

“Yes, Mason?”

“May we have instructions on what to do about La Biche, once we’ve found her?”

Good for you, Mason, Carpenter thought. Get him on the record.

“You are not—repeat, not—to attempt to detain her,” Architect said. “She is far too dangerous, and I don’t want to lose any more people.” Architect closed his briefcase. “Dispose of her,” he said, “by whatever means are available.”

“Sir,” Mason pressed on, “any such opportunities that arise are likely to be in public places.”

“I am aware of that, Mason,” Architect said. “Try to avoid collateral damage.” He picked up his briefcase and walked out of the room.

As the group filed out, Carpenter fell into step with Mason. “Are you prepared to follow that order?” she asked quietly.

“I am unaccustomed,” Mason said, “to not following his orders.”

36

Stone was getting hungrier and hungrier, and Carpenter had not called. The phone finally rang.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” she said.

“How did your meeting go?”

“I’ll tell you about it later.”

“How much later?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to work through the evening. Why don’t you go to Elaine’s, and I’ll meet you there later?”

“Do you feel safe at Elaine’s?” Stone asked.