“No.”
“Ali Hussein?”
“Pardon?”
“Ali Hussein?”
“Never heard of him.”
“Sheherezad Al-Salaam, also known as Sheila.”
“Nor her.”
“Sarah Buckminster?”
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
“I knew her when she lived in New York; we renewed our acquaintance after I arrived in London. Don’t you read the papers?”
“Monica Burroughs?”
“The sister of Erica. Art dealer. Spent part of one weekend in her company.”
“John Bartholomew?”
“No.”
“John Bartholomew?”
“I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Mr. Barrington, don’t try my patience.”
Stone said nothing. The man made a small movement with one hand, and Stone heard a buzzer ring in another room. A moment later, the door opened and the two thugs entered.
“John Bartholomew?” the smooth voice asked.
“Yes.”
“Tell us.”
“Mr. Bartholomew visited me in New York and asked me to come to London to persuade his niece to return with me to the United States.”
“What is the name of his niece?”
“Erica Burroughs.”
“And why did he want her returned to America?”
“He said he was concerned that her boyfriend might involve her in illegal activities.”
“What sort of activities?”
“Drug smuggling.”
Stone heard a low laugh. “What is the real name of John Bartholomew?”