by Stuart Woods
“You let him do that?”
“Nothing to do with me; he’s bought my client’s local attorney, in Virginia.” Stone didn’t mind if Prince knew he knew.
“Did you tell me that because you think I’ll tell Terry you know?”
“I don’t mind if you do.”
“All right, I’ll tell him, but I wouldn’t have, if you’d wanted the confidence kept.”
“That’s nice to know,” Stone said, not believing her.
“What is your background?” she asked.
“Born and bred in Greenwich Village, attended the public schools and NYU-both for college and law school. Spent fourteen years on the NYPD; then I ran into an old law school buddy who runs Woodman amp; Weld, and he offered me a deal.”
“Where do you live in New York?”
“In a town house in Turtle Bay; you know it?”
“Yes, I’m a New Yorker, too.”
“Your turn,” he said.
“Born and bred on Fifth Avenue, Miss Porter’s School, Mount Holyoke, an MBA from Wharton. Married once, for ten years, divorced last year.”
“You got the house?”
“This is California; ever hear of community property? He had done well, with my help, so I got more than the house.”
“How did Prince find you?”
“Friends introduced us at a restaurant, I had a brief fling with him, and when it was over he offered me the job.”
“And, with your background, you don’t mind serving iced tea?”
“That’s not all I do,” she said. “He values my business sense, and I contribute something to almost every deal.”
“Sounds like you didn’t know about the Centurion thing.”
She shot him a glance. “That’s right, I didn’t, until I heard a snatch of conversation at your meeting this afternoon.”
“Why do you suppose he didn’t tell you about it?”
“That’s a very good question and one I’m going to make it my business to learn the answer to.”
“I somehow have the impression that you don’t like your boss.”
“I like him well enough.”
“But you don’t trust him.”
“Not implicitly. I don’t think he’s ever lied to me, but sometimes he doesn’t tell me things, and I have to figure them out for myself.”
“Why wouldn’t he tell you about the Centurion offer?”
“Because when I participate in a deal, I get a cut-a small one, but in a deal like that it would be considerable-and I suppose he doesn’t want to pay me, not when he thinks he doesn’t need me.”
“He does seem very confident, doesn’t he?” Stone asked.
“If he’s confident, it’s for a reason.”
“Like inside knowledge from the Virginia lawyer?”
“That’s just the sort of thing he would do. He bought a house in Virginia a couple of years ago, then flipped it for a nice profit. My guess is, the lawyer probably had something to do with that transaction, and that’s how they met.”
That was good information, Stone thought. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen Prince do in business?” he asked.
“If you were my attorney, you’d tell me not to answer that,” she said.
“Then it must be something pretty bad.”
“A lot of people in business have done bad things,” she said. “Happens all the time.”
The waiter arrived with menus and told them the specials. When he had gone, Stone said, “If you find yourself in a compromised position because of something Prince is doing, feel free to call me,” he said, giving her his card. “Knowing too much can sometimes be felonious.”
She tucked the card into her bra. “Good point,” she said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
After a good dinner he took her home and gave her a fairly chaste goodnight kiss. She didn’t invite him in, and he didn’t press the issue.
12
Stone and Dino were having breakfast the following morning when Manolo brought an envelope to the table.
“A fax for you, Mr. Stone.”
Stone opened the envelope and took out Arrington’s financial statement.
“What’s that?” Dino asked.
“It’s a list of all of Arrington’s assets and liabilities, in detail, and a statement of her net worth.”
“So, what’s she worth?”
“Sorry, pal, that’s a client confidence.” Stone began looking through the statement. It was pretty straightforward, even if the numbers were large. She owned her house in Virginia, which she valued at twenty million dollars, the Bel-Air house, valued at fifteen million, her Centurion stock, which she had valued at two billion, but which might end up worth half again as much, a securities account with Chase Private Bank in New York, valued at one point two billion, and cash balances in her various accounts at Chase of just over two million.
Stone’s breath was taken away. Even without the Centurion stock, Arrington was a billionaire. He felt a new respect for the intelligence and business acumen of Vance Calder, who had obviously used his earning power as Hollywood’s greatest star over nearly half a century very wisely indeed. He also realized that, for him, Arrington’s wealth was the key to a new kind of relationship with Woodman amp; Weld.
Stone had always been the firm’s outside man, available to take the cases Woodman amp; Weld did not want to be seen to be involved with. He had always been well compensated, but given his lifestyle, he had never been able to accumulate much wealth beyond his possessions. Then a few months ago, he had brought a very profitable new client, Strategic Services, to the firm, earning himself a million-dollar bonus for the previous year. Bill Eggers had dangled a partnership before him, but had not mentioned it since. Neither had Stone, but now was the time.
Dino excused himself to go and get dressed, and Stone picked up his phone and dialed Bill Eggers.
“Good morning, Stone.”
“Good morning, Bill. Have you a few minutes to talk?”
“Of course, Stone, always for you.”
Although they had been friends for more than twenty years, this was a little more cordiality than Stone was accustomed to from Eggers. He seized the moment. “Bill, I’m sure you will recall the generous bonus the firm gave me a few months ago, when I brought Strategic Services into the fold.”
“How could I forget it?” Eggers asked.
“And I’m also sure you’ll recall the encouragement you gave me regarding a partnership at Woodman amp; Weld.”
Eggers took a couple of beats before replying. “I believe I raised that as… a possibility, at some time in the future.”
“I believe that time has come, Bill.”
Eggers emitted a low chuckle. “I divine that the work you’re doing for Arrington Calder has given you new confidence, Stone.”
“Let’s just say that it raises the… possibility of an important new client for Woodman amp; Weld.”
“How important a client?”
“One with a net worth in the range of four billion dollars.” Stone heard a sharp intake of breath.
“Would we be representing her in the Centurion deal?”
“I would be representing her in that and other business. Whether Woodman amp; Weld would be involved is now up to you.”
There was a thoughtful pause. “You understand that I have a board of management that must approve any new partnership.”
“I understand that you run a tight ship, and that the board would certainly respect your wishes.”
“I’ve had the impression that you would not wish the Centurion deal to come to fruition, if you had your way.”
“I would hate to see Centurion Studios gutted for the benefit of a rapacious developer and an investor who doesn’t need the proceeds of such a sale in order to have any little thing her heart desires.”
“The firm would not derive much in the way of revenue from a sale that did not take place,” Eggers pointed out.
“There will be many oppor
tunities in the future for the firm to derive revenue from Arrington as a client, continuing into the next generation.”
The chuckle came again. “You know, Stone, I met your father several times. Do you recall?”
“Of course. You had many dinners at my parents’ home, when we were in law school.”
“I retain a very sharp memory of your father’s appearance,” Eggers said, “and when I met young Peter Calder, I was struck by his resemblance to your father.”
“I have made the same observation,” Stone said.
“May I put a blunt question to you without offense, Stone?”
“On this occasion, you may not,” Stone replied.
Eggers sighed. “All right,” he said.
“All right what?” Stone asked.
“If you bring Arrington into the fold, I will propose to the board of management that you join Woodman amp; Weld as a full partner, with compensation in line with that paid to other partners, which, of course, is based on the revenues they produce for the firm, and I will make the proposal to the board an enthusiastic one.”
“Thank you, Bill, and please be sure that the board understands that the closing of a Centurion deal may very well not be a part of the firm’s representation of Arrington.”
“I understand.”
“Something else,” Stone said.
“Yes?”
“All this will hinge on Arrington’s successful purchase of Champion Farms. Based on your assessment of the value of the company, she will make a one-time offer of thirty-seven million dollars to Rex Champion, and we must insist that he immediately stop selling his blood stock.”
“I will start the process, Stone. When do you want to close? I think an early closing would be an incentive for Rex to accept the offer, given his cash-flow problem.”
“Thirty days, but two weeks, if he insists. If Arrington needs cash to close, I’m sure Chase Private Bank would be happy to advance it, given the size of her portfolio.”
“I know people there.”
“Since you are personally acquainted with Rex Champion, Bill, I think it’s appropriate that you handle this offer and the subsequent transaction.”
“I will do so,” Eggers said. “Do I have authority to proceed?”
“You do,” Stone replied, “but until all our other arrangements are concluded, please withhold knowledge of Arrington’s net worth to your people.” Stone paused for a moment. “One other thing: Arrington’s affairs have heretofore been handled by a Charlottesville attorney named Howard Sharp, and it is essential that Rex Champion understand that word of this deal not reach Sharp until it is concluded. When that is done and the Centurion situation has been resolved, Arrington will fire Mr. Sharp.”
“Of course,” Eggers replied. “Stone, let me say that I am excited by not only the acquisition of Arrington as a client, but with the prospect of your closer ties to Woodman amp; Weld.”
“Thank you, Bill.” They said goodbye, and Stone hung up, breathless with the adrenaline this conversation had fired into his system.
13
Stone called Mike Freeman at Strategic Services. “Good morning, Mike.”
“And to you, Stone.”
“I would like to retain Strategic Services on the account of Woodman amp; Weld.”
“Of course,” Mike said. “How can we help?”
“The firm has a client who is contemplating entering into a large transaction involving the purchase of her shares in a movie studio by a man named Terrence Prince, of Los Angeles, who wants to build a hotel and an office/residential development on the studio’s land.”
“I understand. We used to provide personal security to Mr. Prince, before he got so rich he hired his own people.”
“Good, because I want to know everything about him, where his money comes from and who else’s money he’s playing with.”
“We can investigate and supply that information,” Mike said. “Our file on him is by now out of date, but I can tell you that the origins of his wealth are shady.”
“Is this about the brother who ran the drug ring in the Amazonian jungle?”
“It is. His brother is said to have backed him to the tune of a hundred million dollars, perhaps as much as two hundred million in cash laundered through a dozen banks in the Caribbean and the Far East. When Terry’s brother was killed in the big raid by the Colombian army, the debt evaporated, as did any influence from the brother, so for intents and purposes, he has been clean since that time.”
“How very convenient,” Stone said. “You think Terry ratted out his brother?”
“It’s a possibility; we’ll look into that, too, if you like. What sort of time frame are we talking about?”
“Very short,” Stone said, “no more than a few days. This deal has been brewing for several weeks, but I only recently became involved, after that phone call I took at Elaine’s.”
“We’re on it,” Mike said. “Anything else?”
“Yes. There are a couple of people who work for Prince I’d like profiles on, too: one is his driver, name unknown, white male, thirtyish, shaved head, bulky build; the other is his executive assistant, Carolyn Blaine, thirty-fiveish, five ten, a hundred and thirty pounds, born New York City, educated at Miss Porter’s School, Mount Holyoke, and Wharton for an MBA, divorced last year.”
“What are you looking for?”
“With the driver, a criminal record and any violent activity in his past; with the assistant, just whatever you can find.”
“I’ll get back to you, Stone, on the cell?”
“Yes, I’m still in L.A. and will be for at least a week.”
Mike hung up, and so did Stone.
Dino came out of the guesthouse. “Anything you need me for?”
“No, I’ve set some things in motion, so I’m pretty much just waiting to hear from people.”
“Mind if I take the car, then? I’d like to do some sightseeing.”
Stone tossed him the keys. “Keep it as long as you like; if I have to go out, I’ll take Vance Calder’s Bentley.”
“Have a nice day,” Dino said, then walked toward the front of the house.
Stone relaxed in the sun and was soon asleep. Then he was being lightly shaken by Manolo. Stone opened his eyes. “What is it, Manolo ?”
“Mr. Stone, your secretary has been trying to reach you on your cell phone but got no answer. She’s on the house line.”
“Thank you, Manolo,” Stone said, and reached for the phone on the table next to his chaise. “Hello?”
“It’s Joan. You were asleep by the pool, weren’t you?”
“I’ve had a busy morning,” Stone said. “Lots happening.”
“Lots happening here, too. Somebody broke into the offices last night.”
Stone sat up. “A burglar?”
“I don’t think so; it was too subtle. I called Bob Cantor; he’s here now and wants to speak to you.” Bob Cantor was a retired cop who often did technical work for Stone.
“Put him on,” Stone said. He heard a click. “Bob?”
“Yeah, Stone; somebody gave your place a good going over last night.”
“Anything missing?”
“A lot of information, I suspect. It was a real pro job. They even got into Joan’s safe and yours, too.”
“You know, Bob, I’m going to have to hire somebody to get in there and install a top-notch security system,” he said, archly. Bob had installed his current system.
“You’ve already got a top-notch system, Stone, or we wouldn’t know how far these people got. As it was, if you’d been here, you’d have gotten half a dozen alarms on your phone system, but since neither you nor Joan was in the house, and since you wouldn’t let me install a police alert, it didn’t matter what they set off.”
“All right, all right, Bob. You’re right, it’s my fault.”
“As long as I’m here I want to update some things about the system, and I want you to spring for the high-def cameras, too. That way, if
they come back, I’ll have a few surprises for them.”
“Good idea, go ahead.”
Joan came back on the phone. “Any idea who’s behind this?” she asked.
“Yes, I have an idea; it’s this guy Prince. It’s funny, but I’ve just put Strategic Services onto him, though I didn’t tell them to break into his offices.”
“That was sweet of you.”
“If there’s nothing missing, then there’s no harm done,” Stone said. “Just relax and let Bob do his work; he’s going to beef up the system and install some cameras, so don’t start running around the office naked, unless you want me to have you on tape.”
“I’ll try and restrain myself,” she said. “Bye-bye.”
Stone hung up, and his cell phone vibrated on the table. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Rick Barron. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner; Glenna and I have been at our place in Santa Barbara for a couple of days.”
“Good morning, Rick. I have some news on the death of Jennifer Harris.”
“Good.”
“I’m sorry to tell you she was murdered, Rick.”
“My God! How?”
“Ice pick into the brain from the back of the neck, above the hairline. It was a professional job; the killer took the trouble to seal the wound with spirit gum, so the ME wouldn’t notice it, but Sergeant Rivera had already alerted him to be thorough.”
“I’m having trouble believing this,” Rick said.
“I think it’s important that you find out what her will says with regard to her Centurion stock,” Stone said. “Can you do that?”
“I know her lawyer,” Rick replied. “He might tell me.”
“Will you let me know what he says?”
“I will, Stone; I’ll call him now.” Rick hung up.
Stone thought about what was happening. He wasn’t sleepy anymore.
14
Dino came back late in the afternoon. “How was your day?”
“Both busy and idle,” Stone replied. “I got a call from Joan and Cantor; somebody broke into my offices last night.”
