Page 124 of Stuart Woods' Golden Hour

He’d also turned himself into an Armani-tuxedoed Billy Barnett, with an added component he’d never needed before—a special makeup prosthetic covering the back of his neck that Vesna had helped to apply.

There was a knock at the door, and Billy let Stone in. He, too, was dressed in a tux, his Ralph Lauren.

“Wow,” Stone said, upon seeing Vesna. “I would have never recognized you.”

“Which is the point, I believe,” Billy said.

“If this producing thing doesn’t work out for you, you can transfer to the makeup department.”

Vesna’s transformation had been necessary due to her previous relationship with Dieter Wenz, since there would be no avoiding crossing paths with him that evening.

“Vesna, would you mind if I had a private word with Billy?” Stone asked.

“As long as you don’t say anything bad about me,” she said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Aren’t you a dear.” She headed into the bedroom.

Once Stone and Billy were alone, Stone said, “Have you talked to Lance today?”

“No. I’ve been busy. Why?”

“He received a very interesting email this morning, fingering the mole.”

“Thatisinteresting. Has Lance acted on it?”

“He has. I understand a full confession is in the works.”

“That’s a relief. Who sent the email?”

“Unknown, though Lance surmises the sender is someone who works for Braun.”

Though Billy had only come in contact with a few of Braun’s employees, he had a pretty good idea who the emailer had been.

Vesna stuck her head back into the room. “All right to come back now? Or are you boys still gossiping?”

Billy checked his watch. “Everyone will be in the lobby in a few minutes, so we should get a move on it.” He glanced at Stone. “Before we go, hold out your hand.”

Billy removed a small cloth pouch and emptied the contents into Stone’s palm. There were three items: a box that looked like a thin version of an old-fashioned pager, a dime-sized disc, and a square of plastic on which were several small ovals in a range of skin tones.

Billy picked up the latter and held it beside Stone’s ear.

“This should work,” he said. He pointed at the third oval in the top row. “It’s your earpiece. Adhere it to the end of your ear canal.”

Stone placed it where he’d been told. “Like this?”

Billy examined it. The color was almost an exact match, making the earpiece nearly impossible to see. “Perfect.” He picked up the dime-sized disc. “This is your mic. It sticks to the inside of your collar and should press against your skin.”

While Stone put it on, Billy switched on the black box.

“This is your transmitter. The dial on the side is your volume control. Don’t mess with anything else.”

He handed it to Stone.

After turning on his own comm set, Billy took a few steps away and whispered, “Test, test.”

“Hear you loud and clear,” Stone said.

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