Foul Play

Thirty-Nine

Stone called Mike Freeman.

“Good morning, and welcome back.”

“I had a visit from Gregor Kronk this morning.”

“I thought he was still in Massachusetts.”

“So did I.”

“What did he want?”

“Two things: the patents and Shep Troutman’s head,” Stone said. “We’ve got to review and reconstruct Shep’s security, and we’ve got to get him out of the Vineyard and keep him out of Massachusetts.”

“How soon?” Mike asked.

“Before Kronk figures out how many times I’ve lied to him.”

“You could fly the lot of them to your house in England.”

“I think if you googled me, that house would turn up, first thing. I’ve hidden there too often.”

“Key West?”

“Too hot, and the house is too small to hold everybody in comfort.”

“The Paris house?”

“Too small.”

“Your house in L.A. is infinitely expandable.” Mike spoke of the house Stone had built for his late wife, Arrington, when he had sold her property there to build the Arrington Hotel. She had not survived to see it.

“That’s a good point,” Stone said. A green light flashed on his phone. “Hold on, please.” He picked it up. “Yes?”

“The queen is on line one.”

Stone told Mike he’d get back to him later, then pressed the button. “Yes?”

“This is the White House operator. Will you accept a call from the president of the United States?”

“Of course.”

A click. “Hello there. Where are you these days?”

“In New York. I just got in from a few days on Martha’s Vineyard.”

“That sounds pleasant.”

“Believe me, it was mostly work.”

“Where are you for the next few days?”

“I’ll be in L.A. tomorrow. How about you?”

“I think it would be nice if I were in L.A., too,” she said. “I have a speech to make there, but I can tack on a couple of days without getting impeached, I think.”

“Then I will look forward to seeing you.”

“You will be alone, then?”

“I’ll have two male guests, clients.”

“Then we’ll meet at the guest cottage between the houses.”

“Perfect. Dinner tomorrow night, in the cottage?”

“Perfect, indeed. Looking forward.” She hung up.

Stone buzzed for Joan. “I’m off to L.A. in the morning. Let Faith know, so she can assemble a crew. We’ll need the G-500, wheels up at nine am. First stop, Martha’s Vineyard, next stop Burbank.”

“Done,” she said.

“Also, I’m going to need ten double rooms in the hotel for security people.”

“Your wish, etcetera, etcetera.” She hung up.

Stone called Mike Freeman back. “Okay, L.A. is on. I’ve booked ten double rooms for your people. Shep and Rod can stay at my house. We’ll pick them up at the Vineyard airport at ten am tomorrow. Let Doug know.”

“We’re going to need another airplane for my people and their equipment. I’ll get our L.A. office started on setting up communications today.”

“Okay, give me a few minutes to break the news to Shep.” They both hung up.

Stone messaged Shep: Call me back on a secure line.

A couple of minutes later, Shep was on the phone.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Not great. Have you had any problems there?”

“Not yet, but everybody is pretty tense.”

“Neither you nor Rod is safe at that location any longer, so we’re moving you both tomorrow. You can shut down that house. Doug will have you at the airport at ten am, where my Gulfstream will pick you up. I’ll be aboard.”

“This is a royal pain in the ass,” Shep said. “Where are we going?”

“I’m not going to tell you. You’ll know when you arrive. Don’t worry, the surroundings will be more pleasant there than they have been at your present location.”

“I’m not sure Dad is going to buy this.”

“Tell him the alternative is to be sedated and crated for shipment, and not to speak a word of this to the staff there or anyone else.”

“Oh, all right.”

“And keep your cell phones turned off. We don’t want you tracked.”

“I understand, but Dad won’t. He hates flying.”

“Tell him, if you must, that he will be aboard the most comfortable airplane on earth.”

“Is that true?”

“Almost.” Stone hung up.

Dino called. “Dinner tonight?”

“Sure.”

“P.J.’s at seven?”

“Done. I’m off again tomorrow. We have to relocate Shep and Rod.”

“Where?”

“Tell you later.” Stone hung up.

They were halfway to P. J. Clarke’s when Fred said, “Excuse me, sir. We’re being followed.”

“By what?”

“A van. Maybe another vehicle, as well.”

“Shit,” Stone said.

Dino was already at the table when he arrived. “Tell your people I was followed here.”

“You want your tail rousted?”

“That would be very satisfying. There’s a van and maybe one other vehicle.”

Dino spoke a few lines into his phone, then hung up. “They’re about to get a lesson in NYPD etiquette.”

A drink was brought for Stone, and menus.

“So, now can you tell me where you’re off to?”

Stone drew invisible letters on the tablecloth.

“Gotcha.”

“Want to go along?”

“Can’t do it. I’m getting ragged about my Vineyard tan, this time by the mayor. I need to be seen at my desk, even if others are doing the work.”

“I can appreciate your need to be seen hard at work,” Stone said.

One of Dino’s men came to the table. “We have a van and an SUV and four men in custody. What do you want them charged with?”

“I’m sure they’ve violated some traffic ordinance or other,” Dino said. “Just see that they’re housed overnight. No phone calls.”

“If you can hold them until, say, noon tomorrow,” Stone said, “that would be very helpful.”

“The NYPD is all about helpful,” Dino said.