Foreign Affairs (9 page)

R
ick walked back to the house with Stone, and once inside he excused himself and went into the library to make phone calls. It was getting chilly, so Stone lit the fire. Finally, Rick returned and sank into an easy chair.

“What did Lance have to say?” Stone asked.

“Lance was not amused.”

“Wasn't it a police operation?”

“It was ours, with police backup.”

“Ah.”

“Lance was incensed that you invoked not only the Agency, but the president.”

“You
told
him that?”

“He listened to your recording.”

“Swell.”

“What do you think Casselli will do now?”

“Do?”

“I thought that when you decided to let loose at Casselli you might have given some thought to how he would react. Did you think he would just leave meekly and never darken your life again?”

“Frankly, I thought he would be in the Bastille by now. It's just around the corner from Lipp.”

“I don't think the gendarmes relished the thought of chasing one of their own cars through the streets of Paris with lights flashing and sirens sounding. It would have made the evening news.”

“Can't the Italian police pick him up at the other end?”

“Pick him up for what? He's not wanted in Italy, and you apparently forgot to get him to incriminate himself.”

“I got mad, I guess.”

“I especially liked the parts about the ‘tsunami' and ‘flaying of flesh off his bones.'”

“I'm glad you appreciated my performance.”

“I should have given you a script.”

“I probably wouldn't have followed it.”

“I guess not. What are you going to do now?”

“Spend a few days here, I guess, then go back to Rome.”

“Back to Rome?”

“Well, I can't abandon Marcel in the middle of all this, and Hedy needs to go back.”

“May I suggest that you persuade Marcel to run his business from Paris, and that you and Hedy get your asses back to New York?”

“And anyway, I promised Casselli a tsunami.”

“You mean that wasn't an empty threat?”

“Certainly not. We've got Bertelli on our side, and he's the key man in Italy. I'll talk to Marcel about posting a reward for Casselli's neck in a noose.”

“You think that will work?”

“Why not? Italians like money as well as everybody else, maybe more. It might shake somebody loose.”

“You might begin by getting Dino to ask Bertelli to do the things you've already told Casselli he was doing.”

“I forgot about that, heat of the moment.”

“And as long as you've mentioned the Agency and the president—you seemed to forget the FBI and the attorney general—you might give some thought to what help you can ask of them. After all, they're your ‘very close friends.'”

Stone winced. “Who else has heard the recording?”

“The gendarmes, and they were
very
impressed.”

Stone groaned.

“Don't worry, Lance has ordered me to destroy the recording.”

“Thank God for small favors.”

“It's a shame, really, my people at the station would have loved it.”

“And you would have played it for them?”

“Absolutely. I have to think of morale—I may play it for them yet.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Why not? It would make you famous inside the Agency. I'll just e-mail it and click on the ‘send all' button.”

Stone held out a hand. “Give it to me.”

“You're a civilian, you can't destroy government property, only a government official can do that.”

Stone pointed at the fire. “Then do it here, in my civilian fireplace.”

“I guess there's no regulation about that.” Rick fished a SanDisk card out of a pocket and flipped it like a coin into the fireplace, where it melted and sizzled.

“Thank you,” Stone said.

Rick got up to go. “How do you know that was the real card? We spies are a devious lot.”

“Can a civilian shoot a government official?”

“If he wants to get into a whole lot of trouble.”

“What if he doesn't care?”

“Save it for Casselli. And don't forget, you've humiliated him—he's mad now.” Rick gave Stone a little wave and left.

S
tone, Hedy, Dino, and Viv had dinner at a neighborhood restaurant, where Stone gave them a summary of his conversation with Casselli.

They listened in silence, then Dino spoke. “I guess I'd better get on the horn to Massimo Bertelli tomorrow morning and get him started doing the things you told Casselli he was already doing.”

“You think he will cooperate to that extent? Isn't he afraid of his superiors, the Mafia, or both?”

“Neither. He has a direct line to the prime minister, and where the Mafia is concerned, he has more guts than brains. He'll do anything he can to press them.”

“In that case, I'd appreciate it if you'd call him first thing in the morning.”

“What else are you going to do to create the ‘tsunami'?”

“I'm ashamed to say I don't know. I'm not about to call the president, and I don't think Lance is in a mood to spring to
my assistance after hearing the recording of my meeting with Casselli.”

“You can put your money where your mouth is.”

“You mean offering a reward for Casselli's arrest and conviction?”

“Sure. I'm sure Marcel would pick up half of it, so if you offered, say, five million and a passport for Casselli's head, you might get a nibble from somebody who knows a lot, maybe even land a fish.”

“I'll do that first thing tomorrow.”

“By the way, where are you going to get the passport?”

“Can you ask Bertelli to back us up on that?”

“Sure. I think he'll help.”

Stone paid the bill, and they walked home. No sooner had they entered the house, when his cell phone rang, from a blocked number. “Hello?”

“It's Holly. How are you?” Holly Barker was an old and good friend and sometime lover who had formerly run the CIA New York station and now was national security adviser to the president.

“Okay, I guess.”

“How's Paris?”

“How'd you know I'm in Paris?”

“I saw your video with Casselli at Lipp, and I loved it!”

“
Video!
I thought it was only audio.”

“Nope, and with three cameras, too. They cut it like a movie: a two-shot, then close-ups of both of you when you spoke.”

“Oh, shit, Rick threw a SanDisk into my fireplace when he was here, and I thought that was it.”

“Never trust anything a spy does.”

“Never again. Please tell me this hasn't reached the president.”

“It hasn't from me, but I'm sure by morning somebody in the Agency e-mail loop will have forwarded it to her. You might devote some time, though, to hoping it doesn't get leaked to some reporter.”

Stone sighed. “I'm in very deep shit here. I ignored Rick's instructions and got the bit in my teeth. I'm never going to live this down.”

“You will, if it helps you get Casselli. What are you doing about that?”

“Looking for ideas.”

“You might ask President Kate to call the Italian prime minister and ask him to exert some downward pressure on Casselli through not just the DIA but all the other Italian police departments, of which there are many.”

“I can't ask Kate to do that.”

“You want me to ask her? I'm happy to do it. The worst she can say is no, and she might not say that.”

“No, I'm too embarrassed at having used her as leverage, especially when I didn't have it.”

“Whatever you say. I gotta run now. Call me if I can help in any way.”

“Thanks, Holly, I really appreciate that, and if I get an idea, I'll call.” They said goodbye and hung up.

“That was Holly,” he said to Dino. “Turns out my audio had video attached.”

“Sheesh!” Dino said, laughing. “You just get in deeper and deeper, don't you?”

“Tell me about it.”

Stone's phone rang again. “Hello?”

“This is the White House operator. I have the president for you. Can you speak to her?”

Stone's heart sank. “Yes, thank you.” He covered the phone and said, “It's Kate.”

Dino burst out laughing.

“Hello, Stone?”

“Yes, Madam President?”

“I just
loved
your video.”

Stone's heart leaped. “I didn't even know it was a video, until Holly called.”

“That's right, she would already have seen it.”

That meant that Holly hadn't spoken to Kate. He was relieved about that.

“How can I help?” Kate asked.

“Madam President, I am so sorry to have brought you into this. I—”

“Nonsense. You've done me so many favors, and I've done you so few. Please tell me how I can help.”

“Well, we're getting good cooperation from Massimo Bertelli, who's head of the Italian DIA, but if you could call the prime minister, there's a whole array of Italian police
departments that could be brought to bear, if he's serious about fighting the Mafia.”

“What a good idea! What time is it over there?”

“It's a little after ten.”

“I'll schedule a call to the PM for first thing tomorrow. Anything else?”

“If you could find a way to let Lance know that you're not angry with me, he might speak to me again someday.”

“Done. I'll call him right now.”

“Thank you so much for your help.”

“What are friends for? See you.” She hung up.

“What did she say?” Dino asked.

“She's going to call the PM in the morning. I may have a life again.”

“So you're out of the shit.”

“Maybe.”

“You've got more than nine lives, pal.”

“Friends are better than nine lives.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

“You certainly may.”

—

L
ance Cabot had fallen asleep with a mission report lying open on his chest when the phone rang. “Yes?”

“This is the White House operator. Can you speak with the president?”

This was going to be about the Stone Barrington thing, he knew it. “Of course.”

“Hello, Lance?”

“Yes, Madam President?”

“Have you seen the video of Stone Barrington and the Italian mafioso Casselli?”

“Yes, ma'am, and I'd like to explain about that.”

“Isn't it wonderful!”

Lance sucked in a breath and searched for words. “Stone is full of surprises, isn't he?” That avoided both criticism and endorsement.

“He really tore into him, didn't he? I talked with Stone a few minutes ago, and he needs our help. I'm going to call the Italian prime minister tomorrow morning and ask him to put his entire police force on Mafia alert and to make every effort to support Massimo Bertelli at the DIA.”

“That's a wonderful idea, Madam President.”

“It occurs to me that there must be things your people in Italy can do to support the effort and to help get the Mafia off Stone's and Marcel's backs. I've heard all about what's going on with their plans for a hotel in Rome.”

“Well, the Mafia don't always come under our brief, Madam President.”

“You didn't have any scruples about going after the Russian Mob in Paris last year, and I've never seen that in your brief. Would you like me to issue a presidential finding that would cover your ass?”

“Oh, madam, I don't think that would be necessary.” He thought for a slim instant. “But if you have a moment to dictate something, it would be very helpful.”

“I'll get it to you tomorrow, Lance. Now, you pull out all the stops, you hear?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Good night, then.”

“Good night, ma'am.” He hung up the phone and found himself panting. Stone Barrington was going to be the death of him yet.

A
fter rising the following morning Stone was in the library making notes for his call to Marcel when Dino came in with a bag of croissants and the
International New York Times
, formerly the
International Herald Tribune.

“We've got some rethinking to do,” Dino said, tossing the newspaper into his lap.

Stone put down his pad and picked up the paper. A large headline occupied the upper right-hand corner of the front page:

TOP ITALIAN MAFIA COP ASSASSINATED IN ROME

“It happened when he was driving home from work last night,” Dino said. “He left the ministry with a driver in an armored Lancia. They were in rush hour traffic at a standstill,
when a motorcycle pulled up beside them, and the guy on the backseat shoved a bomb under Massimo's car. Apparently, the car wasn't equipped to handle that. It blew about six feet into the air and broke in half. Massimo and his driver were both killed instantly.” He picked up the remote control and turned on the TV. In a moment he had found the BBC News channel, and they watched the footage from a security camera in the street as it played and replayed the explosion.

They listened to the report for a few minutes, then the news reader heard something in her earpiece, and she was handed a sheet of paper. “This just in,” she said. “Two top Italian Mafia leaders have this morning been gunned down almost simultaneously: one in Naples and one in Rome, the Italian DIA is reporting. Their names have not yet been released.” She moved on to another story, and Dino switched off the TV.

“That's bad about Massimo,” Stone said. “My condolences.”

“He was a tough guy. I'm sorry they got to him before he got to them.”

“Do you have any idea who his successor will be?”

“I'm hoping it will be his deputy, Dante Fiore. He's a good guy, too, and tough. What do you think about the two mafiosi who got it this morning?”

“What do you think?”

“I think Casselli has headed us off at the pass: he's knocked off his chief government pursuer, the guy that you threatened him with, and he's identified a couple of his cohorts that he thought might go for your reward, while sending a message to
his other minions that defections will not be tolerated. The guy is some tactician.”

Stone's phone rang. “Hello?”

“It's Holly. I suppose you've heard the news about Signor Bertelli's assassination?”

“Yes, I have. Dino and I just watched the explosion on the BBC. And did you hear that two top mafiosi were knocked off this morning?”

“Yeah. What does that mean?”

“We think it's a reaction by Casselli to my threat to post a reward on his head. Now he's eliminated the people he thought might be vulnerable to the reward and sent all his other people a message. He's smarter than I thought.”

“Yeah, he must be. I just talked to President Kate, and she told me about your conversation last night. She did that on her own, not at my suggestion. She also called Lance and lit a fire under him, so you'll find the Italian station helpful, I expect.”

“Could you get her a message from me before she makes the call to Italy?”

“Sure.”

“Tell her that Dino, who knows the setup at the DIA, thinks Bertelli's deputy, Dante Fiore, is the man to replace him. He has a very high opinion of the guy.”

“That's a good call,” Holly said, “and she'll appreciate Dino's recommendation. She met both men when we were in Italy last year. I'm sure she'll be glad to mention Fiore to the PM.”

“Thank her for me, will you?”

“Sure. Talk to you later.” Holly hung up.

“Dino,” Stone said, “why don't you see if you can get through to Dante Fiore and give him our condolences? Maybe we can get some fresh intel from him.”

Dino sat down next to him, looked up a number in his iPhone, pressed the speaker button, and waited. “This is his direct line,” he said.

“Pronto,”
a vigorous voice said.

“Dante, it's Dino Bacchetti.”

“Hello, Dino! Good to hear from you.”

“I'm with my friend Stone Barrington, who Massimo may have told you about. We've just heard the news about Massimo, and we wanted to express our condolences.”

“Thank you, Dino, that's very kind. I've been working this all night, and we're sure it's Casselli, though we can't yet prove it. My thanks to you, too, Stone. I'm aware of your problems with Casselli and your hotel project, and I want you to know we'll continue to watch over it.”

“Thank you, Dante.”

“By the way, I saw your video with Casselli early this morning, and I enjoyed it very much, seeing him squirm like that. You know about the two mafiosi in Naples and Rome who got hit this morning?”

“We just saw it on the BBC.”

“We here think that's a result of your threat about the reward on your video, but even if nobody takes the reward, we've got two top guys out of the way, and that's a win for us. It doesn't
replace Massimo, but it's a win, and we'll take all those we can get.”

“Dante,” Dino said, “I want you to know that Stone spoke to President Kate Lee last night. She's calling your PM along about now, and he sent her a message this morning, mentioning your name.”

“That's very good of you, Stone. I'm not sure I dare hope for the job, but I'd love to do it. Hang on a minute.” They could hear some muffled conversation, then Dante came back. “I've just had a message to see the PM in half an hour. I'll call you back, if there's anything new.” They gave him Stone's number and let him go.

“Maybe you did some good this morning,” Dino said. “And maybe you're digging your way out of the shit.”

“God, I hope so, I thought I had blown the whole thing to bits.”

“Just Massimo and the two hoods, and my guess is that Casselli already had plans to hit Massimo. It didn't seem like an improvised attack.”

Stone's phone rang again, and he reached out and pushed the speaker button. “Hello?”

“Stone, it's Lance.”

“Good morning, Lance, you're up early.”

“I didn't get much sleep last night. I've been on the phone with the Rome station, making preparations for your
return.”