“Move from where?” Stone asked.
“Your room.”
“You’re staying in my room?”
“You weren’t using it,” she said. “Or we could stay, and you and Dino could share a room.”
“That’s a hard no from me,” Dino said.
“Me, too,” Stone agreed.
“Fine,” Carly said. “We’ll figure it out.”
“I think I need a drink,” Stone said.
“You read my mind,” Dino said.
“Felicity?”
“Why not?” she said.
They walked over to the bar, where Stone poured Felicityand Dino glasses of Johnnie Walker Blue Label and a Knob Creek for himself.
After they’d taken sips, Dino asked Felicity, “How goes the search for your killer?”
“Very good. Thanks to Stone’s help in identifying our mole, we have a name now.”
“That’s great news,” Stone said. “Anyone we know?”
“As a matter of fact, he is.”
Stone furrowed his brow, surprised. “Really? Who?”
“Leonid Bronsky.”
“Never heard of him,” Dino said.
“The name sounds familiar,” Stone said, cocking his head. “Isn’t he the head of Russian intelligence in London?”
“Formerhead. He was demoted, thanks to the two of us.”
“If I’d known that, I would have sent him a condolence card.”
“I doubt it would have been received well.”
“So, Russian intelligence decided to send him after you again?”
“Actually, the SVR denies any involvement in his actions.”
“Did you expect them to admit it?” Dino asked.
“Of course not, but I believe them this time. Russia is dealing with enough issues already. Killing the head of MI6 would do them no favors.”
“That means Bronsky’s acting on his own?” Stone said.
“Hell hath no fury like an intelligence officer burned,” Felicity said. “Word is, he thinks my death is his ticket back into the SVR’s good graces.”
“Is he right?”
