you along. Meet me at the East Side Heliport at seven-thirty.”
Stone hesitated for only a moment. “I’ll be there,” he said.
Holly hung up and dialed the direct line to the London station chief’s office.
“Yes?” A woman’s voice.
“This is Assistant Director Holly Barker. Who is this?”
“I’m Ann Tinney, Tom Riley’s assistant.”
“I was very sorry to hear of Tom’s death,” Holly said.
“Thank you, Ms. Barker.”
“Since Ed Marvin is in the hospital, and Lance Cabot is at a conference in Hawaii, the director has asked me to act as station chief until the situation is stabilized.”
“I understand. When will you arrive?”
“Tomorrow morning. Please have key staff standing by for a meeting. I’ll want an update on the casualty list and the damage, and then I’ll want individual briefings from each desk chief.”
“Of course.”
“I’m at the New York station now, but I’ll leave here in two hours. You can reach me on the airplane through the switchboard at Langley, if there’s anything further to report.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you, Ann. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Holly hung up and logged into the Agency’s mainframe computer from the station at her desk. She entered her password, then went into the personnel database and called up the list of London’s station key staff and began reading their files. Twice during the next two hours Ann Tinney called from London and gave her updates. It was getting worse.
—
Holly and Stone had dinner on the Gulfstream G-450, and she managed to get a few hours of sleep before the flight attendant woke her in time to shower and change before landing.
When she was back in her seat, the flight attendant came back to brief her. “There’s fog in London,” she said, “but the pilot says the ceiling is eight hundred feet, so we shouldn’t have a problem landing. The approach is steeper than at most airports and the runway shorter, so be prepared for that. An embassy car will be waiting on the ramp for you.” She went back to the front of the airplane and buckled in.
“Excuse me,” Stone said, rising from his seat. “I want to watch this approach from the jump seat.” He went forward.
Holly could see nothing but gray outside the windows. As the flight attendant had warned, the approach was steep, and they broke out of the clouds in time to get a good look at the Thames. On touchdown, the reverse thrusters came on, and the pilot braked hard. A moment later they were turning off the runway and onto a ramp.
Stone came out of the cockpit grinning. “That was exciting,” he said.
The attendant opened the door, and they descended to the ramp, where a car was waiting that looked much like the presidential limousine.
“They’ve sent the ambassador’s car,” Holly said, when they were inside. “This is embarrassing.” The door shut with a soft clunk, and they could barely hear the sound of an aircraft taking off from the runway.
“I could get used to this,” Stone said, stretching his legs.
“I can’t believe they sent this car,” Holly said.
“In the circumstances,” Stone said, “I think they wanted you transported in something bombproof.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
She dropped off Stone and her luggage at the Connaught, then the car continued the short distance to the embassy. She was met by two Marine guards at a side entrance on Upper Brook Street, and whisked to the top floor.
“The ambassador wants to see you,” one of the guards said as the elevator stopped. A moment later she was in a large office being greeted by a gray-haired, well-tailored gentleman.
“Ms. Barker,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Ambassador Walters. I just wanted to say hello before you go down to the Agency floor, and extend my condolences for the death of Tom Riley. He was a good man, and I relied on him completely.”
“Thank you, Ambassador,” Holly replied. “I’m grateful for your
Stone hesitated for only a moment. “I’ll be there,” he said.
Holly hung up and dialed the direct line to the London station chief’s office.
“Yes?” A woman’s voice.
“This is Assistant Director Holly Barker. Who is this?”
“I’m Ann Tinney, Tom Riley’s assistant.”
“I was very sorry to hear of Tom’s death,” Holly said.
“Thank you, Ms. Barker.”
“Since Ed Marvin is in the hospital, and Lance Cabot is at a conference in Hawaii, the director has asked me to act as station chief until the situation is stabilized.”
“I understand. When will you arrive?”
“Tomorrow morning. Please have key staff standing by for a meeting. I’ll want an update on the casualty list and the damage, and then I’ll want individual briefings from each desk chief.”
“Of course.”
“I’m at the New York station now, but I’ll leave here in two hours. You can reach me on the airplane through the switchboard at Langley, if there’s anything further to report.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you, Ann. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Holly hung up and logged into the Agency’s mainframe computer from the station at her desk. She entered her password, then went into the personnel database and called up the list of London’s station key staff and began reading their files. Twice during the next two hours Ann Tinney called from London and gave her updates. It was getting worse.
—
Holly and Stone had dinner on the Gulfstream G-450, and she managed to get a few hours of sleep before the flight attendant woke her in time to shower and change before landing.
When she was back in her seat, the flight attendant came back to brief her. “There’s fog in London,” she said, “but the pilot says the ceiling is eight hundred feet, so we shouldn’t have a problem landing. The approach is steeper than at most airports and the runway shorter, so be prepared for that. An embassy car will be waiting on the ramp for you.” She went back to the front of the airplane and buckled in.
“Excuse me,” Stone said, rising from his seat. “I want to watch this approach from the jump seat.” He went forward.
Holly could see nothing but gray outside the windows. As the flight attendant had warned, the approach was steep, and they broke out of the clouds in time to get a good look at the Thames. On touchdown, the reverse thrusters came on, and the pilot braked hard. A moment later they were turning off the runway and onto a ramp.
Stone came out of the cockpit grinning. “That was exciting,” he said.
The attendant opened the door, and they descended to the ramp, where a car was waiting that looked much like the presidential limousine.
“They’ve sent the ambassador’s car,” Holly said, when they were inside. “This is embarrassing.” The door shut with a soft clunk, and they could barely hear the sound of an aircraft taking off from the runway.
“I could get used to this,” Stone said, stretching his legs.
“I can’t believe they sent this car,” Holly said.
“In the circumstances,” Stone said, “I think they wanted you transported in something bombproof.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
She dropped off Stone and her luggage at the Connaught, then the car continued the short distance to the embassy. She was met by two Marine guards at a side entrance on Upper Brook Street, and whisked to the top floor.
“The ambassador wants to see you,” one of the guards said as the elevator stopped. A moment later she was in a large office being greeted by a gray-haired, well-tailored gentleman.
“Ms. Barker,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Ambassador Walters. I just wanted to say hello before you go down to the Agency floor, and extend my condolences for the death of Tom Riley. He was a good man, and I relied on him completely.”
“Thank you, Ambassador,” Holly replied. “I’m grateful for your
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