Dirty Work (Stone Barrington 9)

“Stop here,” Marie-Thérèse said. “Sir Edward, you will accompany these gentlemen to the main entrance of the library, then you will be free to go.” Grabbing the wheels, she maneuvered the wheelchair through a rest room door bearing a handicapped-use sign.

“Let’s go,” Stone said, indicating the way for Sir Edward.

Marie-Thérèse locked the door, shed some clothes, and produced others and a wig from her large handbag. A quick check in the mirror, and she left the rest room, abandoning the wheelchair and her other clothes. She returned to Bryant Park and headed toward Sixth Avenue. As she reached the sidewalk, half a dozen men ran past her as she hailed a cab.

Stone paused at the top of the library’s front steps. “That concludes our transaction, Sir Edward.”

“I should bloody well hope so,” Sir Edward replied.

“You couldn’t just play it straight, could you? So much for the word of an English gentleman.”

“Oh, go roger yourself,” Sir Edward said, sweat rolling down his face.

“You should get out of that body armor before you have a heart attack,” Dino said. “Let’s go, Stone.” He led the way down the front steps, and they got into Dino’s car, which was waiting at the curb. “Where to?”

“Home, I guess.” The car moved off.

“And where is Marie-Thérèse now?” Dino asked.

“I don’t know,” Stone said, “and I don’t want to know.”

Marie-Thérèse opened her cell phone and dialed the number on the bank receipt Sir Edward had given her.

“Wire transfer department,” a woman’s voice said.

Marie-Thérèse read off the account number from the sheet in her hand.

“What is your code?”

“Structure.”

“Accepted. What are your instructions?”

“Wire the full amount to the following number at Saint George’s Bank, Cayman Islands.” She recited an account number.

The woman repeated the number for confirmation. “The funds will be in your account tomorrow morning,” she said.

“Why not today?” Marie-Thérèse asked.

“Transfers must be made before two p.m., or they go out the following business day.”

“Make an exception,” Marie-Thérèse said.

“I’m afraid it’s a nationwide banking rule,” the woman replied. “Good day.” She hung up.

Marie-Thérèse dialed Stone’s cell phone number.

“Yes?”

“The bank won’t wire the funds until tomorrow morning.”

“That’s normal. Transfers have to be made by two p.m.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll check with my bank in the morning, and if the funds are n

ot there . . .”

“Please, don’t tell me,” Stone said.