Distant Thunder

9

After lunch, Stone got up from his desk, used the toilet, then returned, to find Lance Cabot sitting across from him. “Good afternoon,” he said.

“Good afternoon, Lance. Have you had lunch? Can we offer you a sandwich?”

“Thank you, no. I had a taco from a street vendor.”

“Can we get you a Pepto-Bismol?”

“Not yet. I’ll keep you posted. Stone, why didn’t you tell me that you and John Collins were friends in law school?”

“Because I learned that he was at NYU only when reading the Times death notice this morning. And when he was there, I didn’t know him.”

“You never bought grass from him?”

“I’ve never bought grass from anyone — except once, when a girlfriend wanted to bake me brownies, then she bought it, and I reimbursed her. Tell me, Lance, why didn’t you mention at the outset that not only did you know Collins, but he was your creature?”

“That’s putting it rather too strongly,” Lance said.

“How many years did he serve in the Agency?”

“Nine.”

“Were you his supervisor for all of that time?”

“Most of it.”

“Then how was he not your creature? And, to skip down a bit, why did you litter the Maine ferry service and my garage with his corpse?”

“He got himself onto that ferry, and the Maine State Police got him into your garage.”

“What was he doing in Maine, if not at your bidding?”

“That’s a need-to-know thing, and you do not need to know.”

“That’s funny, because people are coming out of the woodwork who think that not only do I need to know, but that I do know.”

“They don’t need to know, either.”

“Perhaps it would be best if I just dictated to Joan an account of my experience with Officer Collins and let her distribute it to the press, the wire services, and whoever comes into my office.”

“That would compromise an important operation, now running.”

“Why? Most of what I know and a few things I didn’t know were published this morning in the New York Times.”

“All right, what do you want to know?”

“Everything I don’t already know.”

“I’m not ready to brief you on that operation yet.”

“Do I have that to look forward to, or should I just deny all knowledge of Collins?”

“It’s not necessary for you to deny all knowledge.”

“You may tell me these things in confidence, then I would be bound by the attorney-client privilege.”

“Whose attorney are you?”

“Yours and, willy-nilly, Mr. Collins’s.”

“I suppose you are, aren’t you?”

“Asked and answered, a condition that does not extend to you.”

“I will answer you when I can.”

“You mean, when it’s convenient.”

“That, too.”

“Now, tell me why you are in my office, declining my sandwiches and my Pepto-Bismol.”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Lance replied.

“Why don’t you take a stroll in the Turtle Bay Gardens, out back? It’s lovely this time of year.”

“Why?”

“Then I can lock the door behind you.”

“I have your key,” Lance said.

“Why did I give you a key to my house?”

“You didn’t. I fabricated it.”

“May I have it back, please?”

“No. I may need to get in on another occasion.”

“Is someone pursuing you?”

“Usually,” Lance replied. “Ah!” He cupped a hand to his ear. “I hear my car. I’ll go now.” Then he did.

Stone was going to tell Joan to lock him out, then he recalled that it wouldn’t do any good.