“And perhaps kill both of us and a great many prominent people, as well,” Lee pointed out. “You’re going to have an extraordinary grouping of entertainment, business, and media folks gathered in one place, and that has to be an inviting target for them. It was suggested to me that I should cancel the event, but I decided to go ahead for many reasons, not the least of them that to cancel in the face of a mere threat would put our government in a bad light.”
“I can’t disagree, Mr. President,” Mike replied, “and I’m impressed with the way the government agencies are cooperating. Interagency rivalry has been put aside.”
“That’s something I’m trying to engender all the time,” Lee said, “and not always with success.”
Stone spoke up. “Felicity Devonshire at MI-6 has been very helpful, too.”
“Yes, I understand they’ve connected one of the names to the subway bombings in London a few years back. That’s very disturbing.”
“And that information has caused a redoubling of all our efforts,” Mike said.
“My wife and I appreciate that,” Lee said. “Has there been anything new while I was sleeping?”
“No, sir,” Mike replied.
“Then let’s rejoin the others,” Lee said. “Since it’s a special occasion, I think I’ll stand myself to a second ginger ale.”
They went back to the living room. “This is a beautiful house,” Kate Lee said to Stone.
“Thank you. Arrington worked with the architect on the design until shortly before her death,” Stone replied.
“We saw her portrait in the reception area,” Kate said. “I loved it.”
“I hadn’t seen it before today,” Stone said, “but I loved it, too. How did the intelligence summit go?” he asked, indicating Felicity and Holly.
“I wish all my intelligence were so smooth and cordial,” Kate said, and the others laughed.
A young woman wearing a Secret Service button in her lapel approached. “Mrs. Lee, you asked me to remind you when it was time to return to the residence for dinner.”
“Thank you, Agent,” Kate said. “Will,” she called across the room. “Dinnertime. I hope you haven’t had too much ginger ale.”
Lee set down his drink and joined his wife. “I’m still steady on my feet,” he said. Good-byes were exchanged, and the presidential party left.
“I hope we can all get together before this weekend is over,” the president said, as he led his party out of the house.
“Wow!” Peter exclaimed. “I can’t believe I just met the president of the United States!”
35
That night Felicity and Mike stayed for dinner, and everyone was in a good mood, in the afterglow of their brush with the president. Almost everyone turned in early, tired from their cross-country travel.
Felicity left by the front door, then, half an hour later, parted the curtains of the master suite and stepped in from the patio.
“Haven’t we met somewhere before?” Stone said.
Felicity sat down on the bed, released a silk stocking from her garter belt, and rolled it down her beautiful leg. “Yes, and you know very well that the man you call Mike Freeman and I have met before, too.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Stone replied, pushing back the covers for her. He was already in bed, naked. “Who else on your side of the pond thinks he may have met Mike before?”
“I believe myself to be the only one. Of course, I’ve done everything I can to paper over that crack in the history of my service.”
Mike Freeman, when younger and under his original name, had been a rising star in MI-6, until an episode in his private life made him a target of people who wanted to see him dead. He built an identity for himself in the United States and was brought into Strategic Services by its founder, Jim Hackett. Stone and Felicity had both been instrumental in seeing that he was not exposed.
“I’ll tell Mike that,” Stone said.
“Please don’t, I’d rather that only you and I shared the details of that episode. There are still people in high places who would feel great resentment toward us, if they knew. Let sleeping dogs snore.”
Stone laughed. “My lips are zipped.”