Son of Stone

by Stuart Woods

  “Are you in immediate touch with her?”

  “I can’t comment on that—attorney-client privilege.”

  “I suppose that applies, especially if she’s a fugitive from justice.”

  “I’ll ignore that. Send me the paperwork, and I’ll have a go. See you.”

  “Just a minute, we’re not finished,” Stone said. “There’s the issue of a financial settlement.”

  “Oh? What’s Mr. Fisher offering?”

  “He’s offering nothing,” Stone replied. “What will Mrs. Fisher offer?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Certainly not. I believe we’re both aware that Mrs. Fisher acquired substantial assets during the marriage. Whereas Mr. Fisher did not.”

  “If you’re talking about those nasty press reports of her looting the family firm, that’s all nonsense.”

  “Then why is she on the FBI’s most-wanted list, along with her brother?”

  “You know I can’t discuss that.”

  Stone suddenly had an idea. “We can avoid discussing that in court if Mrs. Fisher would be amenable to sharing some of her premarital assets instead.”

  “What did you have in mind, exactly?” Keener asked warily.

  “Well, I’m informed that Mrs. Fisher had a substantial account at her father’s firm. She won’t be needing that.”

  “That’s outrageous!” Keener said.

  “So is running off with the piggy bank,” Stone replied. “If you give it some thought, I think you’ll see that this is an easy way out for her.”

  “Send me the papers,” Keener said.

  “There is the problem of service,” Stone said. “Can you accept service on her behalf?”

  “Yes.”

  “It will be done.” Both men hung up, and Stone buzzed Joan.

  “Print out a boilerplate divorce document with Herbie as the complainant and the cause as abandonment by Stephanie, contingent on an agreed settlement, then messenger it over to Keener.”

  “Will do.”

  Stone went back to his crossword, but almost immediately, Joan buzzed him again.

  “Arrington on line one.”

  Stone picked it up. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better,” she said. “It was just an infection, not a recurrence, so an antibiotic fixed everything. I’ll be arriving late this afternoon. Can you have your car meet me?”

  “Of course. What time?”

  “Five o’clock?”

  “You can avoid rush hour if you land at three.”

  “Good point. I guess I can do that. How are you and Peter getting along?”

  “Famously.” Stone told her about the meeting at Centurion.

  “The little devil!”

  “Not so little; you should have warned me.”

  “You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

  “Not a word,” Stone said. “He told me.”

  “What!”

  “He picked up the photograph of my father in my study, and it was all over. I answered a few questions, but he’s still going to want to hear from you.”

  “Oh, God,” she said. “I’ve dreaded this.”

  “Everybody’s very impressed with him, especially his maturity,” Stone said.

  “I know, I know. He taught himself to read at three, and by four he was speaking like an adult, in complete paragraphs. He was just astonishing; he still is.”

  “I’ll go along with that.”

  “You have to remember, Stone, that although he speaks like an adult, he’s still only sixteen years old, next month, and in many ways, that’s his emotional age.”

  “I haven’t seen a single sign of that,” Stone said.

  “It will come up, believe me.”

  “You didn’t tell me he was about to have a birthday.”

  “I apologize; that was a lapse on my part. Do you want to know what to get him for a present?”

  “That’s already taken care of.”

  “Oh, good. All right, I’ll see you late this afternoon.”

  “Where would you like to have dinner?”

  “Did you and Peter dine at Elaine’s last night?”

  “Yes, with Dino and Ben. He and Peter are going to the movies this afternoon.”

  “Then let’s go to the Four Seasons.”

  “I’ll have Joan book it. Eight o’clock?”

  “All right. Bye-bye.” She hung up.

  Stone gave Joan her instructions.

  “All right, I’ll get the i-stuff on my lunch hour.”

  “You can still take a lunch hour,” Stone said. “Tell the Woodman & Weld operator to pick up.” They had a telephone arrangement with the law firm so that Stone could be called there, and the caller patched through to his home office or a message taken.

  Stone hung up and started on the crossword.

  8

  Stone was at his desk at mid-afternoon when Joan buzzed.

  “Seth Keener on one.”

  Stone picked up. “Yes, Seth?”

  “My client has agreed to accept Mr. Fisher’s terms.”

  “Good. When can I expect the paperwork back for his signature?”

  “Will you accept a fax?”

  “Does she have access to a color fax?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Have her sign in blue ink and fax without a heading, then FedEx the originals. What is her proposal for a settlement?”

  “She has a little over three million in her account at the family firm.”

  “I think he might accept that.”

  “She’s willing, but the account is frozen. He’ll have to wait until the feds unfreeze it.”

  “And that will be about the same day as Antarctica unfreezes.”

  “If you say so. She has no other assets available. I’m sure Mr. Fisher wouldn’t want ... questionable assets.” He paused. “There is another possibility, but we’ll have to go off the record.”

  Stone pressed the record button on his phone. “What is her proposal?”

  “She’s willing to backdate a transfer of her assets to a date before her departure of the country.”

  “That would be felonious. Let’s go back on the record.”

  “All right.”

  “What is the family firm’s position? I would be surprised if they or their insurance company haven’t made a pass at that account.”

  “I’m looking at a printout from online,” Keener said. “There’s no notation to that effect. I’ll e-mail you the user name and password when we receive Mr. Fisher’s signed documents.”

  “Is there a notation from the feds?”

  “Yes, from the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York.”

  “I’m willing to recommend to my client that he accept the account as full settlement in the divorce.”

  “With a notation mentioning the federal freeze order, of course.”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, send me an addendum to the divorce complaint and I’ll get it taken care of.”

  “Right,” Stone said, and hung up. He buzzed Joan and dictated the addendum. “And get me Herbie,” he said.

  Herbie came on the line. “Yes, Stone?”

  “I hope you didn’t catch cold.”

  “No, your suggestion of the hot bath and the brandy worked very well.”

  “I have a proposal from Stephanie’s attorney.”

  “Shoot.”

  “She’ll agree to the divorce with her abandonment as the cause, and she’ll sign over to you her account at the family firm, which amounts to three million dollars.”

  “Really?”

  “There’s a catch: the feds have frozen the account.”

  “Any chance it will ever be unfrozen?”

  “Slim and none, but I can have a go, and the best part is, you win. That will look just fine in the papers, if it makes the papers.”

  “I like that,” Herbie said. “Send me the documents.”

  “Will do.” Stone hung
up and buzzed Joan. “Have you noticed Herbie becoming more sane?” he asked.

  “Maybe it’s a prolonged lucid interval,” she replied. “He does seem more together.”

  “Do you have any idea why?”

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you this, but he’s been going to law school for the past three years.”

  Stone was astonished. “But he already has that bogus Internet law degree, and he ostensibly passed the bar exam.”

  “I think he feels guilty about that, and after all, what else would he do with his days? It’s not like he works for a living.”

  “You have a point.” The doorbell rang. Stone hung up and ran upstairs and opened the door. Arrington stood there, looking sharp in a Chanel suit with a gorgeous sable coat over her shoulders. They embraced and Stone sent her luggage up to the master suite.

  “You look wonderful,” he said, helping her out of her coat and hanging it in the hall closet.

  “I don’t know about the master suite,” she said. “Maybe I should sleep in a guest room.”

  Stone thought about that. “It’s up to you,” he said, “but I wouldn’t enjoy sneaking around.”

  “All right, since Peter knows, anyway.”

  “Good.” He took her upstairs and got out a couple of luggage racks for her bags.

  “I’d like a nap,” she said. “Alone.”

  “Of course. Get unpacked and relax; I have work to do anyway.” He kissed her and left her alone.

  Joan was buzzing him as he got back to his office. “Leo Goldman on one.”

  Stone picked up. “Hello, Leo. Are you back in L.A.?”

  “I’m on the Centurion jet,” Leo replied. “Listen, how old is Arrington’s kid?”

  Stone thought for a fraction of a second. “He just turned eighteen.”

  “Good,” Leo said.

  “Why?”

  “If he’s eighteen, he can sign a contract.”

  “A contract for what?”

  “I want to buy his movie.”

  Stone had forgotten about Peter’s submission. “Why?”

  “Because it’s better than anything indie I saw at the Sundance Film Festival last year.”

  “Leo, is Peter’s name written anywhere on the material he gave you?”

  “Ah, no; there’s no title page.”

  “Leo, this is what I want you to do: the moment you’re back in L.A. I want you to FedEx that script and the DVD back to me, and I want you never to mention it to anybody until I give you the okay.”

  “But, Stone, it’s good! One might even say brilliant—at least one would if one knew it was written and directed by an eighteen-year-old.”

  “It’s complicated, Leo, and believe me, you don’t want to piss off his mother. She is, after all, Centurion’s largest stockholder. I want your word.”

  “As long as I have your word to see the finished product before anyone else in the business.”

  “You have it,” Stone replied.

  “Done. You’ll have it back tomorrow.”

  “And you won’t keep a copy, Leo.”

  “I give you my word on that, too.”

  “Thanks, Leo. I’ll look forward to receiving it tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Stone.” Leo sounded very disappointed.

  Stone tried not to think what would happen if word got around L.A. that a sixteen-year-old boy, ostensibly the son of a huge movie star, had written and directed a feature film. The thought of the aftermath made sweat pop out on his brow.

  9

  Stone woke Arrington with a light kiss on the lips.

  “What time is it?”

  “You have an hour and a half until dinner,” Stone said.

  “Peter just got home from the movies, and he’s showering.”

  She sat up. “I think I’d better do that, too. It will wake me up.”

  “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

  “Oh, yes, I was just tired from the trip. I’m feeling much better after my nap.” She got up and began unpacking her bags and putting her clothes in the second dressing room. “Is there anything I should know about your conversations with Peter before we sit down to dinner?”

  “Yes. I got him an iPhone for his birthday, which I know is against your wishes, but there will be a condition that he leave it with you when he returns to school in January. I’d like him to have it while he’s in New York.”

  “I suppose that’s a good idea. Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Peter has some ideas about his future, but I think you should hear them from him.”

  “Anything that will give me a heart attack?”

  Stone laughed. “I doubt it, and I think you should hear him out.”

  “Peter can be very persuasive,” Arrington said, slipping out of her suit and hanging it up.

  “You’ve lost some weight,” he commented.

  “Yes, I’ve been trying.”

  “You look very elegant.”

  She slipped off her underwear and tossed it into the hamper, then came and put her arms around him. “I hope I haven’t lost anything you liked.”

  He caressed her ass and her breasts. “Nope, it’s all still there.”

  She kissed him. “You can explore later,” she said, then went into her bathroom to run a tub.

  They walked up the stairs into the Four Seasons restaurant and checked in at the desk.

  “Is this the power lunch place?” Peter asked, looking around.

  Stone thought he looked very handsome in his blue suit. “Yes, right over there, in the Grill Room. We’re dining in the Pool Room.”

  “They play pool here?”

  “No, they have a pool.” They were led to a table at poolside. Stone ordered champagne for Arrington and himself and Peter asked for fizzy water and was brought San Pellegrino.

  When the champagne came, Stone raised his glass. “Happy birthday, Peter.” He nodded to the captain, who brought over two giftwrapped boxes. “The smaller one is from your mother.”

  “But she already gave me my laptop,” Peter said.

  “It’s a second gift,” Arrington said, “and it has strings attached.”

  Peter ripped off the paper. “Wow!” he said. “You’re letting me have a phone?”

  “The strings are: you leave it with me when you return to school.”

  “Oh,” he said, looking disappointed. He opened the other box. “An iPad! Wonderful.” He switched it on.

  “It will need charging,” Stone said. “Leave it until later.”

  Peter put the gifts back into their boxes, and a waiter took away the tattered wrappings. Peter looked at them both. “Thank you so much,” he said. “I think you two should get married,” he added.

  Arrington put her face in her hands. “Oh, God!”

  “You need to edit your thoughts before speaking, Peter,” Stone said.

  Arrington took her hands away. “You certainly do, young man. My marital status is not at your disposal; in fact it’s none of your business.”

  “Yes, it is,” Peter replied. “It will make me happy.”

  “You’re already happy,” she said. “Stone and I will make any decisions about our personal lives without your further input. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, but not sheepishly. “Oh, and I want to change my name.”

  Arrington looked at him, baffled. “What’s wrong with Peter? It’s a very nice name.”

  “No, I want to change Calder to Barrington.”

  She stared at him, speechless.

  “You don’t know what I’ve had to go through at school for having a movie star for a father. I don’t want to hear that at my next school.”

  Arrington’s face became sympathetic. “Oh, I’m sorry, Peter, I didn’t know.”

  “It wasn’t so bad in L.A., because lots of kids had movie people for parents, but in Virginia it’s very, very different.”

  Arrington thought about it for a moment, then turned toward Stone. “Wh
at do you think about this?”

  “I wouldn’t be in the least displeased,” Stone replied.

  “Do you think he’s old enough to make that decision?”

  “It’s your decision, really,” Stone said, “but it needs to be decided, one way or the other, before he gets any older.”

  “What would we tell them at the school?” Arrington asked Peter.

  “That we’re changing my name from my stepfather’s to my father’s.”

  “I suppose that’s accurate,” she said.

  “I would be a lot more comfortable in myself,” Peter said.

  She looked at her son, then at Stone. “How can I object?”

  “Welcome to the Barrington family, Peter,” Stone said, “such as it is. You and I are the only living members.”

  “Thank you, Dad,” Peter said.

  “He never called Vance that,” Arrington said.

  “He asked me to call him Vance,” Peter said.

  “Yes, he did,” she admitted. “I wondered why he did that.”

  “Because he knew something I didn’t,” Peter said.

  The captain came with menus, and the subject was put aside while they ordered. Then, when the menus had been taken away, Peter said, “Next subject: my new school.”

  “Oh?” Arrington said. “What about it?”

  “I want it to be Knickerbocker Hall.”

  “That has a familiar ring,” she said. “Where is it?”

  “Right here, in New York,” Peter said. “On the Upper East Side.”

  “A boarding school on the Upper East Side?”

  “It’s not a boarding school,” Peter pointed out.

  Stone intervened. “Peter now has a home in New York,” he said.

  Arrington was looking back and forth between them, her brow furrowed.

  “It has a performing arts program, including a film school. I want to do college-level work there and then go to Yale Drama School.”

  “Was this your idea?” she asked Stone.

  “Only the part about his living with me while he’s in school. The rest is entirely his; I didn’t know about Knickerbocker.”

  “Let me think about it,” Arrington said.

  “And I want to be eighteen,” Peter said.

  “You will be, in two years,” his mother pointed out.

  “I mean, when I go to Knickerbocker, I want them to think I’m eighteen. I don’t want to be the only sixteen-year-old among a bunch of eighteen-year-olds.”