Strategic Moves

FIVE

Stone arrived at Strategic Services, and the receptionist sent him in to Mike Freeman straightaway. Mike had moved into Jim Hackett’s old office.

“Sit down, Stone,” Freeman said. “I’m going to place a conference call to London, Tel Aviv, and Hong Kong in just a minute, but I wanted to talk to you first. What do you know about the Jack Gunn arrest?”

“Just what I’ve read in the papers,” Stone said. “I attended his daughter’s wedding last night—his new son-in-law is a client of mine. I’d never met Gunn before.”

“Jim Hackett was a good friend of Gunn’s; it was Jim who invested the firm’s money with him.”

“You said ten million. What part of your cash reserves does that represent?”

“Only a small part; we’re sitting on over half a billion in cash.”

“Well, that’s good. Have you checked your insurance policies?”

“What insurance policies?”

“In your corporate portfolio you may have something that protects corporate funds from theft.”

Freeman pressed a button on his phone. “Get me the legal department, an insurance specialist.”

“I’ll get right back to you,” his secretary said.

“It would certainly make things simpler if we’re covered for that,” Freeman said.

“Mike, I have to tell you that I had a call from Bill Eggers on the way over. He’s meeting with Gunn’s corporate counsel, a man named Leighton Craft, this afternoon to discuss the firm’s representing Gunn, and he wants me to help handle that.”

“Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest, since you represent us?”

“If it looks that way, we can seal me off from any contact with the representation of Gunn,” Stone explained, “but I understand that Gunn’s position is that he’s innocent of any wrongdoing and is cooperating with the U.S. Attorney.”

“Not like the Madoff thing, huh?”

“I hope not. Bill wants me at the first meeting this afternoon. I’ll need to look into this some more, to be sure there’s no conflict, but in any case, my first loyalty is to Strategic Services.”

Stone’s cell phone buzzed, and he looked at it. “It’s Eggers. I’d better take this.” He got up and walked across the room. “Yes, Bill?”

“Stone, I’m going to seal you off from the Gunn representation. I don’t want it to interfere with your representation of Strategic Services, and you should tell Mike Freeman that I can’t work on his account until the Gunn thing is cleared up, which could be some time.”

“I understand, Bill.”

“This means you’re going to have to handle the Strategic Services account without consulting me. Most of the rest of the firm will be available to you, if you need help.”

“Thanks, I’ll let Mike know.” Stone hung up and returned to his seat. “I’m all yours,” Stone said.

“Good.”

“But Bill is going to have to be absent from your account while he’s dealing with the Gunn thing.”

“I understand.”

“Have you made any attempt to move your investments from Gunn to another firm?”

“Not yet.”

“I think it would be good if you moved those assets to another entity, say, your bank, for the time being. You should talk to your banker before you call the Gunn firm. Who is your account manager there?”

“Jack Gunn.”

“You’ll have to talk to his number two, then.”

“That would be Peter Collins. I’ve dealt with him a couple of times.”

Freeman called his banker, talked for a moment, then hung up. “All Gunn’s accounts are temporarily frozen,” he said to Stone. “No transferring any funds into or out of accounts, and no trading.”

“That may be a good thing,” Stone said.

Freeman’s secretary knocked and came into the room. “You should turn on your TV to CNBC,” she said.

Freeman switched on a large flat-screen TV hanging on the wall on the other side of his office. A reporter stood outside the building where Jack Gunn’s offices were located. In the background officers in body armor were moving into the building and there was yellow police boundary tape everywhere.

“The latest word is that somebody has shot several people in the offices of Jack Gunn, the investment banker who was taken to the U.S. Attorney’s office earlier this morning for questioning,” the reporter was saying. “We have not been told who the shooter is, how many people he has shot, or whether there are any fatalities, and it may be some time before we know any of that.”

Stone looked past the reporter, and his eyes widened. He saw Herbie Fisher leaving the building with his arm around his new wife. “That’s my client,” he said, pointing. He got his cell phone out and speed-dialed Herbie’s phone.

“Hello?” Herbie said breathlessly.

“Herbie, it’s Stone Barrington. I’ve just seen you come out of Gunn’s building on TV. What’s going on up there?”

“This guy who sits next to Jack’s office has shot a couple of people; I don’t think anybody is dead. We were down the hall in Stephanie’s office when the shooting started, and we got the hell out of there.”

“Who is the guy doing the shooting?” Stone asked.

“His name is Peter Collins,” Herbie replied. “I just met him this morning. We were supposed to talk to him about moving my money over to the firm.”

“Did you do that?”

“No, we didn’t have time.”

“That’s good. Get Stephanie to your apartment and call me when you’re there.”

“Okay, Stone.” Herbie hung up.

So did Stone. “The guy doing the shooting is Peter Collins,” he said to Mike Freeman. “I don’t think he’s going to be taking any calls this morning, except maybe from a police hostage negotiator.”

“Oh, swell,” Freeman said. He picked up his phone. “Sally, put that conference call through,” he said. “Stone, I may as well let them all know what’s happening, or what we know of it.”

“I suppose so,” Stone said.

The call was put through, and Freeman brought his colleagues up to date, then told them he’d get back to them when he had more information. He hung up.

“I guess there’s nothing else we can do except wait for more information,” he said to Stone.

“I guess not,” Stone replied.