Strategic Moves

THIRTY-FIVE

Stone was at his desk when Mike Freeman called.

“Good morning, Mike.”

“Good morning, Stone. I spoke to Lance Cabot a few minutes ago, and he was hinting that Strategic Services should pay for the hard landing his Mercedes experienced. He and I had only a verbal agreement about the trip we made for them, except for the charter agreement, which is in writing.”

“Does the charter agreement say anything about responsibility for equipment belonging to the charter company?”

“No,” Mike replied.

“Good. The other thing to look at is the terms of your verbal agreement. Did anything in your conversation with Lance mention your being in charge of the extractee or any cargo aboard the aircraft?”

“No, there was no mention of it. He told me that two of his people would be aboard the aircraft and would take charge of Pablo.”

“Then it appears that you have no liability for Pablo’s actions. The cargo, including the Mercedes, was government property and was put aboard by government employees, so no liability there, unless you actually caused damage to it, which you did not. I think you’re in the clear, and that’s certainly the attitude you should adopt in dealing with Lance.”

“Good. I feel better already.”

“Nor should the gentleman in Rye who owns the pool have any claim against you.”

“Even better.”

“If Lance gives you a hard time, just refer him to me.”

“I’ll do that. Lance hinted that Pablo did not escape his clutches.”

“Pablo did escape his clutches, but he will be speaking to Lance and his colleagues soon.”

“Voluntarily?”

“Yes, and under mutually agreed-upon terms.”

“So we have an ultimately successful conclusion to our mission?”

“It would seem so, but let’s wait until everything is concluded before feeling relief. Your portion of the mission would seem to be complete, though, unless there’s something else you agreed to with Lance that hasn’t been done.”

“No, our mission was to pick up the cargo in Iraq, the extractee at a specified location, and deliver them to Stewart International.”

“Well, I’ll handle the final delivery of Pablo part, except for the car.”

“The stuff on TV has been hilarious,” Mike said. “I’ve had trouble keeping a straight face when talking to Lance.”

“Hang on to that straight face, Mike; Lance is not amused.”

“Will do.”

“By the way, I had a call from Stephanie Gunn Fisher, and she mentioned that you had withdrawn your funds from the Gunn company.”

“Yes, and it’s safe elsewhere. Did you take your money out?”

“I never put it in, fortunately.”

“I’m relieved to have ours out. What’s going to happen there?”

“Who knows? They seem to have come through their audit in good shape, though.”

“Talk to you later,” Mike said, and hung up.

Joan buzzed him. “Dino is holding on two.”

Stone pushed the button. “Hey, Dino.”

“It was fun last night watching you and Eggers go at it.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“Something you said struck me.”

“What was that?”

“When he asked you who you were going out with.”

“Well, yeah.”

“First time I’ve ever known you to be without at least one woman on the available list.”

“It’s certainly a dry spell,” Stone admitted.

“You want a date tonight?”

“You mean with somebody besides you?”

“I’ve been seeing this assistant DA lately.”

“You sly dog; you never said a word.”

“Her name’s Doris Trent.”

“Sounds like an old soap opera.”

“Maybe, but she’s pretty nice.”

“Are you offering me your girl, Dino?”

“Certainly not. She has a friend.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I hear she’s all right. What the hell, you might like her. Her name is Willa Crane.”

“Oh, all right. Where are we dining?”

“I thought maybe the Park Avenue Café.”

“Sounds good.”

“I thought we’d come to you at seven for a drink, give you a chance to impress the lady with your good taste, then dine at eight.”

“All right. I’ll get Helene to do us some of her hors d’oeuvres.”

“See you then.”

Later, Stone showered and got into a suit and necktie, because he knew that’s what Dino would wear, then he went downstairs to the library.

Helene, as requested, had laid out some things to nibble on and had placed a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Grande Dame champagne in a silver ice bucket. Stone removed the plastic wrap from the tray and tossed it, then got some champagne flutes from the bar cabinet. At ten past seven, the doorbell rang. Stone picked up the phone and pressed the electric unlock. “Come in,” he said.

He walked to the living room and waited for the elevator to stop, then open. Dino emerged with two women: one was very small and cute; the other was tall and, Stone had to admit to himself, drop-dead gorgeous, with long, straight black hair, dressed in a black-and-white sheath that reminded him of a pinto pony. He held his breath while introductions were made.

“Stone Barrington, this is Doris Trent,” Dino said, indicating the small one.

Stone heaved a sigh of relief. “Hello, Doris.”

“And this is Willa Crane,” Dino concluded.

Stone shook her hand. “Hello, Willa,” he said. “Please come into the library.” He led them into the next room, seated them, and began to open the champagne. “Would anyone like anything else besides champagne?” he asked.

Heads were shaken. He popped the cork and poured, then set the tray of food on the coffee table and took a good look at Ms. Crane, wondering about her.

He took a glass for himself and sat down next to her. “Willa, what do you do?”

“I’m a deputy district attorney,” she said.

Deputy. That meant she was a career prosecutor and senior in the office. He supposed she was thirty-five.

“Tried anyone interesting lately?”

“Well,” she said, “I thought about prosecuting a client of yours, but I haven’t decided yet.”

“Uh-oh,” Stone said. “I hope we’re not headed toward a conflict of interest here.”

“You can hope,” she said, sipping her champagne.