Hot Pursuit Read Free Page A

asleep quickly.
    He was awakened by a soft hand on his cheek and a light kiss on the lips.
    “Good morning,” she said. “I’m early.”
    “How early?”
    “Half an hour.”
    “Then join me,” he said, reaching over and turning down the covers on the other side of the bed.
    She shed her robe, giving him a glimpse of a curvaceous body, and pulled the covers up over her breasts. “I don’t think I’ve ever started a day like this without an intimate evening before.”
    “Best time of day,” Stone said, raising an arm and offering her a shoulder. She moved over and nestled against him. Things moved quickly along, and they were resting in each other’s arms when a chime rang. “That’s the dumbwaiter,” Stone said. He got out of bed, opened the door, and removed a large tray, setting it on the bed.
    “Wow,” Pat said. “That’s what I call room service.”
    “Helene is always punctual.”
    Stone switched on the morning shows and saw an interview with the two senators on the sidewalk outside Patroon.
    “Salton is pretty slick,” Pat said.
    “He is, isn’t he?”
    “You didn’t know him before last night?”
    “Only from television.”
    “He seemed to know who you were.”
    “I didn’t notice that, and there’s no reason why he should.”
    “But he knew Dino.”
    “Dino’s the police commissioner.”
    “You have a point,” she said. “Still . . .”
    Stone’s bedside phone rang, a rare event at this hour. Stone picked it up. “Hello?”
    “This is Ev Salton. I hope I haven’t called too early.”
    “Not at all, Senator.”
    “Will you have lunch with me today?” He didn’t ask if Stone already had a date.
    “Yes,” Stone said.
    Salton gave him an address. “Just ring the bell,” he said. “Twelve-thirty?”
    “That’s fine.”
    “Good morning to you, then.”
    “Good morning.” They both hung up.
    “That was Senator Salton,” Stone said.
    “I told you he knew who you were,” Pat replied.

4
    STONE ARRIVED at the address, a double-width town house in the East Sixties, and rang the bell. He noticed a security camera high and to his left. Almost immediately a man in a black suit and green tie opened the door. “Your name, please?”
    “Barrington.”
    “Please come in, Mr. Barrington, and follow me.” The man took his overcoat, then led him to an elevator, and Stone was ushered in. “Press five,” the man said.
    Stone pressed five, the doors closed, and when they opened, Senator Everett Salton stood waiting in a small foyer. He shook Stone’s hand.
    “Good to see you, Stone.”
    “And you,” Stone replied.
    “This way.”
    Stone followed him to one of several doors opening off the foyer, and into a sort of sitting room with a table set for two.
    Salton indicated where Stone should sit. “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve ordered for us—saves time.”
    “That’s fine,” Stone said, taking a seat. His place was set with elegant china and crystal and a huge, starched Irish linen napkin.
    “Would you like a drink?” Salton asked.
    “Thank you, just some fizzy water.”
    Instantly, a waiter entered the room and took their drink orders.
    “What is this place?” Stone asked.
    “It’s a sort of club, I suppose,” Salton said.
    He supposed? “Does it have a name?”
    “It does not. The members refer to it vaguely as ‘the club’ or ‘the association’ or ‘the East Side House.’ To what clubs do you belong, Stone?”
    “Only a small golf club in Washington, Connecticut, where I have a house.”
    “No city clubs?”
    “None.”
    “I find that remarkable,” Salton said.
    Stone didn’t ask why. “Are all meals taken in this setting?” Stone asked, indicating the room.
    “No, there is a proper dining room downstairs, but only members are permitted to use it. As a group, they guard their privacy jealously. Guests are received in these private rooms.”
    “I see,” Stone said, overstating his understanding.
    “I’ve wanted to meet you for some