by Stuart Woods
“I had an interesting phone call this morning.”
“Anybody I know?”
“Someone who knows you, at the very least.”
“Who might that be?”
“Jack Thomas, of H. Thomas & Son.”
“What the hell did he want?”
“He said he’s thinking of expanding his firm’s legal footprint, and guess what? Your name came up.”
“In vain?”
“Not in the least. He said he’d heard good things,” Eggers said.
“From whom?”
“He didn’t say.”
“What did you tell him, Bill?”
“I made an appointment with him for this afternoon at three, in my office.”
“I thought people like the Thomases got a nosebleed if they travel north of Wall Street.”
“He said he had to be in the neighborhood anyway, so he’d drop by.”
“Well, let me know what he has to say.”
“Oh, he specifically asked that you join our meeting. I got the impression he wants to get a sniff at your backside.”
Stone laughed. “To tell you the truth, I think he’d rather I got a knife between my shoulder blades.”
“I didn’t know you knew Jack. Do you two have a history?”
“Yes, but a very brief one. I think I’d better turn up half an hour early and brief you on that. It might have a bearing on whether you want to represent his firm.”
“You mean there’s some doubt as to whether we should take his business?”
“You can tell me that after we talk.”
“Talk now.”
“Not on the phone.”
“All right. Then, join me for lunch at the Grill,” Eggers said. The Grill had formerly been the Grill Room at the Four Seasons, before their lease had ended and the landlord had given them the boot. “Is one o’clock all right?”
“Since you’re buying, you get to choose,” Stone said. “See you at one.”
* * *
• • •
THE ROOM HADN’T changed much since the new restaurant opened in the Seagram Building, which was where Woodman & Weld had its offices, but the New York Preservation Society was responsible for that. Eggers was already seated at what had always been his table, on the upper level, where he could gaze down on lesser mortals. He waved Stone over. “Martini?”
“I gave them up for bourbon years ago,” Stone replied.
“Knob Creek, then?”
“Since we’re meeting a Thomas, I think I’d better keep my wits about me.”
They read the menu and both ordered the Dover sole, which had recently slept in the English Channel.
“All right,” Eggers said, “let’s hear it. And it had better be good. They’re offering us a half-million-dollar annual retainer, and that could translate into multimillion-dollar business.”
“Bill,” Stone said, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Henry Thomas and his son, Jack, and his grandson, Hank, are not who they seem to be.”
“Horseshit,” Eggers said mildly. “Henry has been a Wall Street fixture since before you and I were born.”
“And a fixture elsewhere before that,” Stone replied.
“‘Elsewhere’? What are you talking about?”
“I’d better begin at the beginning,” Stone said, then told him about the Excelsior safe and the files.
“‘Tommassini’? That was the family name?”
“Yes.”
“Lots of immigrant families anglicize their names,” Eggers pointed out.
“You need to know the Tommassini history,” Stone said, then laid it all out for him.
“That’s the most fantastic thing I’ve ever heard,” Eggers said. “And if you go around telling people that, you’d better be ready for a monumental defamation suit.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen. The Thomases think I’m the only man alive who has that information.”
“What did you do with the files?” Eggers asked. “I’d like to see them for myself.”
“I turned them over to the D.A., like a good citizen,” Stone said.
“Then why do the Thomases think you have them?”
Stone told him about Mary Ann Bacchetti’s conversation with Heather Thomas, and Heather’s conversation with her ex-husband, Jack.
“Swell,” Eggers said. “I never knew Mary Ann was such a blabbermouth.”
“She wasn’t when her father was still alive, but now . . .”
“Has she gone completely nuts?”
“I’ve been dealing with her on Eduardo’s estate for a year and a half, now, and she always seemed perfectly sane, even sensible, to me. Dino, however, blew his stack when I told him I’d told her about the files. He predicted her subsequent behavior and Heather’s, too.”
“So what is this meeting with Jack Thomas about?”
“I think he’s going to offer you some business in order to get leverage over me, to keep my mouth shut.”
“If the Thomases are really the Tommassinis, why haven’t they blown your head off?”
“I think they’ve given serious consideration to doing just that,” Stone replied. “I’ve been running from them for the past few days, and every day I was gone there was a suspicious car parked near my house.”
“What have you pulled me into, Stone?”
“Jack didn’t call me, he called you.”
“So, he thinks that by buying off Woodman & Weld, he can pressure me into keeping my foot on your neck?”
“I hope not literally, but that’s about the size of it,” Stone replied. “And once they’ve wormed their way into Woodman & Weld, there’ll be no stopping them.”
Eggers mopped his brow. “Holy shit,” he said. “I’ve never dealt with people like this. We’ve always avoided them.”
“Want some advice?”
“Sure.”
“Go on avoiding them,” Stone said.
21
Jack Thomas sat and surveyed Bill Eggers’s office—the mahogany paneling, the cheerful fireplace, the sweeping views of Manhattan from the top of one of the city’s most beautiful skyscrapers. Clearly, he was impressed.
“Coffee? Tea?” Eggers asked Jack from an opposite leather chair before the fire.
“Neither,” Thomas said. There was a cut in his voice that disappeared when he said, “Handsome offices.”
“Thank you,” Eggers said. “I’ll tell my former wife you said so.” Eggers had two or three former wives, and their care and feeding had cut deeply into his assets for a while. “How can we help you, Mr. Thomas?”
“It’s Jack, please.”
“And we’re Bill and Stone.”
“So be it. To cut to the chase, we’re beginning to build a new division of H. Thomas, though it won’t be identified with the house.”
Eggers avoided a frown. “What sort of division?” he asked.
“High-earning lending,” Thomas replied.
“How ‘high-earning’?”
“Loans with interest rates of twenty percent or more.”
“More than twenty percent?” Stone asked. “That kind of lending has a name.”
“And what name is that?” Thomas asked sharply, as if daring him to identify it.
Stone identified it. “Loan sharking,” he replied.
“These days it’s more respectable,” Thomas said. “Pink-slip or payday lending.”
“But not much more respectable,” Stone said.
“It will be in the way we do it.”
“And how will you do it?” Eggers asked.
“Our offices won’t be in strip malls, and they’ll look more like banks than loan companies. We’ll even offer some banking services: savings accounts, auto and remodeling loans.”
; “Low risk?” Eggers asked.
“You might call them that.”
“How many people will this new division employ?” Stone asked.
“About four thousand in the first year of operation,” Thomas replied.
“How many of those will work at collection?” Stone asked.
“To be determined by necessity,” Thomas replied.
“What will your hiring standards be for collection officers?” Stone asked.
“Women will staff the telephones for the first three calls. Men will knock on doors when personal contact becomes necessary.”
“What sort of height and weight parameters will you specify for those personal collectors?” Stone asked.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Thomas replied.
“I mean, will they be of the gorilla class of collectors?”
“Let us merely say they will be persuasive,” Thomas replied.
“In our telephone conversation,” Eggers said, “you professed a particular interest in Stone’s participation. In what capacity do you see him?”
“We had thought as president,” Thomas replied.
“And who would be your chairman?”
“A young man of great promise, called Rance Damien.”
Eggers made a note on the legal pad in his lap. “How is Mr. Damien currently employed?”
“He is a consultant for our firm.”
“What is his area of consultancy?”
“Security.”
“And Stone,” Eggers asked, “would he actually work in an executive capacity, or would he just be the public face of the company?”
“Up to him,” Thomas replied. “As for fees, we anticipate a half-million-dollar annual retainer, against your usual fees.”
“Yes, you mentioned that on the phone,” Eggers said. “Do you anticipate an initial public offering at some point in the future?”
“No, the company will be privately held by multiple investors,” Thomas replied. “There would be an opportunity for your firm to participate, and Stone could, as well, on a favorable basis.”
“So there would be no visible connection between the company and H. Thomas, if, say, an investigative reporter took an interest?”
“None whatever. I’m sure Stone could suggest a corporate ownership structure that would keep investors’ names out of the media. Perhaps the company could be based in the islands?”
Stone managed a small smile.
“What sort of compensation do you anticipate for Stone’s participation as president?” Eggers asked.
“A salary of two million dollars a year, with the usual CEO perquisites,” Thomas said. “As a start.”
“And how much of Stone’s time would be required in management?”
“He would certainly have an office at headquarters, but I expect that most of his advice could be given to Rance Damien on the phone or in personal out-of-office meetings.”
“Would Stone’s name appear on letterheads and other corporate documents?”
“Of course. We can’t have a secret president, can we?”
“So,” Stone said. “Rance Damien would be the actual CEO, with me as a figurehead?”
“Precisely,” Thomas replied. “We reckon that your personal reputation would lend authenticity to our operations.”
“And what executive would be in charge of collections?” Stone asked.
“Rance will appoint a head of collections and security.”
“So, your collections officers would also be security officers, which would allow them to carry arms?”
Thomas regarded his manicure. “That’s a very good suggestion, Stone,” he said. “I wish I’d thought of it.”
“I’m sure.”
“After all, collections can sometimes have an element of risk.”
“Yes,” Stone said, “but mostly for the debtors, I imagine.”
“Those who pay on time will have no worries,” Thomas replied.
“Well,” Eggers said. “Thank you for coming in, Mr. Thomas. Is there anything else you wish to talk about?”
“Not today,” Thomas said, rising.
“Then I will discuss this with my board of partners and give you an early answer.”
The three men stood, shook hands perfunctorily, and Eggers escorted Jack Thomas to the door. Then he came back, sat at his desk, and rang for his secretary. “Come in, please, and bring your steno pad.”
The woman appeared almost instantly and sat down across his desk.
“Take a letter, please: to Mr. Jack Thomas, CEO, H. Thomas & Son, fill in the address,” Eggers said.
Dear Mr. Thomas,
Thank you for taking the time to visit our offices today, for your request for legal representation by Woodman & Weld for your new “lending” company, and, specifically, for the managerial participation of our partner, Stone Barrington.
Upon due consideration of our board of partners, we must decline to represent, in any manner, such a slimy business enterprise as you described to Mr. Barrington and me in our meeting. Furthermore, Mr. Barrington has informed our board that, as he so gracefully put it, “I wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole.”
If you have any further requests of this firm, very kindly go fuck yourself.
Yours most sincerely,
William Eggers
Managing Partner
Eggers turned toward Stone. “Can you think of anything else I should tell him?”
“I think you’ve touched all the bases, Bill,” Stone replied.
“Then type that up on the firm letterhead for my signature,” he said to his secretary. “And send it to him by registered mail, for his signature only.”
22
Stone and Dino met at P. J. Clarke’s and went straight in to dinner. After their drinks had arrived, Stone said, “Well, the Thomases have made their next move.”
Dino’s eyebrows shot up. “Did they take a swing at you?”
“Yes, but it was more like shadowboxing. Still, it was all aimed at my head.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Jack Thomas came up to Bill Eggers’s office and outlined a new payday loan operation they’re planning to start, one that will be made to look unconnected to H. Thomas & Son. I was at the meeting.”
“You mean those pink-slip loans at huge interest rates?”
“Exactly.”
“Why the hell would he go to Bill Eggers?”
“Ostensibly, for legal representation, but he wanted me to be president of the company.”
“Ah,” Dino said. “I begin to see the light. He wants to buy your ass and shut you up.”
“I couldn’t have put it more gracefully,” Stone said.
“What did Eggers tell him?”
“He told him he’d bring up the matter with the board of partners and then give him an answer.” Stone handed Dino a copy of Eggers’s letter. “Then, without leaving his office for consultations, he dictated this letter to Jack Thomas.”
Dino read the letter and let out a hoot. “This is wonderful! I’ll bet you that no lawyer has ever written a letter like that to a prospective client!”
“Probably not,” Stone replied.
“Did he mention actual money?”
“Half a million annual retainer for the firm. Two million a year salary for me, but I’d report to somebody named Rance Damien.”
“Who dat?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“You want me to run the name.”
“You’re a regular clairvoyant,” Stone said.
Dino got out his cell phone and tapped out an e-mail. “There you go.”
“How long will it take?”
“A few minutes.”
“Let’s see what Google has to say about him.” Ston
e went to his iPhone and typed in the name. “Nada,” he said. “Absolutely nothing. How does somebody avoid Google?”
“By never getting his name in the papers, running a company, or getting written about,” Dino replied. His phone made a noise. “And look at this,” he said, “the guy’s clean. We have absolutely nothing on him.”
“I looked through Eduardo’s files this afternoon, after our meeting. The only similar name I came up with was D’Amato. He had a son called Renato, who would be an old man by now.”
“Well, the initials match, just like those of the Thomases.”
“Dino, how do you keep tabs on somebody nobody’s ever heard of?”
“With great difficulty, unless we can somehow lay eyeballs on him, then track him to his roost. You have any idea what he does for a living?”
“Jack Thomas says he’s a security consultant to H. Thomas.”
“Well, he probably wouldn’t rate a mention in their annual report. Why don’t you ask Mike Freeman at Strategic Services if he knows of anybody in the business by that name?”
“Good idea. I’ll call him tomorrow.”
“I’ll ask Viv, too, when she calls in.”
“Where is she?”
“Hong Kong. The good news is, when she gets back, she’ll be too jet-lagged to spend any more money.”
“How’s that going?”
“Well, there’s a great big hole in our living room ceiling, meant to accommodate a spiral staircase,” he replied. “Someday.”
“It’s like that, is it?”
“You know something about the renovating arts, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Well, it seems to be moving very quickly. The architect has drawn plans redividing the penthouse space so that we’ll each have a bathroom and a dressing room.”
“That may be the secret to a happy marriage,” Stone said.
“We’ll see. Right now we’ve got a thick layer of builder’s dust in our whole apartment. We’ve had to bring in a commercial cleaning company to keep up with it.”
“I hope you sealed off the master suite.”
“In a matter of speaking. Every time we open a door, a cloud of dust blows in.”
“Why don’t you just move into a hotel until the work is done—downstairs, at least.”
