Stone took another gulp of the bourbon, then a deep breath. “Offer her a million eight,” he said.
“I’ll be right back,” Jack replied. He walked to the other end of the bar and exchanged a few words with Betty Koelere, then returned. “Betty gratefully accepts your offer,” Jack said. He took the sheaf of papers and removed the last page. “Here’s the contract I drew up for her.” He wrote in Stone’s name and the price. “Initial in the two places and sign right here.”
Stone took another swig of the bourbon, then quickly read the contract, signed, and handed it to Jack. He got out his iPhone and tapped out an e-mail to Joan, then sent it. “Joan will transfer the funds to your firm’s account tomorrow,” he said to Jack.
Jack walked back down the bar, delivered the contract to Betty, who smiled broadly and waved. Jack returned. “Congratulations, Stone, and thank you for making that gentlemanly offer. And by the way, everything on the yacht is in perfect working order, the bottom is clean, and the boat is still under warranty for another four and a half years.”
Dino waved at him from a table. “Join us for dinner?” Stone asked Jack.
“Thanks, but I’m meeting some people. Your copy of the contract is in the envelope.”
Stone walked over to the table and sat down.
“Don’t tell us,” Dino said. “You just bought a boat.”
Stone finished his drink and waved for another. “God help me, I did.”
“Let’s go look at it,” Viv said.
“Tomorrow. Right now I’m starving.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Meg said. “You started the day homeless, clubless, and yachtless in Key West, and you’ve put all that together in a single day.”
Stone managed a weak smile. “I guess I have,” he said.
* * *
—
GINO AND VERONICA BELLINI checked into the Royal Suite at the Dorchester Hotel in London. He plugged in his laptop and checked his e-mail. “My goodness,” Gino said, “Miss Meg’s driverless cars, six in New York and one in Key West, seem to have gone awry. Harmony Software has already reached out for my help.”
“Isn’t that a pity,” Veronica said, lifting the back of his toupee and kissing his bald head. “Now, tell me what you’re getting out of this.”
“Satisfaction, pure satisfaction,” Gino replied, “and a big settlement when I tell them how to fix it.” His cell phone rang, and he answered it.
“Mr. Bellini, this is Frank Simmons at Harmony Software.”
“Hi there, Frank. What can I do for you?”
“Did you get my e-mail? We’ve got a major glitch in the driverless car software, and we need your help.”
“My help? Why, I thought you folks were getting along just fine without my help.”
“Be that as it may, we’d like to retain you as a consultant on the project.”
“On what terms?”
“One year, two million dollars.”
“Sorry, Frank, I’m a busy man.”
“What will it take, Gino? Tell me.”
“Three years at five million a year, and I don’t work on-site, just wherever I happen to be when you need me.”
“Please hold for a moment.”
“He’s checking with Meg,” Gino said to Veronica.
Simmons came back. “Done. I’ll e-mail you a contract. You can sign it, scan it, and return it. Meg will do the same. Now we need you to go into the Beta version and fix whatever is causing the cars to stop running.”
“Just as soon as I receive the contract, signed by Meg.”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“All right, Frank, I’ll fix Meg’s toy. It will be done by noon, Florida time, tomorrow. Oh, and I’ll need the latest sign-ins and passwords.”
“Thank you. Your contract is on the way to Meg.”
“Nice doing business with you, Frank,” Gino said, then hung up.
“It worked?” Veronica asked.
“To the tune of fifteen million dollars over three years,” Gino replied, grinning.
* * *
—
MEG HUNG up her cell phone.
“You look glum,” Stone said. “Anything I can do to help?” They were in the middle of dinner.
“No, I’ve just fixed the problem, but it cost me fifteen million, out of my own pocket.”
“What does that fix?”
“The cars. We should be able to go on with the demonstration to the board. I’ll need to borrow your computer and printer when we get back to the house.”
Stone poured them all more wine. “Meg,” he said, “I get the feeling that extortion may be involved here.”
“And very likely, more to come,” she replied.
* * *
—
THE BELLINIS DINED at Le Gavroche, possibly London’s finest restaurant and holder of three stars from the Guide Michelin.
“I think you should do some shopping tomorrow,” he said to Veronica.
“You’ve read my mind,” she replied. “How much can I spend?”
“I never thought I’d hear myself say these words, but whatever you like.”
“I never thought I’d hear you say those words,” she replied, “but they sound very sweet.”
“I’m a very sweet guy,” Gino said, as the sommelier tipped more Chateau Lafite 1978 into their glasses.
9
Stone navigated his new boat out of its berth, across Garrison Bight, through Key West Harbor, then turned west, into open water, and pushed the throttles of the Hinckley 43 to 3200 rpms. Soon they were cruising at a little better than 30 knots.
“How long to our destination?” Meg asked from the big, comfortable seat beside him.
“It’s about seventy miles, so a bit more than two hours. The calm seas will keep us fast and comfortable.”
“What’s it like out there?”
“It’s better if you see it for yourself.” Stone tapped in half a dozen waypoints on the moving map before him and engaged the autopilot, which took charge and pointed them at the first waypoint.
Dino and Viv came in from the cockpit. “It’s getting pretty windy back there,” Dino said.
“Grab a beer and make yourselves comfortable in the cabin.”
Stone arranged himself in the helmsman’s chair so that he could see both the moving map and Meg by shifting his gaze. “I’m concerned about you,” he said.
“Oh? Why?”
“Well, I’ve known you for only a few days, but who I’m seeing now is not the happy person I saw earlier this week.”
She sighed. “I’m just afraid that, by paying this . . . ‘extortion,’ as you put it, I’m buying into more problems than I’m solving.”
“That’s often the way it is with extortion or blackmail. It’s very likely that he’ll ask you for considerably more. What hold does he have over you?”
“The keys to the kingdom, you might say. Gino Bellini has what you might call a checkered background,” she said. “He was a troubled youth, spent some time in reform school for hacking and computer theft, and narrowly avoided prison. He was rescued from that life by a mentor, a professor of computer science at Stanford, who got him a scholarship there. He didn’t graduate—he was sucked out of there by a Silicon Valley start-up—not mine, not yet—and he began making more money than he would have ever imagined possible, half a million dollars a year, and more. Still, as I was to learn, he retained that part of his psyche that controlled criminality.”
“He’s a born criminal, you mean?”
“Not exactly. That was learned behavior, I think, but it still seems to remain an important part of the way he thinks. When I let him go and paid him off for his share of the company, I thought that would be the end to it. I mean, even after taxes he was sitting on more than a hundred million dollars. You’d think that would be enough to satisfy him, but no. It chafed on him that I was making more than a billion dollars on the deal, never mind that the concept was mine and that I had secured the financing, supervised his coding, and ran the business, while his job was to sit at his computer and make my ideas work. He still managed to believe that, somehow, I had wronged him, cheated him out of his fair share.”
“I hope you had a good attorney when you were setting up the business and writing employment contracts.”
“Oh, yes, the best legal minds in Silicon Valley were paid exorbitant sums to make sure that a situation like this could never arise.”