“Yeah, I know. Day before yesterday, in Maine. I just heard a few minutes ago.”
“Are we going to be okay?” Rena asked. She was aware of their cash-flow problem.
“Yeah, we are. I’m going to want you to make a deposit today—tomorrow at the latest. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I have to fly to New York for a few days, so have the Baron refueled, and you take the Cessna 210.”
“Okay, see you soon.”
Tommy hung up, then downloaded the app to his computer and checked his iPhone to be sure it was working properly. A blue dot appeared at New York City. He showered and shaved, packed a bag, dressed, locked up, and headed for the airport.
* * *
—
HE PARKED in his usual spot and went into the office. Sheila, his secretary, was at her desk. “Tomorrow you can start paying bills,” he said. “Rena will confirm when the money’s in the bank.” He went into Rena’s office, opened the shipping envelope and took $10,000 for expenses, then gave the rest to Rena.
“I can fly this afternoon and be at the bank by noon tomorrow,” she said. The procedure was to fly to Nassau, then depart there on a flight plan to Jamaica, then, an hour out, change the destination to Georgetown, in the Cayman Islands.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a week or so.” He took his bag into the hangar and stowed it in the baggage compartment of the Beech Baron, then he went to a steel locker in the hangar and removed an aluminum case on wheels containing two handguns, a folding sniper rifle, and ammunition for all. He stowed that in the Baron, then hooked up the tow to the airplane and pulled it out onto the ramp. He used his cell phone to check the weather, which was good, and file a flight plan for Brandywine Airport in West Chester, Pennsylvania. At the appropriate moment, he would cancel his flight plan and land, instead, at Essex County Airport, in Caldwell, New Jersey, and from there, take a car service into New York.
Tommy did a thorough preflight inspection of the airplane, then started the engines. He entered his flight plan into the Garmin 1000 flight computer, got his IFR clearance from the tower, then taxied to the runway, where he was immediately cleared for takeoff. He lifted off, retracted the landing gear and flaps, switched on the autopilot, and let the Garmin 1000 begin flying the programmed route. Soon he was at cruising altitude, and he set the fuel mixture for best economy. He had a four-hour flight ahead of him. Plenty of time to make a plan.
38
Stone had lunch at his desk and pretended to work, but he was depressed about how things had gone with both Dino and Meg. His iPhone chimed, and he looked to see who the e-mail was from. There was only one, and he opened it.
Dear Stone,
I’m so sorry for how things went last night and, especially, this morning. Dino was giving you a hard ride, and I made the mistake of climbing on board. Big mistake.
I want you to know how truly grateful I am for the way you have protected me over the past days. I would be dead if you hadn’t been there, and I would not have liked that. I enjoy your company so much—not to mention the sex—and I want to go on seeing you. Maybe you’ll be able to forgive me after a while, and we can meet for dinner. I’m at The Pierre, in a suite with a nice view of Central Park from a low floor. I’m going to start seeing apartments this morning with your friend Margo Goodale, who sounds very nice and very knowledgeable on the phone.
Again, I offer my sincere apologies for my behavior, and I hope you will accept them.
Stone read it a second time and melted a little. He wrote back that he would call her soon.
* * *
—
A TEXT CAME from Dino. “Sorry about last night, pal,” he said. “Viv’s coming in late this afternoon, so you’ll have somebody to talk to over dinner. Can we meet at Rotisserie Georgette at 7:30? I’ll book. I’m buying, to make up for the hard time I gave you yesterday.”
Stone wrote back: “See you then, and as long as you’re buying, I’ll pick the wine.”
* * *
—
EVERYBODY WAS on time for dinner, and the waiter knew to bring Stone’s bourbon and Dino’s scotch. Viv had a martini.
They clinked glasses. “I hear you’re talking only to me,” Viv said.
“It’s a relief, really,” Stone replied. “Your husband never shuts up, and it’s hard to get a word in edgewise.”
“Tell me about it,” Viv said. “Are you still mad at Meg?”
“No, she wrote me a very nice note today, and I’ve gotten over it.”
“Good,” Viv said, “because she’s right around the corner at The Pierre, and she’s joining us for dinner, and she says she has some very exciting news. Ah! Here she comes! What timing!”
Stone rose to greet Meg, who kissed him on the lips before she sat down. “May I have some of that bourbon you drink, please?” she said to Stone.
Stone ordered the Knob Creek and it arrived quickly. A small jazz group began to play up front.
“All right,” Viv said, “what’s this exciting news you have?”
“I found an apartment,” Meg said.
“What, on your first day of looking?”
“First day, first apartment I looked at.”
“Tell us about it,” Viv said.
“Well, to begin with it’s in your building.”
“Oh, I know the one—it’s two floors up from us. The old gentleman who lived there died a couple of weeks ago. His wife died last year.”
“Sounds like the one,” Meg said. “It wasn’t even on the market yet, but Margo got a tip from one of the doormen, and he let us in to see it. It has big rooms, and lots of them. The gentleman’s kids had cleared it of his personal things, but it’s available furnished. Not everything is to my liking, but there are a couple of beautiful Persian carpets that were left, and I’ll need some upholstering and a few pieces of furniture. It’s even got a grand piano! It will need painting throughout and new window treatments, but it’s fit to move into immediately.”
“Well,” Viv said, “maybe not immediately, exactly. Did Margo explain the application and board approval requirements? It took us nearly three months to get it done.”
“Margo and I spent the afternoon filling out the documents. My accountant is sending my tax returns, so all I need is some personal references and a meeting with the board.”
“We’d be delighted to give you a reference,” Viv said.
“As will I,” Stone echoed.
“As will Arthur Steele,” said Meg. “And the board meets next Monday. Margo says that half of the members are on Wall Street, so they’ll know who I am, and that will help.” She glanced at Stone. “I do need a lawyer to close the sale. Margo recommended somebody, but I’d rather have you, Stone.”
“I’ll get you the best real estate attorney at Woodman & Weld, and I’ll look over everything to be sure it’s right.”
“Margo took a contract over to the seller, who is the owner’s son. I made it easy for him by offering the asking price. She expects to get the contract back tomorrow, and if we get board approval, we can probably close by the end of next week.”
“You’re lucky the son didn’t want to move in, himself,” Dino said.
“He’d just bought a house in Westchester, and the place is too big for a pied-à-terre.”
They ordered dinner, and the women took the opportunity to go to the ladies’.
“I’ve got some news, too,” Dino said.
“Shoot.”
“We braced Stanislav Beria this afternoon, and, as expected, he clammed up and claimed diplomatic immunity.”
“But . . . ?”
“But we nailed the gorilla off the reservation, and we have him locked up. Turns out he works for Selwyn Owaki, not for the mission, so he has no immunity. He’s being pumped right now for information on his boss. With a murder charge hanging over him, we might be able to turn him.”
“That is very good news.”
“His name is Boris Ivanov, and he’s a nasty piece of work—ex-GRU, military intelligence, but forget about the intelligence part, he’s just muscle.”
“I’d be delighted to testify against him,” Stone said.
“Funny thing,” Dino said.
“What’s that?”