“Are you planning something?”
“I’m planning to react, if I get the opportunity. I don’t know if I will.”
“Well, you’re safe here with me,” the director said, pouring himself another Scotch.
“Thank you, sir, that’s very reassuring.”
“How well did you know Sir Edward?”
“I’ve known him all my life. He and my father served together.”
“Then I suppose my personal condolences are in order.”
“Not really, sir. Sir Edward was a shit, and I won’t miss him.”
Stone and Dino stood outside the door of Suite 1917.
“Ready?” Dino asked.
“Whenever you are,” Stone replied, gripping the gun in his pocket.
Dino rang the bell. No answer. He rang it again. “What the hell,” he said, slipping the passkey into the lock.
54
Stone followed Dino into the suite, gun in hand.
“Hello?” Dino called. “Hotel maintenance. Anybody home?” He walked quickly to the bedroom door, flattened himself against the wall, and nodded to Stone.
Stone pushed the door open with his foot and stepped tentatively into the room. “Hotel maintenance. Anybody there?”
Dino put a foot against his backside and pushed him into the bedroom.
“Just like old times,” Stone said. “First through the door again.”
“You have a lousy memory,” Dino said, following him into the room.
They looked around. Everything seemed perfectly normal.
“Check the closet,” Dino said.
“You think she’s in there? You check it.”
Dino opened the closet door, and the light came on. Inside hung half a dozen outfits. “She travels pretty light, for a woman.”
Stone pointed at the upper shelf, where three wigs rested on plastic forms. “Not every woman travels with that much hair.”
“Okay,” Dino said, “let’s turn it over, but leave everything exactly as it is.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Evidence. I’d love to find the weapon she’s been using.”
“It’s probably tucked into her bra.”
“I’m willing to look there.”
They went to work.