Contraband

22

The following morning, Max was seated with Dino and Viv, who rarely missed an opportunity to travel with Stone, in the rear of the Latitude, with Stone in the left pilot’s seat and Faith in the right. A third pilot traveled in the jump seat.

Stone flew the departure procedure, then got a climb directive to FL440 and headed west. Once he was at altitude and on course, he was replaced by Faith in the left seat and the spare pilot in the right, and he walked back, sat down with the others, and picked up the Times. “Everybody comfortable? Can I get anyone anything?”

“I’ll have a double scotch,” Dino said.

“He will not!” Viv said reprovingly. “It’s ten AM!”

“Don’t worry, I’m just trying to annoy you,” Dino said.

“Well, it’s working, so stop it. Sometimes I think I should just give him a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label with a nipple on it,” Viv said.

“Would you, please?” Dino replied.

She slapped a New Yorker into his lap. “Shut up and read,” she said.

By the time Stone had read the Times thoroughly, and completed the crossword, they were crossing the Mississippi, and the copilot served hot sandwiches and cold beer.

After the remains of lunch had been cleared away, Max got out her iPhone and went to her photo file, then handed the phone to Stone. “Take a look at these,” she said.

Stone took the phone and gazed at a photograph of her Mercedes 300S convertible. “Oh, my goodness,” he said. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He scrolled through the other photographs. “And it’s a gorgeous restoration.”

“Only nineteen thousand miles on the odometer,” Max said, “and she owned it since new.”

“Are you really going to sell it to somebody?”

“No, I’m going to sell it to you,” she said, “by making you an offer you can’t refuse.”

“I’d like to hear that number,” he replied.

“Two hundred fifty thousand dollars,” she said.

“That would look really good at the L.A. house,” Stone said. Then he got down his briefcase from the overhead compartment, found his checkbook, wrote one out, and signed it. “There you go,” he said, handing her the check. “Now, how am I going to get it to L.A.?”

“There are two ways,” Max said. “It can be flatbedded across the country in four days, or it can be flown.”

“Flown?”

“The restorer has access to a lot of delivery systems, which include a cargo airplane. It can be there tomorrow.” She handed him the restorer’s card.

Stone reached for the satphone, made the call, talked for a couple of minutes, then hung up. “He’s going to fly to Key West, pick it up from your house, drive it aboard the airplane, and take off this afternoon. It will be at the Arrington in L.A. by five o’clock tomorrow.”

“Now everybody’s happy,” Max said. “What’s an Arrington?”

“I’ll give you the short version: I used to have a girlfriend named Arrington Carter, but she left me for a movie star, Vance Calder, and married him instead.”

“I remember Vance Calder.”

“Everybody does. A few months after his death she married me. A few months after that, she was murdered by a ditched lover, and I inherited Vance’s estate. He owned a lot of L.A. real estate, including a large house on eighteen acres in Bel-Air. Some partners and I developed it into a hotel, which we called the Arrington, and part of the deal was that I would have a house on the property. That’s where we’re headed, and so is your aunt’s car. Now, if you’ll excuse me, flying makes me sleepy.”

By the time Stone had finished his nap, they were on their final approach to Burbank Airport. Upon landing, they were met by a Bentley from the hotel and a van for their luggage.

“What will happen to Faith and the other pilot?” Max asked as they got into the car.

“After they’ve put the airplane into its hangar, they’ll rent a car and drive to the Arrington. There’s a guesthouse where they’ll be comfortable. Faith knows the way.”

Forty minutes later, Stone was showing Max his house and the grounds, while their luggage was being unpacked in the master suite by staff. Max liked the pool. “I wish I’d brought a swimsuit,” she said.

“You don’t need one. It’s completely private, but if you’re shy, go down to the shop and pick out something.”

Max found a thick terrycloth robe in the bathroom and started undressing. “Join me?” she asked, tossing him the other robe.

“You’re on,” he said.

Moments later they were floating in the cool water under a hot sun.

“So, what’s this board meeting you have to go to tomorrow?”

“Centurion Studios,” Stone said.

“Movies?”

“And television, lots of television.”

“How did you get involved in the movies?”

“Vance Calder, in his youth as an actor, negotiated a deal with Centurion that gave him ten percent of the gross of every movie, and shares in the studio. By the time his fifty-year career ended, he was the largest single shareholder of the studio. A lot of it is in Peter’s trust.”

“Who’s Peter?”

“I’ll tell you, but it is a deep, dark secret. So you can’t tell anyone else.”

She made the motions of crossing her heart.

“I got Arrington pregnant shortly before she left me. I didn’t know, and neither did she. Eventually, she had a son, which Vance, naturally, thought was his. At least, I don’t think she ever told him. Peter got the larger share of Vance’s estate, and I manage his trust. I bought more shares, and with the shares of some friends thrown in, we have a small majority of the stock. Peter changed his last name to mine, and now he’s a director at Centurion, in partnership with Dino’s son, Ben, who’s now head of production. I have to attend board meetings to vote our group’s stock and see that all our interests are protected.”

“Will I meet Peter while I’m here?”

“Yes, and Ben, too. They and their wives are coming to dinner tomorrow evening.”

“Well,” she said, “I guess I’ll have to wear clothes.”

“Not on my account,” Stone said. “I like you au naturel.”

“Then I’ll try to be that way whenever possible.”

“What more can I ask?” Stone said, pulling himself out of the pool. “Except a drink. Join me?”

“You betcha,” Max said, hoisting herself out and grabbing a robe. “And I’ll be modest for a short while.”