Cut and Thrust

by Stuart Woods

  “How do you do, Ms. Keaton?”

  “Ann is deputy manager for Kate Lee’s campaign.”

  “I know your name well from our donor lists, Mr. Goldman,” Ann said. “In fact, you’re on my list to call.”

  Leo began slapping his pockets. “I seem to have forgotten my checkbook,” he said.

  “That’s all right,” Ann said, “I’ll hunt you down later.”

  “Seriously,” Leo said, “the check is literally in the mail.”

  “I’ll alert the postal services.”

  Stone and Ann progressed into Ben’s beautifully furnished house and found a pair of comfortable chairs.

  “I didn’t see the governor,” Ann said. “He didn’t make it?”

  “He did, inviting the vice president, too, and he has already moved on to his next engagement.”

  “Then you didn’t get a chance to talk with him?”

  “We had a very nice chat, and we understood each other perfectly. You heard that Senator Stockman died?”

  “I had a call ten minutes ago.”

  “Funniest thing happened as we were discussing how Stanton’s gifts would so well qualify him for a Senate seat. Seconds after the announcement on the six o’clock news, the governor’s phone rang, and guess who it was?”

  “I’ve no doubt it was Marty.”

  “Collins didn’t take the call—in fact, he turned off his phone.”

  “Do you think he got your message?”

  “Certainly he did. He’s a very astute young man, and without actually saying so, he let me know that if Stanton fails to get a majority of the delegates on the first ballot, he would be with Kate. I suggested that if Stanton knew he had the Senate seat for a backup, he might be easier to deal with at the convention.”

  “And how did he react to that?”

  “We were in perfect agreement. Of course, he didn’t say a word that would prevent him from giving the seat to someone else, or that he would support Kate if Stanton failed, but he intimated it, in the way that politicians do.”

  “And how did Marty and Charlene Joiner happen to meet?”

  “I will cheerfully take the blame for that one,” Stone replied. “I think they’re made for each other, now that Marty is functionally single again.”

  “I said you were wicked, didn’t I?”

  “You did, and I’m grateful for the compliment.”

  “I hope Marty can’t contain himself and starts squiring Ms. Joiner around the city while everybody who is anybody in the party is in town.”

  “It’s just the sort of brazen behavior that might help, isn’t it?”

  “I long to see their photograph together on every front page.”

  “Then we’ll have to take one, won’t we?” Stone said. “Or better, get Peter to.” He took out his phone and pressed a speed-dial button. “Peter? It’s your father. Would you be kind enough to take or have someone else take a photograph of the vice president nuzzling Charlene Joiner? It would be so nice to have as a souvenir. Thank you.” Stone hung up. “Consider it done.”

  “And I know just who to e-mail it to,” Ann said, “for the maximum possible effect.”

  Stone and Ann had a look around Ben’s house, then returned to Peter’s.

  “I got the photograph,” Peter said.

  Stone gave him Ann’s e-mail address, then he looked around the room. “What happened to the veep and Charlene?”

  “Gone,” Peter said. “I heard him tell an aide to call Spago for a table.”

  “Very good,” Stone said.

  “Very good indeed,” Ann said, as she dialed a number. “The VP and Charlene Joiner will be arriving at Spago shortly,” she said to whoever answered. “Greet them and e-mail me the shots.” She hung up.

  “Who was that?”

  “A photographer acquaintance of mine,” Ann said. “He hangs around outside chic spots, waiting for celebs to show. He also has two spotters cruising the ones where he can’t be and they communicate by cell phone and he rushes over on his motorcycle.”

  “In that case, please hold Peter’s shots,” Stone said. “Maybe use them later if you really need them.”

  “All right, I’ll save my ammo.”

  A buffet table was operating now, and they served themselves dinner.

  “I didn’t get any lunch today,” Ann said.

  “Poor girl.”

  “Kate ran me off my feet. She visited four caucuses, spoke at two luncheons, and went to three cocktail parties, and she was still making ’em laugh at the end. Now she has two dinners to attend, but she excused me.”

  “Good Kate,” Stone said, digging into his paella. A waiter brought them glasses of wine. “Are you encouraged by how things are going?” he asked Ann.

  “They’re going so well, it scares me,” she replied. “Something’s got to go wrong soon, and I hope it doesn’t sneak past me.”

  “Not much gets past you,” Stone said.

  “You’re catching on pretty quick, yourself,” she said. “You’ve managed to find out what’s on the governor’s mind and plant lascivious things in the veep’s head and it’s not even eight o’clock yet.”

  They had just finished dinner when Immi Gotham turned up, causing heads to snap. She came and greeted Stone, who introduced her to Ann.

  “We’re all looking forward to your performance at The Arrington,” Stone said.

  “I’m looking forward to it, too,” she replied. “Hattie and I have been rehearsing.” Immi was stolen away by somebody.

  “I like it out here,” Ann said. “The quality of celebrities is better than in New York, and when they turn up, they’re more relaxed. Hattie is a pianist?”

  “A brilliant one. And a composer, too. She scores all of Peter’s films.”

  “All two of them?”

  “And more to come. He and Ben never stop working, and Leo Goldman is thrilled to have them on the Centurion lot. They’ve turned Vance Calder’s old cottage into their offices.” Calder, the late movie star, had been Peter’s stepfather.

  “How old can Peter be? Twenty-five?”

  “Not that old. The boy is a prodigy.”

  “Does he get that from you?”

  “No, and not from his mother, either. It must be some sort of genetic mutation.”

  “And who are Billy and Betsy Burnett?”

  “That one is difficult to explain,” Stone said. “Someday, when I’ve known you for forty or fifty years, I’ll tell you the whole story. Billy is a jack-of-all-trades who has become an associate producer with Peter and Ben. He knows more about everything than anyone I know. And anyone you know, too. He can fix anything, build anything, and fly airplanes—he’s been instructing Peter, Ben, and Hattie. And I wouldn’t want to have him for an enemy.”

  “I like his wife, Betsy.”

  “She handles Peter’s PR, schedules interviews, and makes his travel arrangements, among other things. She’s made herself invaluable in the production office.”

  “You seem to have such a perfect life, Stone. Do you have any enemies?”

  “Apparently I do,” Stone said. “Last year I got into it with some Russians, out of Paris, and I thought it had ended.”

  “Hasn’t it?”

  “It seems there is an unending supply of greedy Russians. Last year they wanted The Arrington. Next year, who knows?”

  Ann looked at her watch. “I know it’s early, but I’m fading fast.”

  “Do you have a car, or do you want to ride with me?”

  “I was dropped off by a campaign car. I’m with you.”

  They said their good nights and found The Arrington’s car waiting for them out front.

  They had just pulled away from the house when Ann’s phone buzzed and she answered it. “Oh, look,” she said, showing Stone the phone. “Mar
ty and Charlene in Hollywoodland!”

  The sidewalk in front of Spago was choked with paparazzi, and Stanton and Charlene were elbowing their way through the mob, smiles fixed on their faces, apparently enjoying themselves.

  “I guarantee you,” Ann said, “that picture will be on the front page of the New York Post tomorrow morning. And a lot of other rags, too.”

  Stone was having breakfast in bed with Ann the following morning when his phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Stone, it’s Ed Eagle. How are you?”

  “I’m very well, Ed, and it’s good to hear from you. Are you in Santa Fe?”

  “No, I’m in L.A. for the convention. I’m a New Mexico delegate.”

  “When did you get in?”

  “Last night. We’re staying at Susannah’s place in Century Center—unless you can get me something at The Arrington.”

  “Come and stay with me. I have an unoccupied guest room, and you haven’t seen my place since it was finished. Get here in time for lunch and we’ll catch up.”

  “I’d love to. Susannah can’t make it until later—she’s having a beauty day at some spa or other.”

  “Come at half past twelve. I’ll leave your name at the gate, but prepare for a thorough pat down from a security guard.”

  “As long as she’s beautiful,” Ed said. “See you then.” He hung up.

  “That was my friend Ed Eagle,” Stone said to Ann. “Do you know him?”

  “He’s a New Mexico delegate. I’ve seen his name on the list. Who is he?”

  “A remarkable man. He was born in Brooklyn to a Hasidic Jewish family and became a fanatical basketball player in high school. His family wouldn’t countenance his continuing his athletic career—they wanted him in the family diamond business—so he left the sect and got himself a basketball scholarship to Arizona State. By that time, he had grown to six feet seven inches tall. He was a great player, making all-American for three years, but he didn’t play pro ball—went to law school instead. Now he lives in Santa Fe, and he’s widely thought to be the best trial attorney west of the Mississippi.”

  “I’ve read something about him. Somehow, I thought he was an Indian.”

  “People thought that at ASU, too, and he never corrected them. It amuses him to just let people go on thinking it. Oh, and he’s married to the film actress Susannah Wilde.”

  “She’s wonderful. I love her work!”

  “He had an earlier wife, though, who turned out to be a real piece of work. Let me see if I can get her story straight—there’s a lot of it. Oh, yes, she’s from a Jewish family, too, and she was married to an important diamond merchant who was considerably older than she. Unfortunately, she formed an attachment to a boyfriend who had a criminal streak in him and a desire to hit it big. Using information he got from her, he walked into her husband’s New York offices and robbed the place of every stone in the safes. Something went wrong, and the boyfriend shot and killed her husband, then he beat it out of town without her.

  “She cooperated with the police, and she was helpful in catching the guy, but she ended up doing a stretch at a women’s prison in Westchester County. Ed was up there on a case, met her, and was impressed. He told her when she got out to come to Santa Fe and he’d help her restart her life. She had a couple of years left on her sentence. To his surprise, she turned up a couple of months later, having gotten out on an early-release program, and the two of them hit it off. Pretty soon they were married, and he thought it was going okay, then one day he got a call from his broker saying that she had sold most of his stock portfolio and taken all of the considerable amount of cash he had there.”

  “This is some story,” Ann said. “If I ever write my novel . . .”

  “There’s more. He went to Mexico City and managed to get the bulk of his money back, then he put a couple of trackers on her to bring her back to the States. Meantime, she had killed a Mexican cop in Acapulco who had attacked her, and they got ahold of her before she could leave the country. She was sent to a women’s prison east of Acapulco and within a pretty short time she had escaped and somehow made her way back to the States, where she got arrested for another murder. She was tried and, while awaiting the verdict, she escaped from the courthouse and with the help of a friend decamped to a spa somewhere around Palm Springs. It was there, a few days later, that she learned she had been acquitted at trial. At this point, all they had against her was jailbreak, and she negotiated that down to a suspended sentence.”

  “Is there more? I’m exhausted.”

  “There’s more. She met and married a Silicon Valley entrepreneur who had made a billion in the electronics business. He got himself killed in a freeway accident and she inherited everything. Now she lives in San Francisco, married to a car salesman she bought a Bentley from, and she bought him the dealership. She’s also inherited a significant chunk of stock in Centurion Studios.

  “But all this newfound wealth has not caused her to stop hating Ed Eagle. On two occasions, she’s hired hit men to kill him. Both attempts failed, but Ed lives with the knowledge that she could try again.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “She didn’t change it after leaving Ed—it’s still Barbara Eagle, as far as I know.”

  “Holy shit! I know about her. She’s very big in half a dozen arts organizations in San Francisco, and she was a big Democratic contributor until someone uncovered her more unsavory aspects and Dick Collins stopped taking her money. Now she’s a big-time Republican contributor!”

  “As far as I’m concerned,” Stone said, “they can have her.”

  “I want to meet Ed Eagle,” Ann said.

  “He’s coming to lunch here today. Can you shake free?”

  “I can try. Twelve-thirty, did you say?”

  “Out by the pool. Susannah won’t be there today, she’s spa-ing.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” she said.

  “I think you’ll like Ed—I know he’ll like you.”

  Stone was waiting by the pool when Ed Eagle arrived. Manolo saw to the couple’s luggage, then brought a pitcher of iced tea for Stone and his guest.

  “You’re looking well, Ed.”

  “You, too, Stone. I was awfully sorry about Arrington’s death.”

  “I got your note, thanks, and the flowers. Is Susannah well?”

  “She’s just great. She’s been developing her own films for a while now and she enjoys that.”

  “She’ll have to meet my son, Peter. He and Dino’s son, Ben, are at Centurion now.”

  “I’ve read about him and I’ve seen both his films. Susannah and I were impressed.”

  “I’m sorry she couldn’t make lunch. My girlfriend, Ann Keaton, may join us if she can get away from work.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She’s Kate Lee’s deputy campaign manager, and, as you can imagine, she’s pretty busy this week.”

  “I expect so.”

  “Let’s give her a few minutes before we go ahead and eat,” Stone said. “Tell me, what’s going on with your ex-wife these days?”

  “She remains a thorn in my flesh,” Ed said. “I won’t feel entirely safe until she’s dead.”

  “Just don’t help her along.”

  “It’s crossed my mind,” Eagle said. “Susannah would go up to San Francisco and shoot her on sight if I’d let her.”

  Stone laughed. “That would be even worse than doing it yourself.”

  “You’d think that with all the money she’s got these days she would forget about me, but, no, she hasn’t.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Stone looked up to see Ann approaching, and the two men stood up. Stone introduced them and poured her a glass of iced tea.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you,” Ed said. “I hear you’re up to your neck in Kate Lee’s campaign.”
r />   “Over my head, half the time. Oh, Stone, I was right—the photograph of Marty Stanton and Charlene Joiner made the front page of the Post! It’s also all over the West Coast papers.”

  “Why hasn’t Stanton dropped out of the race?” Ed asked.

  “We’re working on it,” Ann replied.

  “I’d sure like to see Kate get the nomination,” Ed said. “I’ve already sent money. Stone, I hear you were in at the beginning, among the big twenty-one contributors.”

  “Best money I ever spent,” Stone said, “if she gets elected.”

  Ed looked around him. “This is certainly a beautiful place,” he said. “Why don’t you open an Arrington in Santa Fe?”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Stone said.

  “A client of mine has a little ranch for sale near Tesuque, on the outskirts of the city, that would make a good site.”

  “I’ll speak to the board about it,” Stone said. “We’re opening a hotel in Paris next year with a French partner, but we haven’t made another move in the States yet.”

  “I’d be glad to work with you if you want to come to Santa Fe. Susannah and I would invest, too.”

  “Let me talk to some people,” Stone said.

  “I’ve never been to Santa Fe,” Ann said. “What’s it like?”

  “God’s country,” Ed said. “Seven thousand feet up in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, beautiful climate, great restaurants and art galleries.”

  “We can stop there on the way home, if you like,” Stone said.

  “Only if we lose the nomination,” Ann said. “Then I’d need somewhere to lick my wounds. But if Kate wins, then I’m going to have more on my hands than I know what to do with.”

  “That gives me a terrible conflict of interest,” Stone said.

  The phone on the table buzzed, and Stone picked it up. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Bill Eggers for you, Mr. Barrington,” Manolo said.

  “Excuse me a minute while I take this,” Stone said. He picked up the phone and walked away from the table. “Hello, Bill?” Eggers was the managing partner of Stone’s law firm, Woodman & Weld.

  “Hello, Stone,” Eggers said. “I know you’re having too much fun out there, so I scared up some work for you.”