Fast and Loose

32

Stone was having lunch in the Strategic Services restaurant, Safe House, with Charley Fox.

“How’d the raid go?” Charley asked.

“As expected,” Stone said. “They got the will, and the DA has it now. I hear he has forwarded it to the Bar Association and to the chairman of the board of St. Clair. Now we just wait for the explosions. If we’re lucky, you’ll be able to hear them in your office with the doors and windows closed.”

“I would enjoy that,” Charley said. “Now, my turn. After a few conversations, we have an agreement in principle for the investments in DigiFlood and Automobile Butler. I’ve spoken to Herb Fisher, and he’s at work on the contracts.”

“That went well!”

“Yes, it did. I want to send out a press release that combines the news of the investments and the forming of Triangle and my appointment as president. That okay with you and Mike?”

“Sure. A nice piece in the Journal and the Times will probably invite new opportunities for investment.”

“That would be good. I’m going to need seventy million in cash to close these two deals.”

“I’ll get on that. It should be in the Triangle account in a few days.”

“How much capital do we have access to? I need to know so that I can have intelligent conversations with prospects.”

“I think we can manage half a billion from our various sources, so for the moment, use that as a ceiling.”

“Will it all come from you and Mike Freeman?”

“These first two deals will. As we need more cash, I can call on Marcel duBois, in Paris, and a client of mine named Laurence Hayward.”

“I know who duBois is — the Warren Buffett of Europe. Who’s Hayward?”

“He won six hundred and twelve million in the lottery a few months ago.”

“Ah, yes, I read about that in the papers.”

“The good news is, he hasn’t spent it all yet, and he’s looking for investments.”

“I’ll be happy to help him.”

A few days later, Erik Macher sat down at his desk in rather good spirits. He had spent a couple of nice days on the yacht with a girl, and since the raid, nothing terrible had happened.

He found the Wall Street Journal and the Times on his desk, and he was alarmed to see a photograph of Charles Fox staring up at him from the front page of the Journal. He grabbed the paper and began to read the article.

Jake Herman had the misfortune to rap on Macher’s office door at that very moment. He made to withdraw, but Macher had spotted him. “Get in here!” he yelled.

Jake crossed the twenty feet to Macher’s desk cautiously, then took a seat, largely because his knees were weak.

“Have you seen this?” Macher demanded, slapping the Journal.

“Seen what?” Jake asked weakly.

“That fucking Fox!”

“What about him?”

“He’s stolen the two companies we were going to bid on!”

“How could he do that?”

“With money! It says here that he’s formed a new investment partnership called Triangle Partnership, and that he’s backed by Strategic Services, the big security company, and Stone Barrington, a partner at Woodman & Weld!”

“That’s very bad news, Erik. How can I help?” Jake very much hoped that would be a rhetorical question, but he was disappointed.

Macher got up and closed his office door, then returned and sat down at his desk. He stared at the leather tooling before him for a long moment before he spoke. “Jake,” he said, in a low, earnest voice, “I want Fox dead.”

Oh, Jesus, Jake thought. He had been afraid it might come to this, but it turned out to be worse.

“Barrington, too,” Macher said.

“Erik,” Jake said in his calmest possible voice, “one hit is a difficult enough thing. Two hits is almost certainly a one-way ticket to Sing Sing.” He paused before adding, “For both of us.”

Macher began blinking rapidly, always a bad sign. “It’s worth the risk for me,” he said.

Jake drew himself up to his full, seated height. “In that case, Erik, you knock them off. I work for you, but I’m not going to prison for you.”

Macher stopped blinking, giving Jake hope. “You’re right, Jake, it’s too much to ask.”

Jake discovered that he had been holding his breath, and he exhaled in a rush. “I’m glad you see that, Erik.”

“Jake, what I need now is a partner whose loyalty to me is unquestioned, and it’s beginning to appear that you are not that partner.”

“Erik, I think that all my obligations to you are outlined in my employment agreement, and there’s nothing in it that covers murder.” Now he was afraid to inhale.

“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear, Jake. I viewed my request as something above and beyond your employment agreement, something that would require a substantial under-the-table, and therefore tax-free, payment.”

Jake breathed again. “And what did you have in mind, Erik?”

“I was thinking of a quarter of a million dollars, in cash.”

“That’s an attractive number, Erik, if it’s a quarter of a million each.”

Macher began blinking rapidly again, but then he relaxed. “All right,” he said.

It’s not as if it were your money, Jake thought. “And it’s very unlikely that I’ll be able to do them both at the same time.” He paused for effect. “However, I’ll give it some thought.”

“Of course, Jake, this is a business that requires careful planning, both in the execution and the follow-up.”

“Follow-up?”

“By that I mean, there must be no evidence connecting me or the company to the occurrence. We also have to consider where I would be when it happens.”

“Out of town, I expect.”

“Of course.”

Macher’s secretary knocked on the door and entered, an envelope in her hand. “This just came for you, hand-delivered,” she said.

Macher gazed at the envelope as if trying to divine its contents. Finally, he opened it and read the enclosed letter.

“Is something wrong, Erik?”

“The chairman of the board has called an emergency meeting of the board for ten AM tomorrow, in this office,” Macher said.

“What kind of emergency?”

“It doesn’t say.”

Macher picked up the phone. “Get me Tommy Berenson at his law office,” he said.

She came back a moment later. “I’m sorry, Mr. Macher, but the woman who answered — she wasn’t his secretary — said that Mr. Berenson is not in and not expected.”

“Thank you,” Macher said.

“Do you have any idea what this is about, Erik?” Jake asked.

“No, but you and I have to put together some names for board memberships. New names.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to fire the board before ten AM tomorrow.”