Unintended Consequences - By Stuart Woods

25





They followed the BMW back toward the center of Paris, to Montmartre, past the old church and down a side street.

“Fritz?” Rick said.

“Yes, sir?”

“Have you done this before?”

“Only in my dreams, sir.”

Rick laughed aloud. “Everybody wants to do it. Hang on!”

The BMW suddenly pulled to the curb in front of a row of shops and stopped.

“Keep right on going, Fritz,” Rick said. “Take your next right, and circle back. Drive slowly past the BMW.”

Fritz followed his instructions.

They came back into the street, and the BMW was gone.

“See him anywhere?” Stone asked.

They drove slowly past the shops, and as they did, the BMW pulled out of an alley behind them.

“Uh-oh,” Rick said. “Did you see the gallery?”

“What gallery?” Stone asked.

“The Ulyanov Gallery, just behind us. There was a sign in the window announcing an exhibition of new Russian paintings, starting today.”

“Maybe Majorov is going to the opening party,” Stone suggested.

“Then why is he following us?” Rick asked. “No, he’s curious as to who we are.”

“He can’t see us through these darkened windows,” Stone said.

“Good,” Rick said, “because I don’t want him to know who we are. Fritz, let’s go back to M’sieur duBois’s offices.”

“You want him to think we’re duBois?” Stone asked.

“He’ll run our number plate anyway,” Rick replied, “and find that the car is registered to one of duBois’s businesses.”

Fritz drove dutifully to duBois’s building.

“Through the gates and into the courtyard, please,” Rick said. “Then pull over to the left, out of sight of the street.”

Fritz did so.

“Now, Fritz, please go inside to reception and look out the street window—see if you see the BMW.”

Fritz got out of the car and went inside.

“What are we doing?” Stone asked.

“I don’t want Majorov to associate us with this car,” Rick said. “And I don’t want him to see either of us popping up all the time.”

Fritz returned. “The BMW stopped for a couple of minutes, then drove off,” he said.

“Thank you for your help, Fritz,” Rick said. “Okay, out of the car.” He handed Fritz a fifty-euro note. “Would you ask the receptionist to call us a taxi, please? Have him drive in here. I don’t want him to see us leaving the building.”

Shortly a taxi pulled into the courtyard, and they got in. Rick asked the driver to take them to the Plaza Athénée. Back in Stone’s suite, Stone asked, “Rick, do you have some theory of what’s going on here?”

“You mean a unified theory that covers everything from your trip to Paris up to the present moment?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“No,” Rick said, “I don’t. There are too many fragments to put together. What about you?”

“I’m baffled,” Stone said. “I still don’t know who drugged me on the airplane, let alone why. I don’t know why Majorov would be interested in me.”

“He wasn’t interested in you until he saw you, first with me, then with Amanda.”

“I didn’t think he saw me with you,” Stone said.

“The KGB trained him to walk into a room and see everybody,” Rick said. “That’s how the Agency trains us, too. They would walk us into a McDonald’s, then out, and say, okay, describe every adult in the restaurant.”

“And you could do that?”

“It’s amazing what you can do if somebody in authority is insisting. Believe me, Majorov made us together, and after the Amanda incident, he has you pegged as CIA, whether you like it or not.”

“If I have a choice, I don’t like it,” Stone said.

The phone rang, and Stone picked it up. “Yes?”

“It’s Eggers.”

“So you kept the satphone?”

“The pilot didn’t want to leave without it, but I insisted. I don’t think anyone had ever taken one of his toys.”

“Poor guy. I’ll bet he’s having trouble explaining that.”

“He’ll get over it when I send it back to him. The reason I called is, I remembered that thing I couldn’t remember when I talked to you before.”

“Tell me.”

“He said Warren Buffett recommended our firm to him.”

“Have you ever done any business with Warren Buffett?”

“No.”

“Do you know Warren Buffett?”

“No.”

“Then why the hell would the man recommend us to Marcel duBois?”

“I have no idea. I’m still trying to figure it out. Why don’t you ask him?”

“All right.”

“But don’t tell him we don’t know Warren Buffett.”

“You think it’s better if he thinks we do?”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

“Bill, while I’ve got you, I need some help.”

“Okay, what kind?”

“DuBois has made us an offer for The Arrington.”

“How much of an offer?”

“A billion dollars, not including the land.”

“Take it. Anything else?”

“Wait a minute, what Mike Freeman and I want to do is to sell him, say, twenty percent of the hotel, then invest the proceeds with duBois for building some Arringtons in Europe.”

“Great! Do that!”

“What I need from you is a couple of guys from the firm to make up a negotiating team to do the deal.”

“All you need is one guy,” Eggers said.

“Who?”

“You.”

“I’ve never dealt with somebody that rich before. I’m afraid he’d skin me alive.”

“Stone, if this were somebody else’s hotel, you wouldn’t bat an eye. You’re just nervous about playing poker with your own money. Sit down with the guy, trade a few lies about what you each think it’s worth, and get another offer from him. Then you can check with me, and I’ll tell you if you’re crazy or if duBois is.”

“Well . . .”

“You’re wasting my time. There are moose waiting.”

“Okay. How’s the moosing going?”

“Not bad. I’ll send you some steaks.”

“Don’t, please don’t. I’ll never eat them.”

“You’re suffering from a Bambi complex,” Eggers said.

“No, I have no trouble with venison, but moose is something else again. I think it’s their soulful eyes.”

“Sissy.” Eggers hung up.

Rick stood up. “All right, I’m leaving now. If anybody tailed us in the taxi . . .”

“We didn’t see the BMW while we were in the taxi,” Stone pointed out.

“What makes you think there weren’t other cars following us?”

“What makes you think there were?”

“Majorov didn’t go into that gallery for no reason. He could have collected associates there.”

“You have a suspicious nature,” Stone said.

“It comes with the territory. You might profit from being suspicious. Suspicion might keep you alive longer.”

“Nobody’s taken a shot at me,” Stone said.

“The first one could be the last,” Rick said, then left.

Stone stretched out on the bed for a ten-minute nap.