Dino and Viv dropped Stone off at his house, and Fred was there to handle his luggage. Stone went straight upstairs to bed and resumed his nap.
28
Stone slept through the night and woke at his usual seven o’clock. He turned on Morning Joe, then the dumbwaiter bell rang and he went to get his breakfast tray and the Times. He had finished his breakfast and started on the newspaper when his iPhone rang. “Yes, Lance?”
“Scramble.”
“Scrambled.”
“I hear that our Peter traveled with you. What do you have for me?”
“I have a recorded conversation. An interrogation, really.”
“Recorded on what?”
“My iPhone, from my jacket’s breast pocket.”
“Turn on the speaker, set it down, and play it for me. It will be recorded at this end.”
Stone did as he was instructed; while Lance listened, he read the front page of the Times.
“Not bad,” Lance said, when the recording had finished. “Why did you stop?”
“Peter stopped, then took an Ambien, I think. Shortly afterward he was unavailable.”
“We’ll check every word of it,” Lance said, then hung up.
Stone had finished the newspaper and started on the crossword when he heard Holly’s name mentioned.
“We’ve just heard that Holly Barker will hold a press briefing at ten AM from the State Department. Can this be an announcement?”
Probably not, Stone thought. He had heard nothing from her while he was gone, and Lance had not mentioned the investigation, either. He continued with the crossword, then showered, shaved, and dressed and was in his office in time to turn on CNN and watch Holly walk to the podium in the State Department auditorium, which was packed with press, cameras, and staff. She looked freshly made up and coiffed and was wearing a fashionable business suit with a skirt.
“Good morning,” she said. “I am sad to tell you that this will be my last press appearance at this venue.” A moan from her audience. “I had breakfast with the president this morning and handed her my resignation, effective at ten-thirty this morning.” She glanced at her watch. “Pretty soon. I then informed her that I would be making this announcement and accepted her good wishes.
“I will be making a further announcement in a speech at the National Press Club at one o’clock this afternoon, so I will save my political comments until that time. For now, I will only say that from that hour, I will be a candidate for the Democratic nomination for President of the United States.” That was followed by gasps of delight and applause and cheering. Holly smiled. “I can see you’re glad to see me go.”
“No, no!” they yelled.
“I am very happy to have this time to thank everyone in this building and in every foreign embassy and station for the hard work they have given their country during my time as secretary of state. You have all made me look good, and I thank you for that.
“Now I face about two and a half hours of unemployment before taking on the role of candidate. I wish it weren’t too early to drink bourbon. Maybe later.”
She strode from the podium with a wave, to sustained cheering and applause.
Stone was still breathing hard when his iPhone rang.
“Scramble,” she said.
“Scrambled. I just heard your statement,” Stone replied. “I’m thrilled for you.”
“Thank you, kind sir.”
“Where are you?”
“In a Secret Service tank, disguised as an SUV, on the way home to catch my breath before my big speech this afternoon. Secret Service protection will be seamless during the transition from office to office-seeking. I’ve gotta run.”
“Wait a minute. What about the mole investigation?”
“It’s over. Call Lance for details. I’ll be in New York soon. I’ll call you with my schedule.” She hung up.
Stone’s phone rang before he could put it down. “Yes?”
“Scramble.”
“Scrambled.”
“You were about to call me, so I thought I’d save you the trouble.”
“Thank you. Holly tells me the mole investigation is over. What did you find?”
“Absolutely nothing. Marty’s investigation says it was a red herring. Not even a whiff of anything real.”
“I guess that’s a relief, but I’d feel better if some guy were hanging by his heels in the cellar at Langley.”
“That’s always a lot of fun, but no need this time. We do have other things to discuss, though.”
“Tell me.”
“A preliminary check on what Peter told you on your pond crossing drew a blank on every single thing, up until he joined the Paris Review all those years ago. Fortunately, we had representation on that staff.”
“Wait a minute. What about his family background?”
“Absolutely zip. No Cambridge birth certificate, no parents, no Groton, no Harvard. There was a girl named Ashley Dunham, and she was Howard Dunham’s granddaughter, but the airliner she was taking back after that visit to Paris with Peter crashed shortly after takeoff from Orly, and there were no survivors.”
“Holy shit,” Stone muttered.
“Well, yes. Peter’s first passport was issued for that trip, giving his birthplace as Cambridge. Now we’re investigating the period of the Paris Review and Michelin employments and the trip to Russia. Georgi Arbatov was a real person and held the position Peter said he did, and the description of his broad contacts inside and outside the Soviet Union rings true. We’ll be trying very hard to learn exactly how Peter spent his time during his month in the USSR.”
“Let me guess: indoctrination and training.”
“Very possibly, but so far, unproven. Where is he staying in New York?”
Stone confessed his failure to find out.
“That would have been helpful,” Lance said, then hung up.
Joan was standing at his desk when Stone put down his phone. “Your mail, sir,” she said, dropping a stack of magazines and catalogs on his desk. “Did you bring a package with you from Paris?”
“Gifts for everyone are over there,” Stone said, pointing at a chair.
“Thank you sweetly, but that’s not the sort of package I was thinking of. I was thinking female.”
“I left with one, but came back without her. She jumped ship when a business opportunity raised its head.”