Unintended Consequences - By Stuart Woods

22





Stone was napping, exhausted, when the phone rang. “Yes?”

“I have Mike Freeman for you,” a woman’s voice said.

“Yes, of course. Mike?”

“Hey, Stone. I just got back from the coast and called your office. Joan said you’re in Paris.”

“I am,” Stone said. “Bill Eggers and I had a meeting with a French industrialist named Marcel duBois about a week ago. Do you know who he is?”

“I’ve heard him referred to as the French Warren Buffett,” Mike replied. “I don’t know much more than that.”

“Well, I had lunch with him today, and he offered us a billion dollars for The Arrington. Not including the land.”

“Wow,” Mike replied. “That’s a very serious offer. How did you respond?”

“I told him I liked having the hotel and suggested that we enter into an arrangement whereby he would build some more Arringtons in Europe, and we would invest and offer him design and staff training services.”

“And how did he respond?”

“He said that was his fallback position. He owns a chain of cheaper hotels, and he said he could raze a dozen of them around Europe and build Arringtons.”

“And how did you respond?”

“I told him I’d discuss it with you and Eggers.”

“Well, off the top of my head, I’d say it’s a sensational idea.”

“That’s pretty much what I thought.”

“Are you going to talk with him about it further?”

“Are you kidding? The guy would skin me alive. We need to put a team on this. Any ideas?”

“Well, I know some awfully good lawyers, firm called Woodman & Weld. Why don’t you ask Eggers to put a team together?”

“Okay, but before I do that I want to know more about duBois, specifically his history of business practices. He seems like a good guy, but I don’t want to find out he’s a shark after I’m missing a leg.”

“Okay, I’ll run a full-blown background check on him, and I’ll get my Paris office involved. Is there something in particular you’re concerned about?”

“Everything. I’ve never been in business with a multibillionaire before, and it makes me nervous. I’d like to know how close he works to the line of legality and if he’s inclined to cross it.”

“I understand. When are you coming home?”

“I don’t know—as soon as I get a handle on this, I suppose. A few more days.”

“I’ll get right on it. Take care.” Mike hung up.

Stone felt guilty about not bringing Mike fully up to date about his experience, but the backstory didn’t seem that relevant to what he had to do now.

He had been meaning to call Amanda Hurley and he did so now, only to be told that she had checked out of the San Régis. He didn’t have a cell number or a New York number, so he let it go. His phone rang again.

“Yes?”

“It’s Joan.”

“How are you?”

“I’m okay, but what the hell am I supposed to do with this exotic-looking car? It’s outside on a flatbed hauler.”

“Oh, I forgot about that. DuBois said he was shipping it by air.”

“Is this the one you paid two hundred and twenty-five thousand for?”

“One and the same. Please just go into the garage and rearrange things so it will fit next to the Bentley. Get the truck driver to help you. When you get it in there, call my insurance agent and add it to my policy, and list the value as three hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Stone, is this an insurance scam? You only paid two hundred and twenty-five thousand.”

“The replacement cost is three hundred and fifty thousand, maybe more. I got a deal.”

“Okay, I’ll get on it. See ya.” She hung up.

He stood up and stretched and found that he hurt all over. The collision with the truck had shaken him up more than he had known. He resumed his nap.

• • •

At eight he met Helga at Le Grand Véfour, which turned out to be a spectacular monument to the Belle Époque, with a menu to match. He was going to have to start eating more simply if he wanted to preserve his waistline and his digestive tract.

“How was your day?” Helga asked, after the champagne had been served.

“I was involved in a traffic incident,” he said, “and I guess I was a little shaken up, because I ache a lot all over.”

“Poor baby,” she said, patting his cheek. “I was trained as a masseuse, you know.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I’ll make it all better later.”

“You’re on.”

“Did you have your lunch with Marcel?”

“I did.”

“And how did that go?”

“Well, he made me a very good offer for our hotel, but I don’t want to sell it. We may be able to do some business in Europe, though.”

“You can’t do better than doing business with Marcel,” she said.

“Tell me the worst thing you’ve ever heard about him.”

She looked at him, surprised. “The worst? I haven’t heard anything worst. Everyone says he’s a perfect gentleman.”

“Do you know anyone who’s ever been involved in a business deal with Marcel?”

“Yes, my former husband, in Stockholm.”

“How did he find the experience?”

“Profitable.”

“Did he enjoy dealing with Marcel?”

“How could one not enjoy knowing Marcel?”

“I don’t mean his personal charm, I mean his business practices, his dealings. Did your husband like dealing with him?”

“Well, he never complained,” Helga said. “Why are you asking this?”

“If I’m going into business with Marcel, I want to know more about him.”

“He does have a reputation for getting what he wants,” she said. “He will go to great lengths if he really wants something.”

“What kind of lengths?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Is he ruthless?”

“I suppose anyone who has made as much money as Marcel must have a ruthless streak. Is that a bad thing?”

“It depends on how ruthless. Have you ever known anyone who has done business with Marcel, then regretted it later?”

“He does have a reputation for being very charming with people in his business dealings, then dumping them after he gets what he wants.”

“Socially dumping, you mean?”

“Yes, but a man like Marcel has no more hours in the day than you or I. No busy person has time for everybody. After all, he’s not a politician who has to keep everybody sweet.”

The waiter came with the menu, and the subject changed, but Stone thought about duBois all through dinner.