Unintended Consequences - By Stuart Woods

12





Stone got dressed and sat on the edge of his bed for a few minutes, trying to think of every way this news could be wrong. He knew Dino and Viv were in St. Barts; their names were on the passenger manifest. But why? They should have arrived in St. Barts days ago. Could they have gone to another island for some reason, then returned? He could not get his mind off what he was going to have to say to Ben Bacchetti.

He called Amanda Hurley’s hotel to break their luncheon date: no answer at her room, and he didn’t have her cell number. There was a strange buzzing noise, and he suddenly realized that his cell phone was dancing across the glass desktop. He ran for it; had to be Holly, maybe with good news.

“Hello?” He was short of breath.

“Stone?” A man’s voice.

“Yes?” Why didn’t he hurry up and talk?

“It’s Dino.”

“What?”

“It’s Dino. What’s the matter, do we have a bad connection?”

His brain thrashed through the gears of recognizing the voice. “Dino?”

“I told you twice.”

That was Dino. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“And Viv?”

“Just fine. Did somebody call you?”

“Holly called, said you were on the passenger manifest of the airplane that crashed yesterday.”

“I heard about that. It was a Mr. and Mrs. David Bacchetti, of Denver, Colorado, no relation that I know of.”

“There are two Bacchettis?”

“There are lots of them, but mostly in Italy.”

“Then you’re alive?”

“Do I sound dead?”

“No more than usual.”

“Somebody called our hotel and told me to call you. Are you in New York?”

“I’m in Paris.”

“Why the f*ck are you in Paris?”

“I have no idea.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, and it’s too early in the day for you to be drunk. I mean, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I was hoping you could tell me what happened after your wedding.”

“Stone, I haven’t talked with you since the wedding. How would I know why you’re in Paris?”

“I lost four days.”

“What did you do with them?”

“All I know is that I spent one night on a flight to Paris. The rest is a blank.”

“Are you feeling all right, Stone?”

“I am now, but I was drugged when I got to Paris.”

“Who would want to drug you in Paris?”

“I mean, on the airplane. Somebody drugged me then. I apparently managed to get through the airport and into a cab under my own steam, then I passed out, and the driver went through my pockets, then took me to the American Embassy, where Holly’s people took care of me.”

“You need me to come to Paris?”

“Hell, no! I want you to enjoy your honeymoon!”

“Okay, I’ll be sure and do that. What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to try to find out what happened during those four lost days.”

“And you think sleeping with a few Parisiennes is going to make that happen?”

“Come on, Dino.”

“Well, that’s your usual solution to any problem. What’s the matter, aren’t there enough women in Paris?”

“More than enough.”

“Well, eventually one of them will enlighten you.”

“Funny you should mention that, it’s what I hoped would happen.”

“How many have you tried so far?”

“Only two.”

“You’d better get your ass in gear, then.”

“I’ll do that. I’m glad you’re not dead, Dino. I already had a plane to St. Barts booked.”

“That’s sweet of you, kiddo, but what I’m doing here, I don’t need any help. Call me if you need me.”

“Will do.” They hung up. Stone couldn’t seem to get enough air in his lungs. He walked around the room taking deep breaths, swinging his arms and mopping his sweaty face on his sleeve. He looked at his watch: a quarter to one.

He went downstairs and asked the concierge to cancel his travel plans, then he got a cab to Saint-Germain-des-Prés. Before he entered Brasserie Lipp, he leaned against a streetlamp, pressing his forehead against the cool metal, then he took a few more deep breaths and went inside.