Insatiable Appetites

15

Stone was at his desk the following morning, working on the Bianchi estate financial statement, prior to giving it to the accountants to help them prepare a final tax return for Eduardo and an estate tax return.

Joan buzzed. “There’s a guy on the phone who says he has some important information for you, but he won’t give his name.”

“How crazy does he sound?”

“Not very.”

“Oh, all right.” He pressed the other line button. “This is Stone Barrington. Who’s this?”

“I can’t tell you that now, Mr. Barrington — maybe later. A meeting took place last night in Washington, and what was discussed there has shocked me to the core.”

“What kind of meeting?”

“I guess you could call it a strategy session,” the man said.

“Who attended?”

“About two dozen Republican senators and congressmen. It was held at a private residence in Georgetown.”

“Were you there?”

There was a long pause. “Let’s just say that I have an intimate knowledge of what was discussed.”

“What was discussed?”

“Henry Carson was the de facto chairman. He shared the chair with the about-to-become-former Speaker of the House. These people are extremely angry about losing the presidency and furious about not having control of either House.”

“Are you a Republican, Mr...?”

“I’d rather not say which party I belong to.”

“Go on, tell me what transpired.”

“Carson spoke to the group, and he was right up front. He said the party strategy in Congress would be to oppose and obstruct — he actually used those words — every bill that was introduced by the new administration, and they would issue talking points to the group about what to say to the press and media when the new administration announced policy initiatives.”

“Every bill? Every policy? No matter what?”

“Every single one. They said they would find ways to peck to death any bill or policy. The rationale for each set of talking points will be created and laid out in the circulated memo.”

“Well, that shocks me, too,” Stone said. “They don’t even know what policy initiatives she’s going to issue.”

“They can guess from Mrs. Lee’s campaign speeches.”

“What do you want me to do with this information?” Stone asked.

“I want you to get it into the press and media. I want to create a big to-do about this, and I want to blunt their tactics.”

“Those are noble aims,” Stone said, “but you’re going about this in the wrong way.”

“Then how should I go about it?”

“Do you have a pencil?” Stone rummaged in a desk drawer for a business card.

“Yes.”

“Write down this name and number: Carla Fontana. She’s the Washington bureau chief for the New York Times.” He gave the man a number. “That is her private cell number. She’s in a position to do what you’re suggesting, but you have to understand, she’s going to have to know who she’s dealing with.”

“I’m afraid of talking to someone like that on the phone,” the man said.

“Then do this: go to an electronics store and buy two pre-paid cell phones. Mail her one with a note saying you will call her at a specified hour, and that if she takes your call, you’ll have a major story for her. The phones will be untraceable, and if you’re worried about taps, you can always throw them away and buy new ones.”

“That sounds good.”

“But she’s going to need to know your identity. Will she recognize your name?”

“Probably.”

“My advice is to be straight with her — don’t lie to her and don’t conceal your identity from her. She has to trust you if this is going to work.”

“May I tell her you referred me to her?”

Stone thought about that. “Yes, but tell her I don’t know who you are.”

“All right.”

“One more thing,” Stone said. “I’m glad you’re being careful, but are you doing that because you fear some retribution? If they find out, will they destroy your career?”

“If they find out, they may destroy more than that.”

“What does that mean?”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Barrington.” The man hung up.

Stone was left staring at his phone.