Twice a Spy_ A Novel - Keith Thomson [52]
A Realtor is supposed to precede his clients, but these two were bloody racewalkers. DeSoto hurried in pursuit. Greenwich, he reminded himself, was a bedroom community of New York City. New Yorkers rushed even through cheesecake.
If the den was a den, then the White House was just a house. The giant room was still furnished, including sofas and chaises and divans dating back to Louis XIV, restored and reupholstered well beyond Versailles standards. The best part was the far wall, which opened onto a golden beach.
“Mr. Fielding had the sand imported from Venezuela’s Paria Peninsula,” DeSoto said.
Too late. The clients were out the far door.
He labored to keep pace, calling after them, “The lower level includes an old-fashioned billiards room as well as a tavern with an authentic mahogany Victorian bar. There’s also a squash court, a gym, a marble steam room resembling an ancient Roman bathhouse, and a game room with enough arcade games to keep grandchildren occupied for a whole weekend.”
Larsen and McDonough gave the lower level maybe a minute before going out to the pool deck. Mopping his forehead with his ascot, DeSoto resumed the chase.
McDonough stopped and waited for him. Although the waves and wind made such discretion superfluous, the young man said, sotto voce, “The house is lovely, but old Mrs. Larsen’s going to redo everything regardless of what Mr. Larsen thinks.”
“I’m sure she has wonderful taste,” DeSoto said, dabbing his brow again.
“Hey, how about we give you a breather while the boss checks out the pool house?” McDonough waved at the building. “That will be his; Mrs. L. doesn’t go into water—hairdo-related reasons.”
“I look forward to recommending decorators,” DeSoto said, thinking of his $1,120,000 commission.
The dutiful McDonough hurried after Larsen, who was rounding the enormous pool. Plopping onto a chaise lounge, DeSoto checked his BlackBerry. There was a text message from Bettina Ludington: “CHECK UR EMAIL!!! URGENT!!!”
The cellular reception was poor. While waiting for the e-mail message to appear, DeSoto chewed away a good part of a thumbnail.
Finally:
Frank: if ur 2 whales r these 2, u can get a 10K bonus …
Attached were photographs of two men wanted by the Martinique Police for multiple counts of fraud and racketeering.
Charlie slid open a door leading to the enormous pool house. The living room looked like a nightclub, not only because of its size, but also because of the mirrored walls, expensive erotic art, and enough low-slung, Euro-posh furniture to accommodate half the jet set. The giant bar was stocked with, it seemed, every spirit known to man, in every possible configuration of decanter. The pale morning light set the crystal and fluids aglow.
“Been here before?” Charlie asked Drummond.
“I don’t remember.”
“My guess would be that a lot of the people who’ve been here don’t remember it.”
“Oh.” Drummond blinked at his reflection on the mirrored back wall, as if expecting something altogether different. He pressed his palms against the mirror.
A door sprung inward.
Charlie felt a charge of excitement. “Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”
“A door,” Drummond explained.
Charlie followed him into a plush-carpeted hallway opening into two guest rooms. Like those in the main house, the rooms would have suited guests accustomed to Buckingham Palace. Not the sort of area where laundry was done.
Drummond started down the hall with an air of determination.
Charlie trailed him. “Going anywhere in particular?”
“We’re trying to find the washing machine, right?”
Rounding a corner, Drummond opened another door, revealing a stairway with relatively plain carpeting. He tromped down the steps. Charlie’s hope was rekindled.
At the base of the stairs, luxury gave way to dark, featureless walls and a hint of mildew. Drummond threw the light switch as if he’d known exactly where the wall panel was, illuminating a large basement of bare concrete.
At one end, a central air-conditioning unit heaved air into a labyrinth of foil-coated ducts. At the other end of the room stood a hot