“Yeah?” he said.
“Hi, Ricky. It’s Stefan Howard. I was wondering if you have an update.”
“It’s done.”
“Seriously?” Howard sounded surprised.
“If I say it’s done, it’s done.”
“How did it go?”
“It’s my understanding Mr. Weston will be staying in the hospital for a day or two at least.”
“That’s fantastic! And the message?”
“Delivered.”
“Sweet. Thanks, man. Five stars. I’ll call you again if I need anything else. You take care, buddy.”
The line went dead.
Chapter 4
The following Monday morning, Stonewas in his office reviewing documents when his secretary, Joan, buzzed him on the intercom.
“Call for you on line one,” she said.
“I could have sworn I said something about not wanting to be disturbed.”
“You did. I’m choosing to ignore you.”
“Tell whoever it is that I’m tied up.”
“Tell her yourself.”
“Who is it?”
“Dame Felicity.”
“Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“Didn’t I? Oops.” She hung up.
Stone punched line one. “Felicity. What a pleasant way to start my week.”
“My, aren’t you the charmer today.”
“With you, always.”
Dame Felicity Devonshire was the head of MI6, the British equivalent of the CIA, and a longtime friend of Stone’s. They were also neighbors, both having adjacent country houses in the English countryside, south of London.
“I’m calling because I’m hoping to entice you to pop over for the weekend.”
“Thisweekend?”
“I know it’s short notice, but I’m throwing a party on Saturday, and I want to make sure there’s at least one interesting person there.”
“Other than yourself, of course.”
