Family Jewels

39

Stone was a little later than usual getting to his desk; Gala’s early-morning demands had detained him. He got off the elevator and walked into his office. Bob was entertaining a visitor, someone Stone knew he should know, but he could not, for the life of him, come up with a name.

“Good morning,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “Will you excuse me for just a moment? Can I get you some coffee?”

“Of course, and of course,” the man said. He appeared to be in his early fifties, gray-haired, finely tailored.

“I’ll be right back.” Stone closed the door behind him and went into Joan’s office. “Who is that on my sofa?”

“Bob? You know how he loves that sofa.”

“The man, not the dog.”

“I’m sorry, I just got in. Fred must have let him in.”

“He wants coffee. Figure it out.”

Stone sat down at Joan’s desk and slapped his forehead. Who is that guy? he asked himself.

Joan returned. It’s Barnaby Cabot.”

“Any relation to Lance Cabot?”

“Probably. He’s the attorney general.”

“Of New York?”

“Of the United States.”

Stone slapped himself again. “Oh, shit!” He got up and ran for the door. “Sorry about that. How are you, sir?”

“Barney, please. I know we haven’t met, but I prefer informality.”

“As you wish.” Stone sat down. “You and Bob seem to be getting on well.”

“Oh, yes, Labs are my favorites. I grew up with them. I believe we’re neighbors in Dark Harbor.”

Stone had a house there, on the island of Islesboro, in Maine.

“I don’t think I knew that.”

“Oh, we live quietly when we’re there — a little sailing, a little golf, that’s about it.”

“Same for me.” Stone was waiting to be told why the attorney general of the United States was sitting in his office, unannounced.

“I was in the city, and I thought I’d drop by,” Cabot said.

“I’m delighted to see you,” Stone managed to say. He was missing something: Had the man called or written to him? If so, why couldn’t he remember that? Was this what dementia was like?

“Excellent coffee. What is it?”

“Medaglia d’Oro, an Italian espresso roast.”

“Where can I find it?”

“Joan will send you some.”

“Thanks, I’d like that. Justice Department coffee is dreadful stuff.”

“I’ll bet.”

Silence ensued. Finally, Stone couldn’t stand it anymore. “Barney, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, that. Kate asked me to speak to you.”

“Oh, good.” Kate, the President? Kate Smith? Kate Blanchett? No, that one was with a C. “How is Kate?”

“Thriving. I’ve never seen anybody enjoy that office so much.”

“Ah, Kate the President of the United States. “What can I do for her — and you?”

“She has asked me to put together a small ad hoc committee — a very confidential committee — to meet three or four candidates for the Court and give her our assessments.”

“The Supreme Court?”

“That one, yes.”

“I didn’t get to the Times this morning — did someone die?”

“Not yet.”

That stopped Stone in his tracks. A little joke seemed a good idea: “Is someone finally going to shoot one of them?”

That turned out to be a better joke than Stone had intended. Cabot doubled over with laughter, and it took him a moment to get control of himself. He wiped away tears. “Not that I know of, but I’d volunteer!” He doubled over again at his own joke.

I know what it is, Stone thought. I’m still asleep, and this is a bizarre dream.

Cabot took a deep breath and got ahold of himself. “There’s a rumor, I take it, that someone is going to resign. I don’t know who, but Kate, apparently, takes it seriously, and she wants to get a jump on the process. I’ve put together a group of four, and I’m not supposed to tell any of you who else is involved. Kate wants us to meet three people, individually, and talk with her about each of them — nothing in writing. Two of them are women.”

“Oh?”

“And one is a gay man.”

“Am I allowed to know their names?”

“They are Congressman Terrence Maher, Senator Marisa Bond, and the United States attorney for the Southern District of New York, Tiffany Baldwin.”

Stone hoped he didn’t wince at the mention of Tiffany’s name. He had had a fling with the woman some years ago, and she periodically tried to relight the flame. He was terrified of her.

“Do you know any of them?”

“I know Maher and Bond from their television appearances, but I haven’t met them. I’m acquainted with Baldwin.”

“And?”

“And I avoid her, when possible.”

“You don’t get along, then?”

“I don’t see her often enough for that to come up.”

“Ah.”

Yes, Ah.

Cabot rummaged in his briefcase and came up with three files. “Here is background on each of them. It’s quite thorough and contains some materials from FBI files, so the files are, of course, quite confidential. Each of the candidates will call your office and make an appointment.”

Cabot hadn’t inquired if Stone would do it; he had, rightly, assumed that any friend of Kate Lee would help if he could.

“Well, my car is waiting,” Cabot said, getting to his feet and disturbing Bob, whose head was in his lap.

“Joan will brush you off,” Stone said. “She’s used to it.”

“Thank you for seeing me.” The two men shook hands.

“Kate will call you in a week or so to hear your impressions.”

“I’ll look forward to speaking with her.”

The man left, and Stone buzzed Joan. “Three people are going to call for appointments: Congressman Terrence Maher, Senator Marisa Bond, and fucking Tiffany Baldwin.”

Joan burst out laughing.

“I’ll see the first two here or wherever they like in the city. I’ll meet Tiffany somewhere cozy, like the middle of Grand Central Station. I do not, repeat not, wish to be alone in any room with her.”

“Got it, boss.”

“And send the attorney general a dozen cans of Medaglia d’Oro.”

“Right.”