“Would that include you yourself?” Lance asked.
“I am Canadian by birth but I have been a U.S. citizen for eight years now, and I have never applied for a security clearance.”
“Would you object to being vetted for such a clearance?”
“Not at all.”
Lance reached for his briefcase beside his chair, opened it, and produced a form and handed it to Mike. “Would you kindly complete this form?”
“Of course,” Freeman said, taking the form and glancing at it. “How soon do you need it?”
“Now would be a good time,” Lance replied.
Freeman took a pen from his pocket and a magazine from the coffee table for support and began filling out the form.
“Well, Stone,” Lance said, “what have you been up to?”
“Work, work, work,” Stone replied. “Not much else.”
“Anything you can talk about?”
“I’m afraid not,” Stone said. “Client confidentiality, of course.”
“Of course. I understand you’ve recently become type-rated in the Cessna Citation Mustang.”
Stone was surprised he knew. “Yes, I have. Jim Hackett arranged to have me trained in the airplane.”
“Good skill to have,” Lance said
.
“A pleasant one.” He looked over at Mike to see how he was doing on the form. He appeared to be on the last page.
Freeman picked up a phone and buzzed his secretary. “Would you come in, please?”
The woman entered the room, and Mike handed her the document. “Would you fill in the relevant spaces on past employment and residences, please? It’s all in my curriculum vitae in our files.”
“Of course,” she replied, and left with the document.
Stone began to wonder if Mike’s background could stand a background check. Freeman was not who he said he was, and Stone was, perhaps, the only living person who knew that. Freeman was, in fact, British and a former member of MI6, from which he had been forced as part of a witch hunt against him some years ago. Jim Hackett had been killed because Mike’s enemies in the British government believed him to be the man they were hunting, when Mike Freeman was, in fact, that man.
“What brings you to New York, Lance, apart from visiting us?” Freeman asked.
“Nothing else,” Lance replied. “I had, in fact, intended to speak to James Hackett, but of course, his death intervened. Do you know who killed him?”
“We’re still working on that,” Freeman replied.
“Stone, how about you? You were with Hackett when he died, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m unable to speak about it,” Stone replied. He did not want to tell Lance why not.
“Mmmmm,” Lance purred. “Client confidentiality?”
“Yes,” Stone replied, hoping his curiosity would stop there.
“You did some work for Felicity Devonshire at MI6 not very long ago, didn’t you?”
“If I had, I certainly couldn’t comment, could I?”