Veronica stared across the room. “Holy shit,” she said softly. “What do we do?”
“First of all, stop staring at them. Look anywhere else in the room but there.”
“Okay, now what?”
“Tell me what you’d like for dinner.”
“A steak and a Caesar salad,” she replied.
The headwaiter materialized at their table and inquired if they’d like to order.
“Two Caesar salads, two strip steaks, medium rare,” Gino responded.
“Would you like any vegetables?”
“Onion rings and green beans,” Gino said.
The man handed him a wine list. “I’ll be back in a moment to take your wine order.” He vanished.
“Are you looking at them?” Gino asked.
“I’m trying not to,” Veronica replied.
“Look for other interesting faces in the room—imagine who they might be.”
The headwaiter returned. “Have you chosen a wine, sir?”
Gino glanced at the wine list at the high end of the price range. “A bottle of the Opus One,” he replied.
“An excellent choice. May I decant it for you?”
Gino looked at him blankly.
“The wine is twenty years old; it’s likely to have some sediment at the bottom.”
“Yes, do that, thanks.”
“I see an actor I recognize,” Veronica said, “but I can’t think of his name.”
“Good, keep checking him out until the name comes to you.”
The headwaiter returned with a bottle of wine in a basket, a candle, and a corkscrew. He uncorked the wine, sniffed the cork and handed it to Gino, who aped him.
The headwaiter held the bottle with the candle under it and carefully poured the wine into a decanter. “There,” he said, and poured some for Gino to taste.
Gino tasted it. “Yeah, okay.”
The man poured two glasses. “I’ll be back shortly to make your salads,” he said, then went away.
Gino got out his cell phone, Googled the Lombardy Hotel, and rang the number. “Joseph Cross,” he said to the operator.
“Hello?”
“You’re in—good.”
“About ten minutes ago,” he said. “We’re about to go out for dinner.”
“Write this down—Patroon, 160 East Forty-sixth Street. Call them and make a reservation, then get here as soon as possible. I’ll call you after you’re seated.”
“Right,” Joe said, then hung up. “We’ve got a restaurant recommendation from Gino,” he said to Jane.
18
The headwaiter returned with a small cart, with a bowl and several ingredients on top. Gino and Veronica watched as he expertly mixed egg yolks, crushed garlic, oil, a little vinegar, anchovies, Parmesan cheese, and a teaspoon of mustard. When the mixture was smooth he poured the dressing over torn leaves of romaine lettuce, sprinkled croutons on top, and served them.
“Great,” Gino said, tasting a bite. Veronica approved as well. “Here we go,” Gino whispered, looking up at the entrance.
Dirty Joe and Jungle Jane appeared at the dining room door, nicely dressed, and they were seated at a table to Gino’s right and ordered drinks.
Gino tapped in Joe’s number, and Joe picked it up.
“Yes?”
“You’re sitting on the south wall,” Gino said. “We’re on the west wall. On the east wall there is a table with four people, sitting under some photographs. Got it?”
“I think so.”
“The blonde is who you came to town to see.”
“Got her,” Jo replied.
“Now stop looking at her. They’re already on their main course, so you don’t order a starter. Eat something before they finish dinner, then go outside and wait until they come out. Follow them and find out where she’s staying.”
“Gotcha. We don’t have our tools yet.”
“Don’t do anything, just follow her. When she’s safely inside you can go anywhere you like. Be at my place at ten tomorrow morning.”
“Gotcha.” Joe hung up.
“So that’s Dirty Joe?” Veronica asked.
“And his girl, Jungle Jane, the cleaned-up versions. We’re not going to have to hunt down Meg—Joe will take care of that. Tomorrow, after he’s armed, he can take care of her.”
“Gino, you are so smart.”
“Sometimes it’s better just to be lucky. Tonight we got lucky.”
* * *
—
STONE AND HIS PARTY finished their dessert, paid the bill, and left the restaurant.
* * *
—
JOE AND JANE sat in a taxi, the motor running, and watched as the two couples got into a large black SUV. “Driver,” Joe said, “follow that car.”
“Jesus,” the driver said.
“What’s wrong?”
“That’s a cop car,” he said, “and it’s got the police commissioner’s license plates. You want me to follow him?”
“Exactly. You can hang well back, I just want to see where the car goes.”
They followed the SUV down to First Avenue, took a left on East Forty-ninth Street. The big vehicle continued across Second Avenue and stopped on the right, in the middle of the block.
The cabbie stopped, too, well back. “Well?” he asked.
“We’ll get out here,” Joe said, handing the man a twenty. “Keep the change.” They got out of the car and walked slowly up the opposite side of the street as the occupants of the vehicle dismounted and went inside a town house. As Joe and Jane passed, he made a mental note of the house number. “Got ’em,” he said. “This is going to be easier than I had thought.”
* * *
—
STONE TOOK his guests into his study, and Fred brought them espressos, while they sipped cognac or Grand Marnier.
Dino’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the caller’s number before answering. “What?” he said, then listened for a moment. “Are they still in sight? Okay, don’t worry about it.” He hung up.
“What was that?” Stone asked.
“A cab followed us from the restaurant, and two people, a man and a woman, got out of it down the street and walked past your house. The guy appeared to write down your house number, then they walked up to Second Avenue and got another cab.”
“Let me get this straight,” Stone said. “They got out of a cab down my block, then walked another block and got into another cab?”
“Right, and the guy wrote down your house number. My driver is an on-the-ball cop. I do not like this. Do you like it?”
“I do not like it,” Stone said.
“Wait a minute,” Meg said, “is this about me?”
“Could be,” Dino said. “I don’t think this one is about Stone.”
“There’s something I didn’t want to tell you while we were in the restaurant,” Meg said.
“All right,” Stone replied, “shoot.”
“While we were having dinner, Gino and Veronica Bellini came into the place and were seated across the room from us, on the opposite wall.”
“Why didn’t you speak up?” Stone asked. “I’d have liked a look at the guy.”
“Because I didn’t want Gino to know I’d spotted him. Gino made a phone call, and a few minutes later a couple came into the restaurant and were seated to my left, a few tables away. Gino made another call, and the man of the couple answered, then both he and the woman took a good look at me, but only once. They ate something, but left before we did.”
“Describe the couple,” Stone said.
“The man was tall—maybe six-three or six-four—and thin, with thick, curly, salt-and-pepper hair, not recently cut. The woman was, maybe, five-eight and curvaceous, and here’s the thing—they were both deeply tanned.”
Dino spoke up. “You’re describing the people in the boat who shot at you.”
“I am?” Meg replied.
“I hope you’re both wrong,” Stone said.
“I saw them in the boat, too, and neither of us is wrong,” Dino replied.
“And they were waiting outside in a cab when we left the restaurant, and followed us.”
“Right,” Dino said, “and as soon as they had your address, they got into another cab and drove away.”
“This is disturbing,” Viv said. She had not spoken until now. “I think we’re going to need someone in the house, to answer the door if anyone calls.”
“Good idea,” Dino said.
“I think so, too,” Meg replied.
Stone spoke up. “I have a better idea.”
“Let’s hear it,” Dino said.
“I think we should get out of here early tomorrow morning and leave Dino’s people to pick up this couple, if they drop by again.”