by Stuart Woods
She turned, looking surprised. “Oh, hello, Stone. What brings you out here?”
“Lunch and some down time,” he replied.
“All ready for the stockholders’ meeting Tuesday morning?”
“I don’t really have any preparations to make,” Stone said. “I’ve just been enjoying my time in L.A.”
“What have you been doing?”
“Lying around, mostly. Had dinner last night with some friends from Santa Fe who are in town.” He caught just a tiny flicker of concern in her face. “Nice town, Santa Fe. Have you spent any time there?”
“Once, half a dozen years ago; a weekend with somebody I shouldn’t have gone there with.”
Stone laughed. “Yes, we’ve all had weekends like that, haven’t we?”
“Have you talked to Mrs. Calder about the offer on the Bel-Air property?”
“No, I haven’t received a revised offer that meets her requirements,” he said.
“Is this still about Centurion?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we’ll have that out of the way on Tuesday, one way or another.”
“One way or another,” Stone said. “If the Bel-Air deal should go through, would you be involved?”
“I would head up the project for Terry,” she said. “I think it would be a lot of fun, designing and building a new, top-of-the-line hotel.”
“I expect it would,” Stone said. “It would be a disappointment for you, wouldn’t it, if Terry got his hands onto the Centurion property.”
“Not necessarily,” she said. “Terry can be very persuasive.”
“I’m afraid his charms are lost on me,” Stone said. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve left Dino over there somewhere with a beer.”
“See you Tuesday,” she said.
Stone went back to the bar and sat down. “Something’s wrong,” he said.
“What do you mean, wrong?”
“She’s been nervous as a cat the last couple of times I’ve talked with her, and she constantly talked about how wired Terry Prince was, but now, suddenly, she’s perfectly calm, and apparently looking forward to the Centurion stockholders’ meeting on Tuesday.”
“Maybe,” Dino said, “having sex in the backseat of a Rolls-Royce has a calming effect.”
Stone sat, sipping his tepid beer, trying to think of something to do.
43
When Stone and Dino got back to the house there was an envelope on the poolside table addressed to Stone and marked, “By Messenger.” The return address was Terry Prince’s office.
Stone sat down and opened it. “Looks like a new offer on the Bel-Air property,” he said.
“The guy doesn’t give up easily, does he?”
A slip of paper fell from the envelope, and Stone picked it up. “And a check for twenty-five million dollars, too!” Stone scanned the agreement. “The last offer was from Prince’s company,” he said. “This one’s from him personally, and the twenty-five-million-dollar deposit is nonrefundable. The check is drawn on his personal account.”
“What does that mean?” Dino asked.
“I suppose it means that he wants to do the project without investors. At least, at the beginning. That’s not how deals of this size are done; there’s always a corporation, even if it’s wholly owned.”
“Are you sure this guy is entirely sane?” Dino asked.
Stone shook his head. “No, I’m not entirely sure he’s entirely sane. I think maybe he’s just trying to impress Arrington.” Stone picked up the phone and called Virginia.
“Hello?”
“Hi there, it’s Stone.”
“Funny, I was about to call you.”
“Then you first.”
“I think I’ll come out there for the Centurion shareholders’ meeting on Tuesday.”
“That would be great, but you don’t have to; I already have your proxy.”
“I think I might enjoy voting my shares personally,” she said.
“I think you just want to fly somewhere in your new airplane.”
She giggled. “Well, there is that. Okay, your turn.”
“We got a new offer from Prince today,” he said. “It’s the same amount, but it’s from Prince personally, not from his company, and there was included a check for twenty-five million dollars as a nonrefundable deposit. You have until five p.m. on Tuesday to accept.”
“I’ve never seen a check for twenty-five million dollars,” she said.
“Neither had I, until today.”
“Well, don’t lose it,” she said.
“When will you be out here?”
“How about dinner tomorrow night, you and Dino?”
“I think I can talk Dino into that; you’re on. Call me from the plane and give me an ETA, and I’ll meet you at the airport.”
“How sweet of you; I’ll do that. See you then.”
“Bye.” Stone hung up.
“What do you think you can talk me into?” Dino asked.
“Dinner tomorrow night with Arrington.”
“You talked me into it.”
“She’s coming for the stockholders’ meeting; wants to vote her own shares.”
“Okay by me.”
“Me, too,” Stone said.
“Stone, why don’t you marry the girl?”
“We talked about it a while back, in Dark Harbor; decided it wouldn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to live in Virginia, and she doesn’t want to live in New York.”
“Oh. Somehow I could see you living the life of a Virginia gentleman, riding to the hounds and all that.”
“I haven’t been on a horse since I was twelve, at summer camp,” Stone said, “and if I started a hunt on horseback, the horse would very likely finish without me.”
“How about being a gentleman farmer?”
“Not the slightest interest,” Stone said. “Isn’t that what grocery stores are for?”
“When was the last time you were in a grocery store?” Dino asked.
“I don’t remember. Joan and my housekeeper Helene do all the shopping.”
“Have you heard from Joan?”
“We’ve talked most days.”
“Is she happy about your partnership?”
“Yes, since she found out she doesn’t have to work in the Seagram Building. She likes it at my house.”
“How is the partnership going to change your life?”
Stone sighed. “I don’t know, really. I suppose I’ll have to attend more meetings, but I’m going to keep life as much like it is now as I can.”
“Everything changes.”
“Not everything; you’re still a lieutenant, when you could be a captain, or maybe even chief of detectives.”
“I don’t want that to change,” Dino said. “I’ve got it really good as it is; I pretty much work for myself, don’t have to take daily orders from anybody else. The commissioner likes me, the chief likes me, and the chief of detectives likes me. If I let them promote me, I’d be somebody’s rival, and the politics would start.”
“You’re right; you’ve got a sweet deal, and it would be a shame to screw that up.”
“You want to know what I’m doing right this minute?” Dino asked.
“You’re sitting on your ass,” Stone said.
“No, I’m liaising with my counterparts at the LAPD, comparing procedures and programs.”
“You could have fooled me,” Stone said.
“Didn’t you wonder what all that stuff with Rivera was about?”
“I thought you were just keeping your hand in.”
“Well, that, too.”
Stone’s cell rang. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Mike Freeman.”
“How are you, Mike?”
“Very well thanks.”
“Thank you again for doing the airplane and hangar deals for Arrington. She’s very appreciative.”
“You’re both very welcome,” Mike said. “I
enjoyed doing it.”
“What’s happening in New York?”
“It’s weirdly quiet,” Mike said. “Things are just rolling along; the company seems to be taking care of itself. None of our security clients has been shot or had his car blown up.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Stone said. He told him about the exploding Mercedes.
“Well, shit,” Mike said. “I should have kept some people at the house. I thought that, after Arrington left, there wouldn’t be any further problems.”
“So did I,” Stone said.
“I’ll have people there in an hour.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Stone said. “Dino and I can handle it.”
“You didn’t handle it too well the last time, did you? And anyway, you’re our corporate counsel and a member of our board, and you have to be protected.”
“If you insist.”
“I do insist! I’m glad I called to see how things were, since things are so terrible in L.A. I’m going to come out there and personally see that you don’t die before Tuesday.”
“You’re just bored and looking for an excuse to get out of New York.”
“You could be right,” Mike said, “between now and Tuesday, we’re all going to watch your ass. I’ll be there tomorrow. Dinner?”
“You can join Arrington, Dino, and me.”
“I’ve got an airplane to catch,” Mike said, then hung up.
44
Stone managed to sleep late on Sunday morning. He had eggs Benedict in bed and read both the New York Times and Los Angeles Times. It was nearly noon when the bedside phone rang.
“Stone? It’s Rick Barron.”
“Good morning, Rick. How is everything?”
“I’m not sure,” Rick replied.
“What’s making you unsure?”
“Something’s wrong with Jim Long.”
“Rick, he’s suffered a knife wound and lost a kidney; of course something’s wrong with him.”
“No, I mean about his shares in Centurion.”
“Rick, you can rest easy about those shares; they’re bought and paid for, and I have the stock certificate.”
“Yes, I know that, but I just had a call from the attorney for Jennifer Harris’s estate, and he told me he’s had an offer for her shares.”
“So Prince is still trying to get them.”
“No, the offer is not from Prince; he wouldn’t tell me who it was, but he did tell me it was for four thousand dollars a share.”
“Four thousand!”
“That’s what he said. He’s waiting for an answer from her trustees, and he wanted to give us a chance to match the offer.”
“Then that means that Prince is going to show up on Tuesday and make that offer to all the stockholders.”
“Stone, I told you, the offer isn’t from Prince.”
“Who else could it be?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea, and I’m very worried about it.”
“It doesn’t matter, Rick; we have enough shares on our side to get along without Jennifer Harris’s.”
“There’s something else, Stone.”
Stone felt a trickle of apprehension run down his bowels. “What else, Rick.”
“The attorney intimated that Jim Long’s shares might be in play as well.”
“That’s not possible, and Long knows it,” Stone said. “At least, his attorney, Harvey Stein, does.”
“I hope you’re right, but I just have the feeling that everything is about to go wrong.”
“Then there’s the shareholder who promised to vote with us.”
“Yes, you wouldn’t tell me his name. Maybe you’d better call him and have a chat.”
“I can’t; it’s Sunday, and I don’t have his home number.”
“Is his office number at Centurion?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then I probably have his home number in my book.”
“But if I ask you for that, I’d be violating his confidence, and I can’t call him and ask him for his permission.”
“Stone, there’s nothing wrong with your asking me for somebody’s home number.”
“Tell you what, Rick, can you give me the home numbers of Jim Long, Charlene Joiner, and Jack Schmeltzer? This has nothing to do with what we were talking about.”
“Sure, Stone.” Rick read out the three numbers, and Stone dutifully wrote them down.
“Do you want me to call anybody for you?” Rick asked.
“No, please, don’t. I want to talk to the shareholder and to Harvey Stein. Then I’ll get back to you.”
“I’m at the studio,” Rick said, “on stage four.”
“What are you doing at the studio on a Sunday morning?”
“I’m arranging a little reception for our shareholders,” Rick said. “You’ll see on Tuesday. I’ve got to run.” He hung up.
Stone called Jack Schmeltzer’s home and got an answering machine. “Hello, Jack. It’s Stone Barrington. I’d be grateful if you’d give me a call at the first opportunity.” He left his cell number. Then he called Harvey Stein’s cell, got voice mail, and left the same message. He hung up. He didn’t know what else to do.
Stone and Dino had a late lunch on the patio, and late in the afternoon the house phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Arrington. We’ll be landing at Santa Monica in an hour,” she said. “We’re parking at Atlantic Aviation.”
“I’ll see you there,” Stone said. “Oh, by the way, Mike Freeman is going to join us for dinner.”
“He called me. I’ve already added him to our table.”
“Great, see you in an hour.” Stone hung up. He told Dino about the call from Rick Barron earlier in the day.
“That sounds ominous,” Dino said.
“Yes, it does. I’ve called both Schmeltzer and Harvey Stein, and neither of them has gotten back to me.”
“It’s Sunday afternoon,” Dino said. “They’re probably on the golf course.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Stone said. “You’re probably right; they’ll call back this evening.”
Stone got Vance Calder’s Bentley Arnage out of the garage, and they drove to Santa Monica Airport and got buzzed through the security gate and onto the ramp.
“Here comes a G-III,” Dino said, pointing.
Stone looked up to see the beautiful plane turning from the taxiway into the Atlantic Aviation ramp. “That is she,” he said. He waited until the airplane was chocked, then drove out and parked near the door. The airstair dropped into place, and Arrington walked down the steps, looking fresh as a teenager.
Stone hugged and kissed her, and she gave Dino a kiss, too. “How was your flight?” Stone asked.
“Heavenly,” she replied. “It’s like having your own railroad car, except it moves at five hundred knots. I actually had a shower, so I wouldn’t have to change at home.”
Stone opened the boot of the car so that the crew could load her luggage, then he turned to see another G-III taxiing onto the ramp. “There’s the Strategic Services airplane,” he said. “I’d thought Mike would go into Burbank.”
“We coordinated,” Arrington said. “I was actually able to telephone him from my airplane to his. Isn’t that extraordinary?”
“It is,” Stone agreed. He watched a black SUV pull up to Mike’s airplane and saw Mike get out.
“Why don’t we go straight to the restaurant?” Arrington said.
“It’s Michael’s, in Santa Monica. Mike’s car can take his luggage to the Bel-Air.”
“Good idea,” Stone said, and in little more than a moment they were all in the Arnage, and shortly after that they were settled in a garden table at Michael’s.
Arrington was facing the door. “Well, that’s awkward, isn’t it?” she said, nodding toward the restaurant door.
Stone turned and saw Terry Prince, Carolyn Blaine, and two other people enter the garden.
“Yes, it is,” Stone said. “Igno
re them.”
45
Drinks and menus arrived, but Stone was preoccupied with Prince and his dinner guests. “Dino,” he said, nodding toward their table, “isn’t that the woman we saw out in Malibu, the one with the Rolls-Royce?”
“I thought we were ignoring them,” Dino said.
“What was her name?”
Dino produced his notebook. “The car was registered to an E. K. Grosvenor, of San Francisco. The name meant nothing to you.”
“It still doesn’t,” Stone said, but he had an oddly unsettling feeling about the woman.
“Oh, come on, Stone,” Arrington said, “order something. I’m hungry.”
Everyone ordered. As they were waiting for their food, Terry Prince got up and walked over to their table. “Good evening, Mrs. Calder, Stone, everybody.”
Replies were muttered.
Prince turned to Arrington. “Have you had an opportunity to consider my offer yet?”
“I’ve just arrived,” she said. “I haven’t seen it.”
“You’ll get an answer Tuesday,” Stone said, “after the Centurion business is settled.”
“Very well,” Prince said. “Enjoy your dinner.” He turned and ambled back to his table.
Stone reflected that Prince was looking a lot more relaxed than the last time he had seen him. Carolyn, too, he recalled. What were they so relaxed about? Then his mind made one of those off-the-wall connections, put two and two together and got eight. The thought didn’t make him feel any better. Dinner arrived, and he turned his attention to his sweetbreads with a sauce of morel mushrooms.
Mike spoke up. “Arrington, how are you enjoying your new airplane?”
“It’s just wonderful, Mike, and I thank you again for helping me choose it.”
“I thought you would like it.”
“Mike,” she asked, “what, exactly does your company do?”
“Strategic Services supplies security and investigative services to governments, corporations, and individuals worldwide,” Mike replied. “We also have several manufacturing divisions, including those for armored vehicles, body armor, and electronics associated with our work.”
“Is it fun?” she asked.
Mike laughed. “Sometimes.”
“Mike,” Stone said, “Woodman amp; Weld would like to buy me a car. Is the one you loaned me for sale?”
