Standup Guy

by Stuart Woods

  “Oh, Stone, poor baby,” Hank said. She went into his office bathroom and came out with a couple of towels and a trash can. She wiped his face with a damp facecloth, cleaned up the mess, and put the towels in the trash can. “Let’s sit you up,” she said. She rolled him onto his side, put his feet on the floor, and sat him up. “Is that better?”

  Stone nodded and looked as dazed as he could, which, given the circumstances, wasn’t hard. He moved his hands: cuffs. He looked down at his feet: duct tape. He was secured.

  “You want some water, Stone?”

  He nodded. She went to the bathroom and came back with a glass. He took a sip, swished it around in his mouth, and spat into the trash can. “More.” He drank half the glass.

  “Put some of that duct tape on his mouth,” Parese said.

  “I can’t do that,” Hank replied. “If he vomits again, he could choke on it.”

  “So what? I don’t care if he chokes, I’d just as soon put a bullet in his head.”

  “Marty, I’ve told you before: if we kill him they’ll never stop looking for us, wherever we go. It’s not like killing Bats—nobody cares about him. Stone has friends in the police, and they’d really come after us. Stone can take the five-million-dollar hit without blinking. He might even be too embarrassed to tell anybody.”

  “Whatever you say, babe. Now keep feeding the machine money.”

  “How much are we up to?”

  “Two hundred and twenty thou.”

  “God. We’ll be here until Tuesday.”

  “Not that long—we’re getting the hang of it now.”

  They went back to work.

  Stone felt better for throwing up; his head was clear now; he could think. Trouble was, he couldn’t think of any way out of this. There were things in the office he could use, but he couldn’t move. They could do with him as they willed.

  That thought made him nauseous again, but he fought it down. He took some deep breaths.

  “You okay, Stone?” Hank asked.

  “Just confused,” he said.

  “Yes, I guess this is pretty confusing for you.”

  “So, was it you and Bats or you and Marty?”

  “It was always Marty,” she said. “Bats was just a schmuck.”

  “Ah,” he said, “all is revealed.” He was a schmuck, too. Now all he could do was sit here and wait to find out who won the argument over whether or not to kill him.

  52

  Jack and Hillary finished their round and went back to the clubhouse for lunch.

  “You beat me on handicap,” Hillary said, after they had ordered.

  “Come on, I don’t even have a handicap yet.”

  “You’re playing consistently, though, which nobody with your experience ever does. I think your instructor is wrong about your playing at the eighteen-handicap level. I think you’re closer to a fifteen.”

  “From your lips to God’s ear,” Jack said.

  “You seem very much at peace today, Jack. I had noticed a little tension the past few days. Did something good happen?”

  “Yes, something good happened. I just cleared up a little of the underbrush of my past life.”

  “Underbrush? That’s a funny word.”

  “Now everything is just smooth, freshly mown fairway. I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite so free.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I’m happy for you, Jack. I’m happy for both of us.” She looked out at the golf course for a moment, as if she had something on her mind. “There’s something I have to say to you.”

  Oh, God, he thought. And it had been going so well. His greatest fear had been something like this. He had been thinking of marriage, but now he was about to be cut down to size. “What is it?” he asked, as steadily as he could.

  “Will you marry me, Jack?”

  He nearly spilled his iced tea. “I was going to . . .”

  “I know, you were going to back out. I was afraid that you were afraid of me.”

  “Oh, no,” he said.

  “You haven’t answered me. Do you want to know about my circumstances? I love you, Jack, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  “There’s nothing I need to know about you, Hillary. I love you, and I’ll marry you just as fast as we can do whatever it takes to get it done.”

  “Oh, that’s such a relief,” she said. “I was afraid you were afraid of my wealth.”

  “Not your wealth, hon, just our different stations in life.”

  “There’s no difference, Jack. We live in the same community, in the same building, even. We play at the same golf course, we have the same best friends.”

  “You’re a very generous person, Hillary.”

  “You’re right, I am, but I’m not exercising generosity. I feel that we are absolute equals. I’m sorry about the difference in our fortunes, but it wasn’t my fault—I inherited it.”

  “I promise I won’t hold it against you.”

  “There are some things you need to know about my life and the way I live it.”

  “I don’t need to know anything.”

  “If we’re to be married, you need to know everything. I was married twice before I met you: divorced once, then widowed. Bob was a very wealthy man, and neither of us had children. After the estate was wound up and the taxes paid, I had a stock account with about seventy million in it, and four houses. I sold the one in Scottsdale. Now I live here in the winter and in Northeast Harbor, Maine, in the summer, and the spring and autumn on Fifth Avenue in New York, across from Central Park. Do you think you could live like that? I mean, I can sell any place you don’t want to live.”

  “Excuse me, I’m a little breathless,” Jack said. “I’m sure that any place you love will be fine with me.”

  “There’s a lovely sailboat in Maine. Have you ever sailed?”

  “Only on the Staten Island Ferry.”

  “I think you’ll like it. I’m also the largest stockholder in Bob’s company and on the board, and I have the use of the corporate jet, so we don’t have to bother with the airlines. Have you done any traveling?”

  “Almost none.”

  “Let’s take a look at Paris, London, and Rome—for a start.”

  “You talked me into it.”

  “I’ve checked—we need to go to the courthouse and get a license, then there’s a three-day waiting period, and then anybody who’s a notary public can marry us. I thought my lawyer could do it.”

  “That’s fine with me. Let’s ask Winston and Elizabeth to stand up for us.”

  “Yes, of course. My apartment is so much bigger than yours—will you move in with me?”

  “Of course.”

  “The sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Great.”

  “I haven’t felt so good in years,” she said.

  “I’ve never felt so good,” he replied.

  “You know when I knew?” she asked.

  “When?”

  “When you bought the Bentley. I liked it that you included me in your decision, and especially that you had no problem taking my advice. A lot of men wouldn’t want a woman’s opinion.”

  “I will always want your opinion, and I’d be a fool not to follow your advice.”

  “That’s it, then.”

  “Yes,” he said, “that’s it.”

  “Would you like to play another round after lunch?”

  “I’d love it.”

  Two women in golf clothes got up from a table on the other side of the restaurant, and Hillary waved them over. “Hi, girls,” she said. “Let me introduce you to my fiancé, Jack Coulter. Jack, this is Nikki Seybold and Gail Barley, both of whom I’ve known since college.”

  Everyone shook hands.

  “Would you like to join us and make a foursome?” o
ne of the women asked.

  “Thanks,” Hillary said, “but I want Jack all to myself.”

  They laughed and went on their way.

  “They’re jealous,” Hillary said.

  53

  Stone had managed to doze off. He awoke slowly and kept his eyes closed, so as not to inhibit their conversation.

  “Looks like we’re making good progress now,” Hank said.

  “Yeah, we’ve cracked four million. We’ll be there in another hour. Let’s take a break.”

  “What for?”

  “I’m starved,” he said. “It’s five-thirty, and I haven’t eaten since five o’clock this morning.”

  “All right,” she said. “Let’s get these four bags into the van, then we’ll get something to eat and come back and finish.”

  “Deal,” Parese said.

  They zipped up the four suitcases, stood them on their wheels, and began rolling the first two out of the office. A minute later, they came back for two more.

  “Is one more bag going to be enough?” she asked.

  “Yeah, we’ve got less than seven hundred grand to go, then we’ll be done.”

  “Okay, let’s go. Stone!”

  Stone appeared to jerk awake. “Huh?”

  “We’re going to get some dinner. We’ll be right back.”

  “Just a minute,” Parese said. He picked up a roll of duct tape and walked over to Stone. He passed three lengths around the sofa and across Stone’s chest, pinning him there, then he ripped off a short strip and slapped it over Stone’s mouth. “There, that’ll hold him.”

  The two left the office by the street door.

  Stone waited a full minute to let them clear the block, then he started his struggle. He leaned as hard as possible against the tape across his chest, trying to stretch enough to give him some wiggling room. It seemed to work, but he remained taped to the sofa. Then he started thrusting his feet and pelvis forward, to get more stretching and to make it possible for him to slide under the tape and onto the floor. This took a good ten minutes, but he remained stuck to the big piece of furniture. He had his old handcuff key from his cop days somewhere in his desk, but he couldn’t get up and walk over there to get it. He was huffing through his nose and sweating. Half an hour after they left, they came back with cartons of Chinese food.

  “Hey, there,” Hank said. “You doing okay?” She came over and ripped the tape off his face.

  Stone took some deep breaths. “Yeah.”

  “You want some Chinese?”

  “Not hungry.”

  “Suit yourself.” She went back to the desk, and they made room for the food, then served themselves and opened a couple of beers.

  Stone watched them and tried to relax.

  They finished and Hank resealed the cartons. “In case you want some later,” she said to Stone.

  “Okay,” Parese said, “it’s six-fifteen. I want to be done and out of here by seven. We’ll be out of the state by eight-thirty.”

  “Then let’s do it.” They resumed their stacking, counting, and sorting, and the last suitcase began to fill up. Stone watched them helplessly. Promptly at seven, Parese closed the last suitcase. “You wheel this to the van, and I’ll get the machine. Who knows, somebody might want a recount when we do the swap.”

  “Okay.” She wheeled the suitcase out of the office, and Parese picked up the machine, which looked heavy.

  “Need a hand with that?” Stone asked.

  Parese set down the machine and laughed. “You’re something, Stone. Hank told me you was a card.”

  “A laugh a minute,” Stone replied.

  Parese picked up the machine again. “I’ll be back in a minute to say goodbye.” He staggered out of the office with his load. Three minutes later, they were back.

  Parese got into his coat.

  “We’ll get out of your way,” Hank said, putting on her coat.

  But then Parese had a Glock in his hand. “Time to say bye-bye,” he said to Stone.

  Hank put her hand on the gun and pushed the barrel down. “No. I said no, Marty, and I meant it. We’re leaving no corpses behind. Nobody will see him until Tuesday morning, and if he could get out of that tape he would have while we were gone.”

  “Sorry, babe, but there will be no witnesses.” He racked the slide on the Glock.

  Stone looked around desperately for help, but there was none. Then the phone rang. Parese turned and looked at it, and on the third ring the voice mail kicked in.

  “Hi, Stone, it’s Kate Lee. Will and I are going to be in New York over the weekend. Can you have dinner with us at the Carlyle on Sunday night? Call me on the private cell number, don’t go through the White House switchboard. Hope to see you Sunday!” She hung up.

  Parese was still staring at the phone. “Was that who I think it was?”

  “Now are you getting the picture?” Hank asked. “The feds will be after us, too!”

  “This is a mistake,” Parese said, but he shoved the gun back into its holster on his waist. “All right, let’s go.”

  “You first,” Hank said.

  He started for the door.

  Hank ran across the room, took Stone by the chin, and kissed him on the lips. “Bye-bye, darlin’,” she said. “It’s been more fun than I can tell you.”

  “A word of advice, Hank,” Stone said.

  “What’s that, darlin’?”

  “You’d better kill Parese before he can kill you.”

  “That crossed my mind,” she said. “Don’t you worry about me, and thanks for all that money!” She turned and ran out of the office. A moment later, Stone heard the racing of a motor, then the vehicle drove away.

  He started with the tape again, thrashing around with all his strength, and finally he was able to slide under the tape to the floor: a triumph! Except that he was still handcuffed and his feet taped together. He returned to a sitting position, then stood up and hopped toward his desk, flopping down in his chair. There were two things he wanted: the handcuff key in one of his desk drawers and Joan’s .45, which lived in the middle drawer of her desk, always loaded. In case they came back. He decided to find the key first. That would make everything else easier.

  He swiveled to his left in the chair and reached as far sideways as the handcuffs would allow, then got his desk drawer open. He rummaged among the drawer’s contents with his nose and chin, checking every cranny, but he found no key.

  He started with the left-hand top drawer and repeated the process. It had to be here somewhere. Half an hour later, he still had two drawers to go, and he was exhausted. Then he heard the door open: they were coming back. He laid his head on the cool desktop and waited for Parese and his Glock.

  54

  “What the fuck?” a man’s voice said. He walked across the room, took hold of Stone’s shoulder, and sat him up in his chair.

  Stone looked up at the man with bleary eyes. “Dino?”

  “You’re some kind of host, you know that? We let ourselves in, as usual, and went to the study—no lights on. We went upstairs hollering for you, and then we come down here and find that you’re playing some sort of sex game. Where’s Hank? Gone out for lubricant?”

  “Dino, please uncuff me.”

  “Won’t that spoil things for Hank?”

  “Dino, please.”

  Dino rummaged in his pocket for his keys, came up with a ring, selected the smallest key, and unlocked the cuffs. “There you go. You want me to leave your feet taped?”

  Stone shook his head wearily, rested his elbows on the desk, and put his face in his hands. Dino took a box cutter from a coffee mug on Stone’s desk, emblazoned with the legend NEW YORK CITY MORGUE, and cut through the duct tape binding Stone’s feet.

  Viv came through the door. “What’s going on?”

  “You wouldn’
t believe me if I told you,” Dino said. “Stone and Hank have been playing games. He was wearing the cuffs.” He held them up.

  “Oh, stop it, Dino. Stone, what’s happened?”

  “I hardly know where to begin,” Stone said. He reached across the desk, grabbed a Chinese takeout carton and a pair of chopsticks, and shoveled some fried rice into his mouth. “Starved,” he mumbled. “Nothing since breakfast.”

  Dino went to Stone’s office bar, filled three glasses with ice, poured them all a drink, and brought them back to the desk. He took away the fried-rice carton and handed Stone a Knob Creek. “Wash it down with this, and tell us what the fuck happened.” He and Viv took chairs and sipped their drinks, waiting for Stone to swallow.

  “Okay,” Stone said finally, after taking a big breath and a big swallow of bourbon. “Hank and her boyfriend, Marty Parese, just stole five million dollars from me.”

  “What five million dollars is that?” Dino inquired.

  “The five million I was going to use to ransom Hank from Bats Buono—or to pretend to ransom, until I got a shot at him.”

  “You said Marty Parese—we’re looking for him already. He blew when the chop shop got raided.”

  “Hank and I had dinner last night, came home, went to bed, as usual. This morning Eggers called and asked me to fax him a document. I got dressed and came down here and somebody—make that Parese—hit me with something and knocked me out cold. When I woke up, Parese and Hank were using a counting and sorting machine to put the five million in order. My bank had scrambled it, and they wouldn’t take it back until it was sorted.”

  “When did they leave?”

  “Just after seven. You were due here at seven, weren’t you? Where the hell were you? You might have grabbed them.”

  “The vagaries of being a public servant,” Dino said. “I worked a little late.”

  “They sorted and banded the money—it was in two large leaf bags—and packed it into five or six suitcases on wheels. They took the machine with them, too. Parese wanted to kill me, but Hank stopped him.”

  “I guess she’s just a sentimental softy,” Dino said. “Except for the part about stealing your money. Any idea where they went with it?”