Fast and Loose

by Stuart Woods

  “You must be the most successful prisoner in the history of the federal system,” Stone observed.

  “Don’t you believe it. I was just looking for information, while others were establishing fortunes and others were conducting criminal enterprises.”

  “Was prison security that loose, that these things could go on?”

  “You have to remember that the Atlanta Federal Prison was closed, then later reopened in a small way, to contain special prisoners, and employing a very small staff. None of the inmates had histories of violence—they were mostly white-collar thieves and a few other, special cons, like me, who were put there to keep prisoners in other jails from killing them. A few people had cell phones and laptops, though they weren’t used openly, but communication with the outside was fairly easy.”

  “I must remember, if I ever commit a crime, to get sent to Atlanta,” Stone said.

  “I’ll note that preference in your file,” Dino said.

  “Stone,” Rawls said, “you don’t seem to be getting what this means.”

  Stone blinked. “Should I be?”

  “You remember I told you that St. Clair had his own police force?”

  “I do remember.”

  “Well, Erik Macher was its chief, and he still is. Except now he has complete power. He doesn’t have to wait for St. Clair to tell him to remove somebody from living, he can just issue the order himself.”

  “Now, why would he do that and jeopardize his newly found position?”

  “Because he is a revenge freak, and he’s going to get drunk with power very quickly.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever encountered anybody quite like that,” Stone said. “How would you define a revenge freak?”

  “Someone who, when slighted—however slightly—extracts a price from the slighter, usually one all out of proportion to the seriousness of the slight.”

  “Even unto death?”

  “Death was Macher’s work when he was at the CIA. I mean, he always had a title as a cover, and he did carry out covert operations for the Agency, but they usually revolved around the removal of one or more of the opposition. He was instrumental in the establishment of the Agency’s drone program, which has carried assassination to new and exotic heights.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen the pictures of the firing of Hellfire missiles through windows, exploding entire houses.”

  “Oh, now it’s much more refined than that,” Ed said. “Now some of them are equipped with silenced .50 caliber sniper rifles that can, remotely, put a round into the ear of an opponent and not make a sound heard on the ground. Heads just suddenly explode, alarming others nearby.”

  “Please tell me that St. Clair did not have a fleet of those standing by.”

  “Not a fleet, but Macher, through his connections with Agency suppliers, managed to corral a couple. But I digress, I don’t mean necessarily that Macher is going to hunt any of us down with drones.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it, and I’m glad that I hardly ever came to Macher’s attention.”

  “Don’t you believe it,” Rawls said.

  “Huh?”

  “St. Clair knew everything about you and me that could be known, and it was Macher who gathered the intelligence on us and anyone else St. Clair dealt with. He was an information freak. He had to know everything about everybody.”

  “Then he would have known he was backing a political candidate, Nelson Knott, who had a proclivity for raping and sometimes impregnating women who worked for him.”

  “Of course he did, and he took the greatest precautions to see that that news never came out. He took the view that if there was no evidence and no witnesses, it never happened.”

  “But his precautions were not successful.”

  “Right. You managed to hide one of the women and her family at your home in England, and that recording she made blew the lid off Knott’s candidacy and, incidentally, off the candidate, as well.”

  “How colorfully you put it.”

  “That’s the sort of interference that Macher would take personally.”

  “Oh, he’s thin-skinned, is he?”

  “Thin-skinned and hard-shelled. Simultaneously. You must remember that most of the work St. Clair put into creating Knott as a candidate was actually performed by Macher and his wide-ranging PD.”

  Stone took a swig of his bourbon and let it find its way down. “Oh, shit,” he said.

  6

  The Carlssons, father and daughter, arrived on time for drinks, and after Stone had served everybody, Dr. Paul handed Stone a brown envelope.

  “What’s this?” Stone asked.

  “Some photographs. Take a look at them.”

  Stone opened the envelope and removed half a dozen color photographs of a Concordia 40. “This is gorgeous,” Stone said. “Better equipped and newer-looking than mine.”

  “It was one of the original Concordias, the ones built in Germany, like yours,” Carlsson said. “Would you consider it an adequate replacement for your yacht?”

  “More than adequate,” Stone said. “Superior, I would say.”

  “Then if you will accept it as a fair replacement, it’s yours, and I will deal with my insurance company for the cost.”

  “Then I accept. Where is she?”

  “She’s out of the water in Rockland, but ready to launch after an extensive refit. One of my crew knew somebody who knew somebody, and there she was. She’ll be at your dock tomorrow.”

  “You take my breath away,” Stone said, handing them to Dino to see.

  “We very nearly took your breath away permanently, and I’m relieved that you like the replacement Concordia.”

  Ed Rawls looked at the photos and raised his glass. “To new old boats,” he said, and everybody drank.

  —

  OVER DINNER Paul Carlsson was very quiet, and his daughter noticed. “Dad, is something wrong?”

  “Not wrong, exactly,” Carlsson said, “just a little worrying.”

  “Anything an attorney and a policeman and a retired spy can help with?” Stone asked.

  “I don’t think so, it’s a business thing.”

  “The Carlsson Clinic is your family business, isn’t it?” Dino asked.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “The city sent me there for my last physical.”

  “I hope it was performed to your satisfaction.”

  “Well, the city was satisfied, and that’s all I cared about.”

  Carlsson sighed. “I’m not sure it will be the same clinic this time next year.”

  “Oh, Dad,” Marisa said, “this isn’t about that thing with that man St. Clair, is it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “But he died—surely he’s not a problem anymore.”

  “May I ask,” Stone said, “are you referring to Christian St. Clair?”

  “I am,” Carlsson replied. “Shortly before his death, he made a takeover offer for the Carlsson clinics. I, my daughter, and my two sons own forty percent of the stock, but over the years we’ve awarded shares to many of our employees, mostly doctors and nurses, who were valuable to our work. They’ve formed an association, and St. Clair made an offer—an inadequate one, which was apparently his practice—for the stock held by the association members.”

  “Did they accept?”

  “They voted to accept in principle, dependent on a much better offer. Selling their shares would make many of them wealthy, some of them very wealthy, so the prospect is tempting to them. And now I’ve heard that St. Clair’s business interests will be run by a man named Macher, who apparently has a reputation that is something less than savory.”

  “Who is representing you in this matter?”

  “We have a competent firm who represents us in our normal operations and who has defended us in malpractice matters, though very few of them, but I don’t believe they are equipped to take on this challenge, and we’re faced with a deadline. St. Clair’s offer is to expire in about three weeks.”

&n
bsp; “I see,” Stone replied. “If I can be of help, please let me know.” That was as far as he was prepared to go without encouragement from Carlsson.

  “Well, Dr. Carlsson,” Dino said, “since this transaction involves a hospital, you should know that our friend Stone is a well-known ambulance … chaser, and very good at it.”

  “Thank you for your confidence, Dino,” Stone said wryly, “but I’m sure Dr. Carlsson can address his problem without it.”

  “I confess that the matter crossed my mind when I saw your business card, while we were drying you out.”

  “And drying out is one of the things Stone does best,” Dino said. Everyone laughed. “Sorry, bad joke, but I couldn’t resist.”

  “I’ve heard of Woodman & Weld,” Carlsson said, “and after making a few calls to friends more knowledgeable than I in these matters, I must say I am impressed with what I’ve heard. Would your firm consider taking us on, Stone?”

  “I think we’d both benefit from sobriety before going into that, Dr. Carlsson, and we have taken drink this evening. May we discuss it tomorrow, in the cold light of day?”

  “Of course.”

  “I will say that I’m optimistic that we can find a solution to your problem.”

  “Thank you, I feel better already.”

  —

  AFTER COFFEE, the Carlssons excused themselves, and Stone walked them down to his dock, where their launch awaited. Carlsson extended his hand. “Thank you for dinner, Stone, and I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

  “Would ten o’clock here be convenient, Dr. Carlsson?”

  “Certainly, and you must call me Paul—everyone but my children does.”

  “Of course, Paul. See you tomorrow.” He waved them off, then walked back to the house. Dino and Ed Rawls had disappeared. Stone sat down and made a phone call to Arthur Steele, chairman and CEO of the Steele Insurance Group, a client, and on whose board he sat.

  “Good evening, Stone, is everything all right?”

  “I’m sorry to call so late, Art, but something has come up that I think might be of interest to you, and there are time constraints, so I thought I shouldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

  “That’s quite all right. How can I be of help?”

  Stone told him about being run down by the Carlssons’ yacht. “Paul Carlsson and his daughter came to dinner tonight, and he told me that Christian St. Clair, before his death, had made an offer for the Carlsson clinics. An association of stockholders who are current and former employees own sixty percent of the company, and apparently many of them are willing to cash out.”

  “I see,” Steele said. “And since it’s St. Clair, I’m sure the offer was inadequate.”

  “That was my view, as well. Perhaps you’ve heard that St. Clair’s enterprises are now in the hands of one Erik Macher.”

  “That came in on the grapevine this afternoon. What I know of him isn’t good.”

  “What would you think of the Carlsson Clinic as an investment?”

  “I’ve had many dealings with the Carlssons over the years, and I can tell you that it is a very well-run company, both medically and business-wise.”

  “I had thought that the case.”

  “Would you like me to investigate putting together a counteroffer for the clinic?”

  “I think Paul Carlsson might be receptive to that, if he could be assured of his family continuing to operate as they have in the past.”

  “Certainly. I think the family is one of the clinic’s greatest assets. They are very profitable and operate with little or no debt, and they own the real estate on which their branches sit.”

  “I’m meeting with Carlsson tomorrow morning, and I’ll pass on your interest and ask him for the documentation you’ll need to put together an offer.”

  “Does the St. Clair bid have a deadline?”

  “It does—it expires in three weeks.”

  “Then we’ll want to see that the association knows a better offer is in the wings. We don’t want them to cave in while we’re thinking about it.”

  “Good. Also, as you know, I sit on the board of Strategic Services, Mike Freeman’s security company, so I know that Mike is interested in acquisitions.”

  “Mike would make an excellent partner.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “Very good, Stone. Get back to me at the office after you and Carlsson have talked further.”

  “I’ll do that. Good night, Art.”

  “Good night.”

  Dino came into the house. “I drove Ed home,” he said. “He was a little worse for the wear, and it’s a dark night.”

  “Thank you, Dino.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve already called Art Steele,” Dino said.

  “Ah, you know me too well. And thank you so much for those remarks about ambulance chasing and drying out.”

  “Anytime, pal, anytime.”

  7

  The following morning Stone called his old friend Bill Eggers, who was the managing partner of Woodman & Weld.

  “Where are you?” Eggers asked.

  “In Maine.”

  “It’s very hot here.”

  “It’s very cool in Maine.”

  Eggers made a groaning noise.

  “Bill, I’ve recently met Dr. Paul Carlsson—”

  “Of the Carlsson Clinic?”

  “The same.” Stone explained the circumstances of the clinic’s ownership and the offer from St. Clair Enterprises. “Paul has asked me if the firm would represent him in dealing with this matter.”

  “Of course we would. I’d be delighted to add the Carlsson Clinic to our client roster.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I have another meeting with Paul this morning at ten, and I think it might be a good idea if you would e-mail me a representation contract for him to sign, and a fee schedule.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Have you heard about Erik Macher’s taking over at St. Clair?”

  “Yes, and I was stunned. Christian was a very elegant fellow, if ethically challenged at times, but Macher is a thug, by all accounts.”

  “He has Tommy Berenson on his side, and from what I hear, Berenson drew and witnessed the will.”

  “And I’m sure he was paid very handsomely to do so.”

  “Who would you have expected to succeed St. Clair in the event of his death?”

  “I should have thought one of his division heads, or a CEO at one of his companies.”

  “Not Macher?”

  “I’m sure Christian found him very useful, but not presentable. If this takeover bid should turn into a fight, you should expect him to fight dirty.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I’ll have my secretary e-mail you those documents immediately.”

  “Thanks, Bill.”

  Stone hung up and made some notes to himself for his meeting with Carlsson. Dino came down to breakfast and ordered bacon and eggs.

  “Dino, could you run a check on Erik Macher for me?” Stone asked.

  “Sure. What do you expect to find?”

  “I have no expectations, I just want to know what there is.”

  Dino made the call to his assistant, then hung up. “A few minutes,” he said.

  Stone had a thought; he called Billy Barnett, who worked as a producer in Stone’s son Peter’s film production company at Centurion Studios in L.A. Billy had once been known as Teddy Fay and had been a twenty-year employee of the CIA, rising to deputy head of the technical services division, which equipped intelligence operatives for their missions.

  “Stone, how are you?”

  “Very well, Billy, and you?”

  “Couldn’t be better. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m just looking for information about somebody who was a covert operative at the Agency. His time there should have overlapped yours.”

  “And who would that be?”

  “One Erik Macher.” Stone spelled it for him.

  “Sure
, I knew him—I probably outfitted him for a dozen or more missions.”

  “What was your general impression of him?”

  “The man was an assassin. Oh, he was a good officer overall and had a successful career at the Agency, but he had the reputation of being too ready to kill at the drop of a hat. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Very bright and adaptable—if one thing didn’t work, he’d find another way. I think management was always a little leery of him.”

  “That’s very interesting,” Stone said. “Thank you, Billy.”

  “Are you having dealings with Macher, Stone?”

  “I expect I will be.” Stone explained the situation.

  “I see. May I make a suggestion?”

  “Of course.”

  “Will you be having face-to-face meetings with him?”

  “Possibly. Certainly someone on our side will.”

  “I think that it might be a good idea for me to attend a meeting or two with him—not to say anything, just to let him know that I’m involved with his opposition. It might make him more careful in his dealings with you. I expect to be in New York for a few days soon.”

  “That sounds like a very good idea. I’d be interested in your assessment of the man.”

  “Let me know when you’d like me to be there. I can arrange my schedule accordingly.”

  “I’ll do that, Billy. How are my boys doing out there?” He referred to Peter and to Ben Bacchetti’s son, Dino, who was head of production at the studio.

  “Thriving,” Billy said. “You’d be proud.”

  “Well, I have to run. I’ll speak to you soon.” They said goodbye and hung up.

  —

  PAUL AND MARISA Carlsson arrived, and they sat down at the dining table to talk. Stone presented the representation agreement and the fee schedule. “Look these over and have anyone else you rely on for advice do so, too. Sign them at your leisure, and keep a copy for your records. I’d be happy to go through them with you.”

  “This morning,” Carlsson said, “I spoke to Dr. Willie Keeling, who is representing the stockholders’ association in the negotiations. I let him know that there would likely be a better offer coming and not to do anything rash. He said he’d check with me before taking any further action.”