Stone relaxed a little; he wasn’t being abducted again. “Where is the ambassador’s residence?”
“In Regents Park, sir; do you know it?”
“No, this is my first trip to London in many years, and I never got to Regents Park the first time.”
“It’s about a twenty-five-minute drive this time of day, sir.”
“You’re English?”
“Welsh, sir; the embassy employs quite a lot of locals. Cheaper than bringing over Yanks, I expect.”
“I’m afraid I don’t even know the ambassador’s name.”
“It’s Sumner Wellington, sir; I’m told the name went down rather well with the Queen.”
“Oh, yes, of course; he owns a big communications company,” Stone said.
“That’s correct, sir; it’s said that American presidents always appoint very rich men to the Court of St. James, because they can afford to do all the necessary entertaining out of their own pockets. Ambassador Wellington has paid for a complete renovation of the residence, as well.”
“Sounds like an expensive job.”
“I expect so, sir.”
“But Ambassador Wellington can afford it.”
“Quite so, sir. You said you were in London once before?”
“Yes, as a student; I did a hitchhiking tour of Europe one summer, and I spent a week of it in London.”
“I expect your accommodations this time are somewhat better than on your last trip.”
“Oh, yes. I spent most nights at a youth hostel, and, on one occasion, I got back after curfew and was locked out, so I slept under a railway arch somewhere.”
“So the Connaught is a big step upwards.”
“You could say that.” The man was awfully chatty for a Brit, Stone thought, especially for a chauffeur. “Are you the ambassador’s regular driver?”
“No, sir, I’m just a staff driver; I’ve driven the ambassador on a few occasions, when his regular driver wasn’t available.”
“Do you like him?”
“Yes, sir, I do; I find self-made Americans are much nicer to staff than the upper-class British. Oh, we’re in Regents Park, now.”
They were driving along a wide crescent of identical buildings, with the park on their left. After a turn or two, the car glided to a stop before the residence, a very large Georgian house.
A U.S. marine opened the rear door of the car.
“Mr. Barrington?” the driver said.
Stone stopped getting
out of the car.
“I was asked to give you a message.”
“Yes?”
“If you recognize someone, be careful.”