Foul Play

Eleven

Stone was at his desk the following morning when Fred came into the office. “The president has departed,” Fred announced.

“I know. We said our goodbyes a bit earlier.”

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes,” Stone replied. “Please have a seat.”

Fred looked a bit alarmed. “Something I’ve said or done?” he asked. “Last night, perhaps?”

“No, Fred, nothing like that. You always conduct yourself correctly.”

“I’m relieved you think so, sir,” he said, sounding relieved.

“I do. About last night: What did you make of the two armed men who got out of the black car?”

Fred gazed off into the middle distance, as if a photograph of the men were being projected onto an unseen screen. “Six-three, two forty, mostly muscle. Not twins, but perhaps brothers; accustomed to dispensing violence, but not receiving it. I believe that one of them — take your pick — was the man you dispatched with your umbrella during that thunderstorm that gave us Mr. Troutman.”

“Unaccustomed to receiving violence, you said?”

Fred nodded. “One more accustomed to being struck would have relieved you of that umbrella and stuck it up your arse — you should kindly excuse the expression.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, should we meet again.”

“Oh, I believe you will meet again, sir. Last night’s instance convinced me of that. They were delivered to that place by the black Mercedes S550, which waited to collect them when their task was done.”

“And their task?”

“To deal with you, sir.”

“Not Mr. Troutman?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Fred said quickly. “They didn’t appear from the direction from which he came. It appeared as though they had followed the Bentley. When they emerged, they took a close look at it, presumably to verify it was your car. No, I’m convinced you were the target. Mr. Troutman was likely a distraction, stumbled upon while he awaited your arrival. Had they made their point last evening, you would have been fortunate that neither of them was carrying an umbrella.”

“Ah, um... and you think they’ll try again.”

“Oh, yes, sir. Between the two of us we’ve ruined their evening twice. I think they’ll have been quite annoyed at that. I would suggest that you go armed at all times for a while, and that I accompany you for, ah, accuracy.”

Fred was a two-time Royal Marine pistol champion, Stone reflected, and he, himself, was not. “Suggestion accepted,” he said.

“And no strolls, sir. We’ll take the Bentley. I mean to say, sir, the Bentley is armored, and you are not.”

“Point taken.”

“May I persuade you to wear that very nice armor vest that you never wear when you should? I know it ruins the line of your jackets, but nevertheless—”

“I’ll think about it,” Stone said, cutting him off. “Any thoughts on why they chose me for a beating? Twice?”

“Well, the first time you were carefully chosen — perhaps their employer bears some sort of grudge. Anyone like that in your recent past, sir?”

“I’ll think about that, too. And last night?”

“Because they failed the first time.”

“And why the simultaneous, apparently random attack on the West Side?”

“I think ‘apparently’ is the key word there. A distraction, I expect.”

“All right, Fred, I’ll mull over all that, and you and I will travel in tandem for a while. Good morning.”

Fred nodded and left.

Stone picked up his phone and called Dino.

“Bacchetti.”

“I’ve just had a chat with Fred,” Stone said. “He has a number of opinions about last night.” He enumerated them.

“Sounds about right to me,” Dino said. “Somebody is always pissed off at you. It’s something in your manner.”

“Are you saying that I come off as superior?”

“No, more as a superior asshole,” Dino said. “Not always, though. You’re quite charming with women. I watched your performance with Brooke last night, and I admired it.”

“I was mostly on the receiving end of that one,” Stone admitted.

“Have you called her, yet?”

“No, the chopper has not even cleared the pad, yet. I’ll have to restrain myself a little longer.”

Joan buzzed. “A Ms. Alley, on two.”

“Got it,” Stone said. “Dino, I’ll call you back.” He hung up and pushed line two. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she said. “As the bootleggers used to say, ‘Is the coast clear?’ ”

“Barely,” Stone replied.

“Can I buy you dinner tonight?”

“No, but I’ll buy you dinner.”

“Shall we meet at Caravaggio, at seven-thirty?”

“We shall.”

“I’ll wear another low-cut dress,” she said. “You seemed to so appreciate the one last evening.”

“I’m a connoisseur of décolletage,” he replied, “and I’ll look forward to a new experience.”

“Until seven-thirty, then.”

“Confirmed.” He hung up and called Dino.

“Bacchetti.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It was Brooke, right?”

“It was.”

“I guess she couldn’t restrain herself any longer.”

“Either that, or she has a spy at the East Side heliport.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Neither would I.”

“Now, to this other business of last night — the one with the armed muscle. Do you agree with Fred’s analysis of the situation?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t have a better idea, so I’ll take his recommendations for the time being.”

“Where are you dining?”

“Caravaggio. Her choice.”

“Oh, good, there’ll be a mobster or two there, and that tends to quell small arms fire. Shooters don’t like being shot back at.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I think you might be right.”

“Might be right?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Would you like Viv and me across the room for backup?”

“Fred will be on the job. Besides, Viv will know what happens before I do.”

“She’s like that,” Dino said.