Son of Stone

by Stuart Woods

  “Eight o’clock tonight be a good starting time?”

  “Yes, and I think it might be useful if your two men at some point had a conversation with the two sinister men regarding their intentions.”

  “Of course. Tell Mr. Fisher to expect three operatives at eight o’clock this evening. They will identify themselves properly.”

  “Thank you so much, Mike.” Stone hung up and called Herbie. “What are your plans for the evening, Herbie?”

  “I was going to go to Elaine’s for dinner, but I don’t want to leave the house, so I’m just going to order in.”

  “Reschedule,” Stone said, “and don’t bother getting a date, just be ready at eight.” Stone hung up.

  Arrington and Peter bustled in from Radio City, shaking snow off their coats and rubbing their red cheeks. “I need a drink,” Arrington said.

  “Right this way,” Stone replied, leading them to his study. He poured Knob Creeks for them, then made a hot cup of tea and honey for Peter. They all sat down.

  “How was the show?” Stone asked.

  “Spectacular!” Peter replied. “They even had three-D! And the Rockettes, wow!”

  “There’s an old Jack Douglas story,” Stone said, “—he was a comedy writer for The Tonight Show—about a young couple who went to Radio City Music Hall on their honeymoon, and during the stage show, the young man got up to go to the men’s room, took a wrong turn, and was kicked to death by the Rockettes.”

  Peter collapsed in laughter; it took Arrington a moment to get it, then she laughed, too.

  “I’m going to tell all my friends that happened when we were there,” Peter said.

  “Always attribute,” Stone replied. “It’s good manners.”

  “Will you take us to Elaine’s tonight?” Arrington asked. “Peter is dying to go.”

  “Of course.” Stone picked up the phone and made the reservation.

  “We have some news,” Arrington said, glancing at Peter, who smiled broadly.

  “What is it?” Stone asked, puzzled.

  “You are looking at the most recent high school graduate of Peter’s school,” she said, pointing at her son.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I had a call this afternoon from his headmaster. Peter neglected to tell me that he had a major oral examination just before the holidays.”

  “It was more like a conversation with half a dozen faculty members,” Peter said, looking sheepish.

  “I think that’s how they meant it to seem,” Arrington said. “Apparently, there was some concern among the faculty about Peter’s advanced state in all his courses, so they decided to test in depth his knowledge and comprehension of the high school curriculum. Long story short, he knocked the oral out of the park, and as a result they agreed, after he left, that the school had nothing further to offer him of any value. So, they have issued him a high school diploma, with honors, and recommended that he either be privately tutored or attend a good university with a program for exceptional students.”

  “Congratulations, Peter,” Stone said, clapping him on the back.

  “Well, it would have been boring to spend the rest of the academic year there, except for my film, of course, but I can work on that anywhere. All the footage is shot; I just have to edit and score it.”

  “And,” Arrington said, “it looks as though Peter himself has already scoped out his next few years of education.”

  “That, I have,” Peter said.

  “Well, I have news, too,” Stone said. “Woodman & Weld are arranging for a petition for Peter’s name change to be lodged with a Virginia court, and also—this surprised me greatly—a Los Angeles judge is directing that Peter’s original birth certificate be reissued with his new name . . . and age.”

  Peter was jumping up and down, now. “Yes, yes, yes,” he kept shouting.

  “If you approve,” Stone said, “you will be named after your grandfather: Malon Peter Barrington the Second.”

  “I love it!” Peter shouted.

  They finally managed to calm him down. “Now, Peter,” Stone said, “does the name Letitia Covington mean anything to you?”

  “Sure,” Peter said, “she’s the great old actress. Mom and I saw her in a big production at the Kennedy Center in Washington last year.”

  “Well, Ms. Covington is a founder of the performing arts program at Knickerbocker Hall, and you have an interview with her on Monday afternoon at three.”

  Peter’s jaw dropped. “How did you do this?”

  “The lady is the mother of one of Woodman & Weld’s clients, and a phone call was made on your behalf. She wants you to bring with you what you have of your screenplay and film.”

  Peter fell back onto the sofa, clutching his chest. “I’m having a heart attack!”

  “Relax, and drink your tea,” Stone said.

  “Oh, listen, I’d like to get my driver’s license,” Peter said.

  “Peter!” his mother interjected. “You’re only sixteen!”

  Peter smiled. “Not anymore,” he said.

  “Oh, God,” Arrington moaned, “we’ve created a monster!”

  13

  Arrington was stretched out on the bed in her slip. She took A a deep breath and let it out. “There’s something I have to tell you,” she said.

  Stone sat down on the bed. He didn’t like the sound of this. “All right.”

  “I’ve been seeing someone for the past year. Back in Virginia.”

  Stone allowed himself to think about all the women he’d been out with during that time. “All right,” he said.

  “You’re not jealous?” she said with mock concern.

  “Well, of course, but you’re a free woman. Are you having some sort of problem with him?”

  “He’s the architect for the new house,” she said, seeming to evade his question. “The relationship began to sour a few weeks ago, but I didn’t want to cut him off at the knees while he was still working on the house.”

  “That’s a reasonable decision to make,” Stone said. “I assume you will eventually get around to answering my question.”

  “What question was that?” she asked, innocently.

  “Is he giving you trouble?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of how?”

  “He’s becoming jealous of you.”

  “Why has he even heard of me?” Stone asked.

  “I’ve mentioned you a few times as being an old friend. He latched onto your name immediately, and began making little digs about you.”

  “I can handle little digs,” Stone said.

  “He turned up at the hospital in Charlottesville yesterday and intimated to the nurse at the desk that he was some sort of intimate of mine, and they let him into my room. An argument ensued, not our first.”

  “Was his behavior an escalation over what you’ve seen in the past?”

  “Yes. He very nearly became violent, but a doctor walked into the room at just the right moment.”

  “What do you think he would have done?”

  “I’m not sure, but recently I heard that he had beaten up a woman he’d been seeing last year, and that he was just off probation for that incident. Then, when he had gone a nurse came into my room when I was alone and warned me about him.”

  “Warned you how?”

  “She told me that he had been seeing her older sister earlier this year, while he was still on probation, and he had been violent with her, had broken her nose. The nurse called him and said if he saw her sister again, she’d report him and he’d be sent to prison for breaking his probation. He responded that, if she did that, he would kill both her sister and her.”

  “This is not good,” Stone said.

  “No, it’s not. I felt lucky to have gotten out of the state without further trouble from him.”

  “I think it might be best if I speak to him,” Stone said.

  “Oh, no, Stone! That might just roil the waters.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve ha
ndled this sort of thing before for clients, and you’re my client. He just needs to be reminded of what he has to lose. He’s a professor at UVA; he’s a respected architect, well known in the community. If he behaves badly, that could all go away. Requesting a protective order from the court could make that happen, once the locals heard about it.”

  “If you think that’s the way to go, then fine, but I’m just afraid that he’s become more irrational the past few months, and I don’t want you to push him over the edge.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be very lawyerly,” Stone said. “I won’t yell at him or make overt threats.”

  Arrington took his hand. “Then I’ll trust you to handle him,” she said.

  14

  Stone called Dino and invited him and Ben to join them for dinner, and by eight-thirty they were about to be seated at Elaine’s.

  Peter tugged at Stone’s sleeve. “Dad, may Ben and I have our own table?”

  Stone looked at Arrington and she nodded. Stone arranged it, two tables down, then the three adults took their seats.

  “I’m glad they’re getting along,” Dino said. “Ben doesn’t warm to a whole lot of people.”

  “I’m glad, too, Dino,” Arrington said.

  “Before I forget,” Dino said, “I’ve been asked to deliver an invitation. Eduardo Bianchi has invited the three of you to join his family for Christmas dinner. Strangely enough, I’m invited, too.” Eduardo was Dino’s former father-in-law.

  “Arrington?” Stone asked.

  “Yes, of course; we don’t have other plans, do we?”

  “The choices are dinner at a hotel or a Chinese restaurant.”

  “We’d love to, Dino,” Arrington said.

  “Eduardo is very interested to meet Peter,” Dino said. “He’s been hearing about him from Ben.”

  “I wonder if the boys will insist on their own table,” Stone said, glancing down to where they sat, talking rapidly and gesticulating.

  “Stone,” Dino said, “Ben seems to think that Peter is eighteen. Why is that?”

  “I’d better bring you up to date,” Stone said, then he told him about all the arrangements that had been made. “It’s better this way, we think.”

  “I think it’s better for Ben, too; I won’t tell him.”

  Stone looked up to see Herbie Fisher enter the restaurant in the company of a petite, dark-haired beauty. Herbie brought her to the table. “Good evening, Stone, Dino. I’d like you to meet Gina Carlo.”

  Stone and Dino stood and shook hands. “And, Herbie,” Stone said, “you haven’t met my friend Arrington. Arrington, this is my client Herbert Fisher.”

  “I’ve heard good things about you,” Herbie said. “Mostly from Joan, Stone’s secretary.”

  “I’m glad she has a good opinion of me,” Arrington replied, smiling.

  Herbie excused himself, and they were shown to a table at the rear of the restaurant. A moment later, two large men came in and were given a table in Siberia, where the tourists were sent. Then, after another moment, two other large men came in and took seats at their table. Some hard looks were exchanged, and one of the second pair spoke, uninterrupted, for about a minute. The first two men looked at each other, shrugged, and then left the restaurant.

  “What was that all about?” Dino asked.

  “Herbie,” Stone said, “for reasons too complicated to go into, is now in the care of Strategic Services. The young woman, Gina Carlo, is one of Mike Freeman’s operatives, as are the second pair of men who followed them in. The first two men have been causing Herbie some concern, and, after having been spoken to, they have obviously decided that discretion is the better part of valor.”

  “Okay,” Dino said.

  “Whatever you say,” Arrington said.

  They ordered drinks and looked at the menu.

  “Funny thing,” Dino said, “after a trip to Film Forum with Peter, Ben has suddenly acquired an interest in old movies. He can’t stop talking about them.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Stone said. “Peter is obsessed, and it’s good for him to have a friend who shares his excitement.”

  “That’s probably what they’re talking about now,” Arrington said.

  Dino glanced at the two boys. “I certainly hope so,” he said. “I wouldn’t want Ben to lead Peter astray.”

  “Astray how?” Arrington asked.

  Dino looked uncomfortable. “Ben has a tendency, when he comes home from school, to be interested in things beyond his years.”

  “Like what?” Stone asked.

  “Like downtown clubs,” Dino explained. “Once a cop brought him home, after some sort of ruckus in SoHo.”

  “Dino,” Arrington said, “you’re not raising some sort of juvenile delinquent, are you?”

  “First of all, I’m not raising him; he’s at that school in Connecticut, and his mother and grandfather have a lot more to say about his upbringing than I do. Second, he’s not a juvenile delinquent; he just wants to be twenty-five, at a time when most kids are looking forward to nineteen. For what it’s worth, I think Peter just might be a steadying hand.”

  “What’s Ben doing about college?” Arrington asked.

  “He’s got an early acceptance from Columbia,” Dino replied, “with the help of his grandfather, who is a major contributor. Of course, he’s always made good grades, with little apparent effort, so he’s not exactly being foisted on the school.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Arrington enthused. “An Ivy Leaguer in the family!”

  “How about that?” Dino said.

  Later, when they had all dined and were leaving, Stone noted that Herbie and Gina were deep in conversation at their table. He had a feeling they weren’t discussing personal security.

  The two bodyguards looked sleepy.

  They arrived home and good nights were said. Back in the master suite, Arrington got into bed next to Stone. “Have you noticed,” she said, “that Peter’s clothes have gotten a little too snug?”

  “Yes, I have,” Stone said. “I’ll deal with that tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” she sighed. “He hates it when I buy clothes for him.”

  The following morning Stone took Peter up to Madison and Seventy-second to the Ralph Lauren men’s store. He found the right department and bought Peter a blue blazer, a couple of tweed jackets, a blue suit, and some odd trousers, making sure there was room for growth in all of them. Peter picked out a handsome topcoat, some shirts and shoes. Everything would be delivered in a couple of days.

  Stone went home feeling very fatherly, a condition he was becoming accustomed to.

  15

  Mid-Monday morning, two FedEx packages arrived—one containing a dozen certified copies of Peter’s new California birth certificate, with a covering letter from the court stating that his former certificate had been sealed by court order. The second envelope contained Peter’s high school diploma, with the notation “With Honors,” a copy of the transcript of his academic record, and a “To Whom It May Concern” letter from the headmaster describing Peter as a true scholar and a perfect gentleman. All these materials were in the name of Malon Peter Barrington II. Only the Virginia name-change order remained to be received.

  Stone buzzed Peter in his room and asked him to come down to his office for a chat. They sat on the leather sofa, and Stone gave Peter the documents he had received. “This is all official, now,” he said. “Joan has made copies of your transcript, of which this is one, and she has put the other eleven certified copies of your birth certificate in my office safe, where they will be secure. You’ll need them at various times.”

  “Thank you, Dad,” Peter said, tucking the documents back into the envelope.

  “When you see Letitia Covington this afternoon, you might take those documents along, just in case they’re needed, and don’t forget a copy of your screenplay and the DVD of your edited footage.”

  “I won’t.”

  “By the way, I had a call from Leo Goldman, who wa
s very impressed with the work you’ve done on your fi lm—so impressed that he immediately wanted to buy it for Centurion.”

  “You mean it’s going to be released?”

  “Not yet, and probably not for some time.”

  “What’s the delay?”

  “I swore Leo to secrecy about you and the screenplay. If he released it, say, at Sundance, as the work of a sixteen-year-old, a sensation would ensue, and a number of things would happen: first, you would become famous way before your time, which could wreck your desire for some anonymity and a good education. Fame can be a good thing, but not in this case. You would forever be known as a boy wonder, and it would be very difficult for you to outgrow that.”

  “Like Orson Welles?”

  “Something like that. Of course, Welles was twenty-four when he made Citizen Kane, but that was still very young, and in spite of his brilliance he was ill-equipped to deal with the studios and the smart, ruthless men who ran them, and his career suffered for the rest of his life.”

  “I read a good biography of Welles,” Peter said, “and he’s one of my heroes, along with Elia Kazan, but you’re right about how the studios treated him.”

  “Welles was a genius,” Stone said, “but Kazan is a better career role model. He started as an actor, then was an extraordinarily successful director in theater before he tackled film, and by the time he did he was a mature artist.”

  “I see your point. I’ll finish the film, then put it aside until you think the time is right, Dad.”

  “I don’t want you to think I’m going to make all your decisions for you,” Stone said, “but I want you to learn to think about them hard before you go off half-cocked.”

  “I understand.”

  “There’s something else. Your mother and I are delighted that you and Ben have become friends so quickly, but you have to remember that Ben, in spite of your newfound age, has two important years on you, and that’s a lot of experience you haven’t had yet. Ben is an impulsive young man, and sometimes his impulses have gotten him into trouble. You’re going to be put in the odd position of sometimes being the grown-up in the friendship, instead of just going along with what he wants. And, I’ve no doubt there’ll be times when you should just walk away from him, if you disagree with his actions. Being his friend doesn’t mean you have to be his abettor.... I’m sorry, do you know that word?”