“What did you think of Jimmy?” Susie asked.

“Seems like an interesting guy.”

“You think you two could do some business?”

“I think he has something in mind. I’ll let you know after lunch tomorrow.”

Gene Ryan went home to Brooklyn and put his car in the garage, since Barrington already knew what that looked like. He went upstairs and changed into jeans and a black leather jacket over his shoulder holster, then went back to the garage and pulled the tarp off a Honda 350 that he had owned since almost new. He backed it out of the garage, closed the door, connected the battery, put on his helmet, and started the machine. He let it run for a minute to get the oil circulated, then hopped on and drove back to Manhattan. It was late in the day now, getting dark.

Barrington’s street in Turtle Bay was like always—quiet and elegant. He parked between two cars a couple of doors up the block from the house, unsnapped his helmet, and settled down to wait.

—

Stone and Ian were having a drink in Stone’s study. “I’ve been invited to dinner at our ambassador’s residence tonight,” Ian said. “Introductions will be made, and I will be inspected for suitability.”

“Sounds boring,” Stone said.

“It will be.”

“I’d better send you over there in my car. Fred will drive you.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

Stone buzzed Fred and asked him to meet Ian in the garage. “I don’t want Felicity to berate me for putting you in a cab. I’d never hear the end of it if something happened to you.”

Ian laughed. “I know what that’s like.” He looked at his watch: “I’d better be going.”

“Fred is waiting for you in the garage. See you later.”

Ian went to the garage, where Fred was holding the door for him. Fred got behind the wheel, started the car, opened the garage door, and backed out.

Ian rolled down the rear window halfway. “Sorry, stuffy in here.”

—

Gene saw the Bentley backing out. He got the bike started and pulled out of his parking place, then fell in behind the car. He could see Barrington’s head in the right rear seat, so he pulled around to that side, slowed, and reached inside his jacket for the .45, then he braked sharply to a stop, raised the weapon, and fired three shots into the darkened backseat. Quickly, he stuffed the gun into his holster and accelerated down the narrow lane between the traffic and parked cars. He had to slow to get past a delivery truck, and as he did, something slapped at his left shoulder, simultaneously with a loud noise from behind. He threw caution to the wind, accelerated past the truck, and turned into the Second Avenue traffic. He could feel blood running down his back.

Fred Flicker had time to get off only one shot before the motorcycle disappeared around the corner. He opened the back door. “Major Rattle?”

His passenger was sitting up, holding the back of his neck with one hand. “Three shots,” he said. “Only one got me, I think.”

“Hang on, sir, we’re getting you to a hospital.” Fred got back behind the wheel and moved with the traffic. He pressed the hands-free button on the steering wheel. “Dial Stone Barrington,” he said, and the phone began to ring.

“Hello?” Stone said.

“Mr. Barrington, it’s Fred. A motorcyclist just got off three rounds into the backseat, and at least one struck the major.”

“Didn’t the glass stop it?”

“The major had rolled down the window. I’m headed to the New York Hospital ER. Will you phone the police, sir?”

“Of course, and I’ll be right over there.”

—

Stone called Dino and found him still at his desk. “Dino, Stone. There’s been an attempt on Ian Rattle’s life. He’s in my car. Somebody on a motorcycle fired three rounds into the backseat. Ian was hit at least once, and Fred is driving him to the ER at New York Hospital.”

“I’ll have somebody there in five minutes,” Dino said, then hung up.

Stone ran out into the street and got lucky with a cab. He was at the ER in ten minutes, and an unmarked police car pulled in at the same time. “Hey!” he called to the cops. “The victim is my houseguest.”

“Are you Barrington?”

“Yes.”

“Follow us.”

The detectives blew past the nurse on guard, flashing badges. One of them jerked a thumb at Stone. “He’s with us.” Then he stopped and called back to her, “You have a patient name Rattle, gunshot wound. Where is he?”

“Treatment room three—that way,” she said, pointing.

A nurse came out the door of room three and held up both hands. “He’s alive, nothing you can do here. Sit down over there.” She pointed at some chairs in the hallway, and they all sat down. Fred had followed them in, and Stone introduced him to the detectives.

Fred told his story. “I’m certain I hit the man,” he said. “I saw him twitch, and the motorcycle wobbled.”

“What color was the bike?”

“Black. The license plate was too small to read.”

“What was he wearing?”

“Black everything, including gloves. I couldn’t even tell you what race he was. He’s bleeding, though, I can promise you that.”

“You got a carry license, Fred?”

Fred produced it.

“Okay, you’re good. We can reach you at Mr. Barrington’s?”

Fred gave them a card. “My cell number.”

Stone called Felicity Devonshire.

“Yes?”

“I sent Ian to you in my car, and there was an assassination attempt. He’s in the New York Hospital ER, and he’s alive, that’s all I know.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” she said, and hung up.

—

Dino arrived first, twenty minutes later. “Any news?”

“He’s alive and being worked on,” Stone said.

Dino sat down beside him. “I thought your car was bulletproof.”

“Ian opened a window.”

“Shit.”

“Felicity will be here shortly. I’ll handle her.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Dino said.

A nurse hurried toward them. “There’s a woman in the waiting room looking for Barrington?”

“That’s me, please let her in.”

Felicity bustled down the hall, looking smashing in a black cocktail dress.

Stone sat her down and briefed her. The doctor emerged from the treatment room. “Jesus,” he said, seeing the crowd. “Who do I talk to?”

“To me,” Dino said, flashing a badge.

“It’s the commissioner, isn’t it?”

“Right. Talk to me.”

“He’s alive and stable. The round cut across the back of his neck, he’s lost some blood, but he’ll make a complete recovery. Right now we’re taking him up to surgery to do a more permanent repair.”

A bed pushed by two nurses came out the door and rolled down the hallway, followed by Stone and the crowd. Ian was sitting up, a roll of gauze behind his neck. He gave a little wave. Somebody came and showed the group to a more comfortable waiting room.

“Well,” Felicity said, “there goes the UN opportunity. I’ll have to think of somewhere else to hide him.”

“I’m sorry, Felicity,” Stone said. “I thought he would be safe in my car.”

“I’ll station a couple of uniforms outside his room, as soon as he gets out of recovery,” Dino said. He came and sat by Stone. “Why do you think Major Rattle was the intended victim?” he asked quietly.

Stone opened his mouth to speak, then stopped.

“Yeah, me too,” Dino said. “You’re not through watching your ass.”