“All right, see you then.”
They both hung up.
* * *
—
TOMMY CHANG SLEPT LATE, then checked his cameras in 212 with his iPhone. The rooms were empty, and there was a room-service table there, bearing dirty dishes. She had gone out. He checked the locator app: the blue dot was a dozen blocks downtown and moving. He’d have to make tonight the night.
* * *
—
STONE’S NEXT CALL was from Dino. “Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning,” Stone replied.
“I’ve got some more news, and it isn’t good.”
“Break it to me.”
“Remember Boris Ivanov?”
“The gorilla? How could I forget him?”
“He’s out.”
“What?”
“He lawyered up. A senior partner at Craig and Zanoff showed up and sprung him.”
“That’s a white-shoe firm,” Stone said. “What’s the lawyer’s name?”
“Greg Zanoff.”
“The guy with his name on the door comes down and springs a Russian gorilla? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I guess Selwyn Owaki can buy anybody he likes.”
“I don’t know much about Owaki, just what I’ve read in the papers.”
“Owaki specializes in not having anybody know anything about him,” Dino said. “He does his deals at arm’s length—always has a lawyer or two between him and his customers. He has eight or ten houses in world capitals, lives like a potentate, makes large donations to charities. He’s handsome and charming.”
“I’ve never even seen a photograph of him.”
“We have one in our files, but it’s of very poor quality,” Dino said. “I couldn’t make him on the street.”
“Do I have anything to worry about?”
“You’re the only witness who can put Ivanov in Bellini’s apartment at the time of the murder.”
“But not enough of a witness to convict him?”
“I would have thought so, but Ivanov is on the street now, and probably has left the country. Owaki has a fleet of private jets, three or four, plus a couple of helicopters. In New York he works out of the four top stories of a very expensive apartment building that he owns on East Fifty-seventh Street.”
“Sorry, he owns the apartment or the building?”
“The building and the apartment.”
“That’s a new one on me,” Stone said.
“Listen, if you’ve got an army you want equipped, Owaki is your guy—weapons, aircraft, missiles, tanks, you name it, he can assemble and deliver the order.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, during the short time he was talking, Ivanov told us his excuse for being in Bellini’s apartment.”
“Which was?”
“A computer thumb drive that contains the plans for something that his pal Beria had bought from Bellini.”
“I know about the thumb drive,” Stone said.
“You don’t have the thing, do you?”
“No, I gave it to Meg—the designs belong to her company. And Bellini rigged his computer so that Beria could open the files once, but the second time the data would be destroyed.”
“So Meg has what Beria—which means Owaki—wants?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Does Beria know that?”
“No, but he may think I have it. Bellini could have told him.”
“Listen, pal, I think you better go armed for a while, and I mean day and night.”
“But you think Ivanov has left the country.”
“I think maybe he has, but Beria hasn’t, and he could walk into your office, blow your brains out, and we couldn’t touch him.”
“Well, he did get a look at me in that elevator, and he saw me get into my car.”
“And he saw you following him, too, and he got your tag number, remember?”
“I remember.”
“Maybe you should go to England or to Paris, Stone. I mean, you have those houses, so pick one and get out of town.”
“I already got out of town once, and it didn’t do a lot for me.”
“Then call Mike Freeman at Strategic Services and get him to put some people on you for a while.”
“I’ll think about it,” Stone said.
“Listen, I’ve got another call to take, so I’ve gotta run. I’ll call you later.”
“See you,” Stone said, then hung up.
41
Stone took a cab uptown and presented himself at room 212 at The Pierre. Meg answered the door, put her arms around his waist, pressed herself against him, and consented to be kissed. “How are you?” she asked finally.
“Better than I was before I rang the bell,” Stone replied.
* * *
—
TOMMY CHANG had just turned on his computer and the cameras when he saw a man let into the room. Ms. Harmon greeted him very, very warmly, then she led him to the living room sofa, and he sat.
* * *
—
“KNOB CREEK, I presume,” Meg said, “and I had better presume correctly or call room service.”
“That will be just fine,” Stone said, and she poured one for him, then a vodka for herself. She sat beside him on the sofa, and they drank.
* * *
—
TOMMY FIGURED they would be having their drink, then going out. He fiddled with the sound and finally could overhear their conversation.
* * *
—
“I’VE MISSED YOU,” Meg said.
“I’ve missed you, too, and it’s only been twenty-four hours.”
“I have an overwhelming desire to fuck you,” Meg said, “but I’ve ordered dinner for us here, and I don’t want to be interrupted by a room service waiter.”
* * *
—
“WHOA!” Tommy said to himself. “This could get good.”
* * *
—
MEG UNZIPPED STONE’S TROUSERS, freed him, and buried her face in his lap.
* * *
—
TOMMY FELT that she was doing it to him; he couldn’t believe his luck.
* * *
—
STONE LAID his head back and enjoyed himself while Meg continued. Shortly, he climaxed, and she relented. She tucked him back into his trousers and zipped him up. “There,” she said.
“There, indeed,” Stone replied. “Now what can I do for you?”
“Well, since I came at the same time you did, just talk to me. After dinner, we’ll consider our options.”
Stone took a deep breath and tried to restore his heartbeat to its pre-fellatio condition. A large swig of bourbon helped. They finished their drinks, and she poured them both another. The doorbell rang, and she called out, “Come in!”
Tommy calmed himself. A waiter had appeared, pushing a cart, and he set it up by the windows. After that terrific first act, he was going to have to watch them eat dinner. He hadn’t expected a caller, he hadn’t expected the sex, and he hadn’t expected them to remain in the suite for dinner.
* * *
—
THE WAITER SERVED their first course of seared foie gras and said that he would return to serve their second course.
“How was your day?” Stone asked.
“Very good. Margo Goodale and I completed all the co-op forms, and my accountant faxed me three years of tax returns and my financial statement, and you, Dino, and Arthur sent over your letters of recommendation. I have to pay to have their detective service do a background check on me, which is supposed to be happening tomorrow.”
“That means a man will sit down at a computer and do a search for a criminal record, both federal and state. Have you committed any felonies or misdemeanors?”
“None.”
“Any DUIs?”
“None.”
“Any lawsuits against you active?”
“None.”
“Then he will so notify your board and collect his outrageous fee.”
“It certainly was outrageous, for so little effort.”
“Well, he had to pay for his computer and the software. Everybody has to make a living.”
“Sometimes I have to think that everybody has to make a living off me.”
“It’s what happens when you become suddenly wealthy in public. Everybody in the United States who reads the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, or any other newspaper subscribing to the Associated Press wire service now knows your approximate net worth, and a significant number of them are trying to figure out how to separate you from a portion of it by selling you some product or service. Another, hopefully smaller, number are trying to figure a way to swindle you out of some of it.”
* * *