Dirty Work

24

Stone, Dino, Bob Cantor, and Herbie Fisher got off the airplane at Kennedy. Dino flashed his badge at customs, and the moment they were through, Stone felt a handcuff close on his wrist. He looked at it and found Herbie on the other end.

“I’m not taking any chances,” Dino said.

“I have to go to the john,” Herbie said.

“There’s one,” Dino said, pointing. “You two guys have a nice time.”

“Come on, Dino,” Stone said. “Unlock them.”

“I’m not taking them off,” Dino said, “unless I cuff both Herbie’s hands behind him, then you can help him in the john. That okay?”

Stone went into the men’s room with Herbie and waited impatiently while he used the urinal, then they found Dino’s car waiting for them outside and got in. Stone got out his cell phone. Dino got out his own.

Dino dialed. “Gimme the deputy DA’s office,” he said.

Stone dialed. “Tony,” he said, “are you in court? In ten minutes? I’ve got Herbie, but we’re twenty minutes, half an hour out. Can you stall Judge Kaplan? Do your best. Tell her the subway broke down.” Stone hung up.

“George?” Dino said, “Dino Bacchetti. . . . Yeah, you too. Listen, I’m going to save you some time: One of your people is dealing with a Herbert Fisher, charged with manslaughter in the Larry Fortescue case. . . . Right, his appearance is in about ten minutes. Thing is, I’ve been reliably informed that Fisher’s fall through the skylight didn’t cause Fortescue’s death. . . . No, he was poisoned, and by a pro, so he was already dead when Fisher hit him. . . . No, I’m not kidding you, I’ve had a look at the autopsy report. . . . From an intelligence source. This thing is real cloak-and-dagger. Also, these people tell me that Fisher actually did them some good, because he took a photograph of the woman who killed Fortescue. . . . Come on, George, could I make this up? . . . What do I want? George, manslaughter sure isn’t going to stick, and, given the help Fisher was to these people, I’d kick the other charges, if I were you. I think it’s better if this just goes away. . . . My interest in this? My interest is keeping egg off my face, and that oughta be your interest, too. . . . Okay, kiddo. Talk to you later.”

Dino hung up and turned to Stone, who was occupying the backseat with Herbie. “George is going to talk to the ADA on the case. He’s on his way to the courtroom now.”

“You mean this is all going to go away?” Herbie asked.

“Shut up, Herbie,” Dino said. “You’re not out of the woods yet. We’ve still got to get you to court before Kaplan realizes you’re not there.”

“Turn on the siren, Dino,” Stone said.

Dino turned on the siren. “Not that it makes a hell of a lot of difference at this hour.”

Twenty minutes later, as the bailiff was calling the State of New York v. Herbert Fisher, Stone walked into the courtroom with Herbie in tow. He turned over Herbie to Tony Levy.

“What’s happening?” Levy whispered.

“Keep your mouth shut and let the ADA do the talking,” Stone said.

“Mr. Levy,” Judge Kaplan said, “I guess you want bail continued?”

Levy was about to open his mouth when the ADA, a short woman in a bad suit, spoke up. “Your Honor, this office is dropping all charges against Mr. Fisher at this time.”

Kaplan looked at the young woman askance. “You’re dropping murder two? What’s going on here?”

“This office has learned that the victim died of other causes before Mr. Fisher, ah, intruded on the scene.”

“Well, I never,” Kaplan said.

“Neither did I, Judge,” the ADA replied, “but our information is from a reliable source.”

“Okay, Mr. Fisher, you’re off the hook. Bail will be refunded.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Levy said. He walked Herbie back to the rear of the courtroom where Stone was waiting. “How did you pull that one off, Stone?” he asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Stone replied.

Levy pulled Stone aside. “I believe you owe me five big ones,” he said.

“No, five is your fee for lying to a judge. You didn’t have to do that. I’ll send you a grand today.” He grabbed Herbie and walked him out of the courtroom, leaving Levy to wonder what had just happened.

“Well,” Herbie said, “I’m outta here.”

“Yes, you are,” Stone said. “And if you breathe a word of what Dino told the DA to anybody at all, including your mother, you’re going to find yourself back in this courtroom.”

“Jesus, I love this cloak-and-dagger stuff,” Herbie said. “Tell me what happened in that apartment that night.”

“Herbie,” Stone said, “if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“You gonna have some more work for me soon?” Herbie asked.

“No, Herbie, I’m not.”

“Why not? This one worked out okay, didn’t it?”

“No, Herbie, it didn’t. You nearly went to prison, and you nearly cost me a quarter of a million dollars.”

“But it worked out okay. Nobody got hurt.”

“That’s not what I call working out okay,” Stone said, “and you’ll never know how close you came to getting hurt by me.”

“I’ll give you a ring next week and see what you’ve got for me,” Herbie said hopefully.

“Herbie, if I ever see or hear from you again, I’m going to have a word with the people who dealt with what happened in that apartment, and they’re going to make sure that you never give anybody a ring again.”

Herbie gulped. “You mean . . .”

Stone nodded gravely. “If I were you, I’d be on the next flight to Saint Thomas, and I’d never come back to New York.”

Herbie backed away from him, nodding, then he turned and ran.

Stone hoped the kid could get to the airport without his help.