Class Act

52

The following morning, Stone went to his desk and buzzed Joan.

“Yes, sir?”

“Did you replenish our funds yet?”

“I’m going to the bank this morning.”

“All right, in addition to what you were going to get, I’d like two bundles of cash: fifty thousand dollars each.”

“Another hundred G’s?”

“That’s right.”

“As you wish.” She hung up.

An hour later, Joan returned from the bank and walked into Stone’s office. “Where would you like these?” she asked.

“Please gift-wrap one bundle, and shape it like a book,” Stone said, “then wrap the other bundle in brown paper the same way and put it in the trunk of the Bentley.”

“Okeydokey,” she replied, taking the money back to her desk.

Stone’s cell rang. “Yes?”

“It’s Hilda. I’ve been rethinking tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. We both know what we want to do to each other, right?”

“You betcha.”

“Well, come up to my suite” — she gave him the number — “and we’ll rip each other’s clothes off and do it right away. Then we can order dinner from room service and start all over again.”

“That’s a very attractive idea,” Stone said. She couldn’t murder him in a Carlyle suite and hope to get away with it: too many people around, and body disposal would be particularly difficult. “See you at seven.”

They both hung up.

Joan came back with the beautifully gift-wrapped cash. “Looks very fetching, doesn’t it?”

“Very much indeed,” Stone said.

She held up the brown paper — wrapped package. “And this goes in the trunk?”

“Yes, please.”

“Where in the trunk would you like it?”

“Right in the middle, where you couldn’t miss it if you opened the trunk.”

“Gotcha.” She headed off to the garage with the brown bundle.

That night at seven, Stone got out of the Bentley at the Seventy-Sixth Street entrance to the Carlyle, carrying the gift-wrapped package, went up to Hilda’s suite, and rang the bell. A moment later, she cracked the door with the chain still on and had a look at him. “You must be the guy,” she said.

“I’m the guy.”

She closed the door, unhooked the chain, opened it again, then let him in. She was fetchingly dressed, Stone thought, in a silk dressing gown, open at the front from neck to the Mound of Venus. He liked it.

She came close and gave him a soft, wet kiss. “What’s in the package?” she asked “A gift for me?”

“Yes,” Stone said, “but you’ll have to earn it.”

“Well,” she said, “let’s get started on that.” She peeled the clothes off of him and draped them neatly over a chair, then picked up the package with one hand, then took hold of Stone’s member with the other, and led him into the bedroom, where the bed was already turned down. She set the package on a side table, then dragged Stone onto the bed with her.

For a half hour or so they did everything they could think of to each other, then they lay, temporarily exhausted, on the bed.

“What would you like for dinner?” Hilda asked.

“A prime New York strip steak, medium, baked potato with a lot of stuff on it, and I’ll split a Caesar salad with you.”

Hilda picked up the phone and ordered for the two of them. “Wine?” she asked.

“A bottle of Opus One cabernet.”

She ordered that. “Dessert?”

“Dessert is you.”

She hung up and came back to him. “Now can I open my gift?”

“You haven’t earned it, yet,” Stone said.

“I thought I earned it pretty well.”

“There something you and I have to agree to before you can open it.”

“I’m sure I won’t have any trouble doing that. What is your pleasure?”

“We have to agree to stop trying to kill each other.”

She was silent for half a minute. “Is that what we’ve been trying to do?”

“You’re doing whatever Sal wants you to do, and I sent Cara.”

“Why did you send Cara?”

“Because I knew you were going to try to kill me. If we can’t agree on this, then I’ll get dressed, and you can eat my steak, and we’ll go on with what we’ve been doing. Eventually, one of us will get lucky. It might even be you.”

Hilda blinked her long eyelashes. “All right, I’ll agree. I won’t try to kill you anymore.”

“And I agree not to try to kill you.”

“I’m glad we got that out of the way,” she said. “I feel better. Now, may I open my gift, please?”

“It’s not a gift. It’s a partial payment for services to be rendered.”

“You want to hire me?”

“I do.”

“For what purpose?”

“I want you to kill Sal Trafficante.”

She looked at him closely. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“I kid you not.”

“But you just asked me not to kill anymore.”

“Not to kill me. I didn’t mention Sal.”

“Why Sal?”

“Because he wants to kill me, preferably using your skills, and eventually, he will get lucky. All I’ve accomplished so far is to disarm him of one weapon: you. He has other weapons at his disposal.”

“That, he does.”

“But I have a weapon he doesn’t know about.”

“What is that?”

“Your hatred of him.”

She laughed. “You’re right, he doesn’t know about that.”

“Now you can open your package,” Stone said. “If you’re agreeable to my terms.”

“I’ll tell you after I see what’s inside.”

“Fair enough.” He tossed her the package.

She sat up, reached for the package, and ripped away the ribbon and paper. “Oh, what good taste you have!”

“It’s for the girl who has everything.”

“How much is here?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

“And when Sal is dead?”

“You get another fifty thousand dollars — immediately, no waiting.”

“How’m I supposed to kill him?”

“Any method you like; you get to choose.”

“For a hundred grand?”

“I hear that’s higher than the going rate.”

“When am I supposed to do it?”

“Tomorrow evening is convenient.”

“ ‘Convenient’? Do you want to watch?”

“No, thanks. You can photograph the body with your iPhone for verification.”

“Where’s the other half of the hundred grand?”

“It will be readily available in a convenient place. I’ll give you directions as soon as you’ve verified his demise. You’ll have the money five minutes later.”

“What makes you think I’ll do this?”

Stone shrugged. “Hatred is a good motive. So is greed. Also, I think you would enjoy doing it.”

“You don’t care how I do it?”

“I don’t want you to get caught, so be careful. But if you want to tie him up and torture him first, that’s okay with me. Oh, it would be nice if you could say to him, while he can still understand, that I ordered his death and hired you.”

“What happens if I don’t take the job?”

“Then you don’t get the hundred grand.”

“Not even the first half?”

“This is a business transaction, not your birthday.”

“You are a cold, heartless bastard,” she said.

“Do you care? I think you’d like to have Sal off your back as much as I.”

The doorbell rang, and she grabbed her robe. “Don’t get dressed,” she said. “I’m not through with you, yet.”

“I’m counting on that,” Stone said.

She went into the living room, closing the door behind her. When she returned she beckoned him into the living room. The table was set before the windows, looking south, at the carpet of lights that was Manhattan.

“Sit,” she said, holding a chair for him.

He sat. “One thing,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“When you blow out the candles, be careful. Hot wax on naked flesh is painful.”