Sex, Lies & Serious Money

7

They took advantage of the lovely weather and walked down to Patroon, Stone’s favorite restaurant since Elaine Kaufman’s death and the subsequent closing of Elaine’s a few months later.

“With whom are we dining?” Laurence asked.

“With Dino Bacchetti and his wife, Vivian. Dino and I were partners on the NYPD a long time ago. He is now the police commissioner of New York City. Viv is the chief operating officer of Strategic Services, the second-largest security company in the world.”

“You were a policeman?”

“I was. Joined right after law school and stayed until they used a gunshot wound to the knee as an excuse to retire me. Dino stayed on and did well. A friend suggested I cram for the bar exam and join his firm, Woodman & Weld, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Who are your biggest clients there?”

“Strategic Services, the Steele Insurance group, and the Arrington Hotels Group, on the boards of which I sit. And you.”

“I’m your fourth biggest client?”

“You’re my biggest client — personal not business.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Stone.”

“So am I. Thank you for calling me. I’ll have to send Dicky Chalmers a case of very good wine.”

“I’ll find him something, too, when I do more shopping.”

They reached the restaurant and were greeted by the owner, Ken Aretsky, and introductions were made.

“Take good care of Laurence,” Stone said, sotto voce, as he passed. “He’ll be a good customer.”

“Certainly,” Ken said.

Dino and Viv were already seated at the table, and Stone introduced everybody. They ordered drinks, which arrived swiftly.

“Laurence,” Stone said, “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve broken my promise to guard your anonymity. I’ve told Dino and Viv all about what’s happened, because they can be of future help to you. At some point you may need the help of Strategic Services, and that’s Viv, and Dino is just somebody who’s good to know.”

“I’m fine with that,” Laurence said. “You are forgiven.” He made the sign of the cross, and everybody laughed.

They looked at menus and ended up ordering a platter of beef chateaubriand for the table. Ken brought complimentary canapés.

“I hear you’ve bought an apartment, Laurence,” Viv said.

“That’s correct. Moving in tomorrow. Thank you, Stone, for the shelter, but you won’t have to put up with me any longer.”

“You’re always welcome, Laurence.”

“Did you bring any furnishings with you?” Viv asked.

“One small bag of clothes, which I introduced to a dumpster this afternoon. I’m starting from scratch, at least in New York.”

“Have you had any problems with being recognized and hounded?” Dino asked.

“Only in West Palm Beach at the lottery office, and then my first New York cabdriver caught me in his mirror. Stone suggested a shave and a haircut, and no one has made me since.”

“A clean shave is a good disguise these days,” Dino said. “I understand you’ve spent most of your life in England and that you’re a master at Eton.”

“An assistant master, though I have hope of a promotion. I’m on a leave of absence right now, but I’m going to have to give a lot of thought to whether I’ll stay there after what’s happened.”

“Do you still have a home there?”

“Yes, I live in a small cottage on a lovely little estate in Berkshire owned by my stepfather. It’s a short drive to Eton, where the college offered me only a room. Masters get flats or houses. My parents have a house in London, too, and I have a room there.”

“Sounds like you’re well stocked with real estate.”

“Yes. Also, I inherited my father’s house in Palm Beach. I had planned to sell it, but there’s no need to now.”

“Tell me, Laurence,” Dino said, “has Stone given you the lecture yet?”

“You mean, ‘don’t spend it all in one place’?”

Dino smiled. “No. Let me put it this way — you seem like a bright fellow, but do you have any street smarts?”

“London and Berkshire street smarts, yes, New York City street smarts, no — sadly deficient there.”

“New York is a tough town, and I don’t mean the muggers, which we keep under control. I mean predators of a different sort.”

“What sort?”

“All sorts. For instance, though you’re not aware of it yet, there are people around town who are already looking for you.”

Laurence looked alarmed. “What sort of people?”

“They like to call themselves journalists these days, but they’re the same gossipmongers that have been around since newspapers came along. It goes like this — the cabdriver who recognized you probably has such a connection, and he’s made himself fifty or a hundred bucks by telling that connection that the Powerball zillionaire is in town. It would not surprise me if someone offered a reward for news of your whereabouts. You could very well soon be the subject of a manhunt.”

“What an awful thought,” Laurence said. “The London papers are like that, too.”

“In what name did you win the lottery?”

“L. B. Hayward.”

“That won’t throw them off the scent for long,” Dino said. “Is anyone living in your father’s house?”

“No, a cleaning lady comes every day.”

“Prepare to get a call saying the house has been broken into.”

“You think it will be burgled because there’s nobody living there?”

“No, I think some private eye, working for a tabloid, will break in and start looking for evidence of your whereabouts.”

“What sort of evidence?”

“Anything with your name on it — checkbook, your father’s checkbook, family photos, address books — anything. My point is, you’re not going to be anonymous in New York for very long.”

“There’s nothing in the house that would locate me,” Laurence said. “When I left I didn’t have another residence in this country.”

“Might they track you to England with what they find in the house?”

Laurence thought about it. “Yes,” he said. “There are letters from me to my father with my return address on them.”

“We bought the apartments in a corporate name,” Stone said.

Viv spoke up. “That will help. Do you think the real estate agent twigged?”

“No,” Stone said, “but if she starts reading about Laurence in the tabloids, her discretion might be taxed.”

“There’s another kind of predator you have to worry about, too,” Dino said. “The financial kind. These people won’t need to read about you in the papers, they’ll see you going in and out of the Fairleigh, in and out of your car, in and out of restaurants, and, the way you look and dress, you might as well have the word ‘mark’ tattooed on your forehead.”

“What do you suggest I do?” Laurence asked.

“Get out of town.”

“Back to Palm Beach?”

“Oh, no, somewhere you’re not known, maybe someplace abroad you’ve always wanted to go.”

Laurence said, “A place comes to mind. Stone, I haven’t had a chance to tell you about this yet, but I’ve been talking with the Florida sales director of Cessna, a Mr. Hayes, and he tells me that he’s had the cancellation of a sale, due to a death, of a CJ 3 Plus. It’s loaded with equipment and has a nice paint scheme.”

“When would it be delivered?”

“In three weeks, and I’ll need sixteen days of training to get a 525 type rating — in Wichita, Kansas. Is that far enough away, Dino?”

“Wichita is as far as you can get from everywhere,” Dino said, smiling.

“And you’ll be in the classroom and simulator eight or ten hours a day,” Stone pointed out. “You’ll be too exhausted to go out at night.”

“Then I think I’ll kill two birds with one stone,” Laurence said.

“Let me negotiate the sale for you. I know David Hayes from past dealings.”

“That’s his name.”

“I’ll call him tomorrow. You book your training slot at Flight Safety. You’re going to need a mentor pilot for a while, too.”

“How long?”

“Thirty to fifty hours, depending on how precocious you are. I have a friend named Pat Frank who started an aircraft management business a couple of years ago. She’ll find you just the right mentor. Also, she’ll manage the airplane for you. There’s quite a lot of paperwork and maintenance records. She can make it painless.”

“Does she manage your airplane?”

“Yes.”

“Then she’s good enough for me.” He looked a little embarrassed. “There’s something else you’ll need to negotiate with David Hayes.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to buy a Citation Latitude, too.”

“That’s a big jump up in airplanes from the CJ 3 Plus.”

“It is, but I can fly nonstop transatlantic in it.”

“Ah, yes. Do you plan to train in that, too?”

“Eventually, but it’s going to be nine months before I can take delivery, so I can build time in the CJ 3 Plus while I’m waiting for it, and Hayes said it might be possible to work out a deal where I trade in the CJ for the Latitude.”

“That should improve your deal,” Stone said. “I’ll call him tomorrow. And you should probably schedule time, after delivery, at Flight Safety for the Latitude training. Since the Latitude is not a single-pilot airplane, you’re going to need to hire another pilot or two, as well, but Pat Frank can find those people for you.”

“Good.”

“Laurence,” Viv said, “I understand that you can become very English at the drop of a hat.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then you have another disguise at your disposal — become English in America for a while.”

“Jolly good idea,” Laurence said, in his best, broad Eton/Oxford accent.