Dirty Work (Stone Barrington 9)

“Couple of times a year, maybe. Usually, it’s a woman.”

“It’s a woman tonight,” Stone said.

“Anybody we know?” Dino asked.

Stone looked directly at Carpenter for the first time that evening. “She’s not a hundred miles from this table.”

“Oh, I like the thought of driving a man to drink,” Carpenter said.

Stone stared into his bourbon.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Carpenter said.

“No, I don’t.”

“It’s a war, and we’ve got to win it.”

“You won the First World War and lost a million men, a whole generation of leadership. You won the Second World War and had your cities and your industry reduced to smoking rubble and lost your empire. What do you hope to win this time?”

Carpenter shrugged. “Some sort of peace.”

“At what price?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“I admire your commitment, but not your tactics,” Stone said.

“In every country, even in this one, there are a few who are willing to do what’s necessary to achieve greater good. The public doesn’t care, they look the other way, while we clean up the mess left by foreign policy.”

“Oh, thank God for the few,” Stone said, raising his glass. He took a large swig. “The few make me sick.”

“You’re not going to throw up in my police car, are you?” Dino asked.

“I may throw up on this table if I hear any more of this.”

“Dino,” Carpenter said, “can’t you explain this to him?”

“He wouldn’t understand,” Dino said.

“Oh, I understand, all right,” Stone replied. “It’s just that what I understand makes me ill.”

Carpenter threw her napkin on the table and drained her wineglass. “Well, I don’t think I’ll go on making you sick.” She stood up.

“Do you have any idea what’s going to happen tomorrow?” Stone asked.

“What’s going to happen tomorrow?”

“Marie-Thérèse is going to find out that the money Sir Edward promised her isn’t in her bank—that’s my guess, anyway, having dealt with Sir Edward this once. And if he’s as duplicitous as I think he is, there’s going to be blood in the streets—your blood, and Sir Edward’s and Mason’s, and whoever in your service is foolish enough to stick his head out of doors.”

“You think we should all leave town, then? Run?”

“I think you should leave the planet, if you can, because you still don’t grasp how determined this woman is and what she’s capable of. You wronged her once, and you lost half a dozen people. If you’ve wronged her again . . . Well, there’ll be no end to it, until all of you are dead—her, too.”

“Felicity,” Dino said, “is the money going to be in her bank tomorrow morning?”

Carpenter looked at Dino. “Yes,” she said, tu

rning toward Stone. “I made the banking arrangements myself. Now I’m getting out of here. I’m sick of Stone’s moral superiority.”