“I can affirm that,” Meg replied. “Can you have people shot?”
“Not in my own neighborhood, I fear,” Felicity replied. “I’m just across the river, you know.”
“I have heard,” Meg replied.
“I don’t know why Stone couldn’t handle something like that himself,” Felicity said. “There’s a very good deer rifle from Holland & Holland right over there in his gun cabinet.” She nodded toward it.
“Not in my own neighborhood,” Stone said.
“Perhaps I should do it myself,” Meg said. “I’m a very good shot.”
“I would certainly have no objection,” Felicity said, “but I can’t speak for Her Majesty’s Government, who might take exception—in the nicest possible way, of course.”
“Of course,” Stone said.
“I could, perhaps, put in a word with the home secretary before your sentencing, though.”
“How kind of you,” Meg replied, and they all laughed.
* * *
—
DINNER WAS a country paté and pheasant from the estate, accompanied by a bottle of outstanding old claret from Windward Hall’s cellar, followed by Stilton and a vintage port.
Stone was pleased to see that the two women got on famously, and Felicity had been a perfect lady.
“Now then,” Felicity said over her second glass of port, “we must do something about your situation. I think it’s appalling that you can’t even take a walk or go for a gallop.”
“What can be done?” Stone asked.
“The insufferable Mr. Owaki believes himself to be untouchable,” she said, “and I always enjoy upsetting the carts of the insufferable. Perhaps his new factory hasn’t been subjected to the proper level of inspection by various departments of the county council.”
“Since Owaki is a new employer in the district,” Stone said, “I doubt if they would wish to make him uncomfortable.”
“Still, he isn’t actually building anything yet, is he?”
“The county newspaper says he is continuing to build the sports cars for which his factory is famous.”
“And losing ten thousand pounds on every one,” Felicity replied. “That’s why he was able to buy the concern cheaply. I think you’re already doing the thing that will hurt him most—depriving him of the designs of what he would really like to build.”
“You know, my board has discussed the possibility of manufacturing on this side of the pond,” Meg said.
Stone smiled. “Perhaps they would vote to make Mr. Owaki an insultingly low offer for the place.”
“That would be very satisfying,” Meg said.
Felicity spoke up. “I could put you in touch with a British intermediary who would keep the source of the offer a dark secret.”
“I’ll make some calls tomorrow,” Meg said.
51
Stone was taking a nap the following afternoon, paying the price for the good bourbon, claret, and port he had ingested the previous evening, when Meg came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Stone, wake up,” she said.
“Mmmmf?” he replied.
“Open your eyes and ears. I have important news.”
Stone opened one eye. “How much port did I drink last night?”
“Three glasses, just like Felicity and I. Now listen to me carefully.”
“I’m listening carefully,” Stone said, opening the other eye.
“I’ve just spoken with my attorneys in San Francisco, and they told me that they filed for all our patents on the date I asked them to. However, upon checking, they find that they have no acknowledgment of that fact from the U.S. Patent Office.”
“That’s all right, they will have confirmation of delivery from whatever shipping service they used.”
“I’m afraid not,” she said. “They sent it to the post office, along with all their other outgoing mail that day—their mailroom has a record of it going out—but it was sent by ordinary mail, not registered mail, so there is no record of a notice of receipt from the patent office, who say that they have no record of it being filed.”
Stone sat up in bed. “Your attorneys should have received a notice that would allow you to use the designation ‘Patent Applied For.’”
“I’m afraid they didn’t.”
“Then your attorneys need to begin an immediate investigation of what happened to the package, questioning every employee who could have handled it.”
“They are doing that now. My question to you is, if they can’t find a notice of receipt, what is my position?”
“Your position, in those circumstances, would be a person or a corporation who has not applied for a patent.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that. How can I fix this?”
“First of all, it’s necessary that you officially become my client.”
“Stone, will you please represent me as my attorney in all matters relating to all my company’s products?”
“Yes. Now I need Joan to e-mail us the correct paperwork, but I don’t want to wait until we receive it to start on this. May I proceed?”
“You may proceed.”
Stone called Joan and requested the e-mailing of an exclusive client retainer document, then he called Bill Eggers, the managing partner of Woodman & Weld.
“Good morning, Stone,” Eggers said.
“Good afternoon, Bill—at least it is in England.”
“I see. What are you up to over there?”
“Well, I’ve just signed a new client—Harmony Software of Silicon Valley fame, and its CEO, Meg Harmon.”
“It would be the firm’s great pleasure to represent the company and Ms. Harmon. Has she signed a retainer agreement?”
“It’s being e-mailed to me as we speak.”
“Good. Well, I have a meeting to go to.”
“Not yet,” Stone said.
“Why not?”
“Because our new client’s previous attorneys have fucked up royally, and unless we can sort this out in a hurry, the world may fall on both our new client and, by extension, us.”
“Explain, please.”
Stone explained.
“So, if this Owaki fellow can get his hands on the designs, he could file a patent application?”
“I am very much afraid that is correct.”
“What is the name of the managing partner of her previous law firm?”
Stone put his hand over the phone. “Who are your San Francisco attorneys, and who is the top man there?”
“Coward, McMillan & Crane, and John Coward is the senior partner and my attorney.”
Stone conveyed that information to Bill Eggers, then there was a knock on the door, and Major Bugg’s assistant entered the room with a thick stack of papers.
“This was just received from your office, Mr. Barrington,” she said, “and we printed it out for you.”
“Hang on a minute, Bill,” Stone said, and put the phone down. “Meg,” he said, handing her the pages, “this is our standard agreement for new clients. Please read it, then sign the last page.”
Meg skipped to the last page, signed it, and handed it to Stone.
“Bill,” Stone said, “I have Ms. Harmon’s signed representation agreement in my hand. I’ll fax it to you.” He handed it back to the woman and instructed her to fax it to Eggers.
“Good. Now I will call John Coward, whom I know, break the news to him, and make unreasonable demands about locating the notice of receipt from the patent office. I will also send two attorneys from our San Francisco office to their offices, to supervise the inquiry into what went wrong. Then I’ll get back to you.”
“Thank you, Bill.” Stone hung up. “All right, Meg, you are no longer a client of Coward, McMillan & Crane, you are now represented by Woodman & Weld, under my direction.”
“I feel better already,” Meg replied.
“Not so fast. Don’t feel better until we have fixed this problem. My managing partner, Bill Eggers, is sending two attorneys from our San Francisco office to your former law firm to find out what the hell happened. Then they will report to Bill, and he will advise us on how to proceed.”
“All right,” Meg said. “Now may I join you for a nap?”
“Of course,” Stone replied, then the telephone buzzed. “Yes?”
“Mr. Barrington,” Carl Atkins, the security man, said, “there is a Mr. Selwin Ozowi—oh, excuse me, sir—a Mr. Selwyn Owaki here to see you. He does not have an appointment.”
“Is he armed or accompanied by anyone?”