A Delicate Touch

by Stuart Woods

  “I think I can talk him into it. Can I take him a file?”

  “No. You can bring him here to see all of them, if that will help. But he has to arrive separately from you, and under similar circumstances.”

  She nodded.

  “I’d like you to do something for me back at your office. While not disclosing why, I’d like you to research a name and give me everything you can find about him.”

  “What name?”

  “Rance Damien.” Stone spelled it for her.

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Neither had I until yesterday. Neither the NYPD nor Google has anything on him.”

  “Then he must be a complete nobody.”

  “Being a complete nobody these days is hard work,” Stone said, “if you’ve done anything of significance—legally or illegally.”

  “Do you know anything else about him?”

  “Jack Thomas, in our meeting yesterday, told us Damien is a consultant for H. Thomas & Son, and his specialty is security.”

  “Sounds like a thug.”

  “I don’t think the Thomases would employ anyone who looks or sounds like a thug. Had we bitten on their offer to represent their new business, this Damien would have been in charge.”

  “You would have reported to him?”

  “That was what they wanted. While you’re at it, you might see if you can find out if Jack was serious about starting this loan company surreptitiously.”

  “I can get somebody on the business desk to look into it.”

  “Under our secrecy rules, fine, but tell him not to leave any fingerprints. If the Thomases find out the Times is interested, they’ll know the tip came from me or my law partner.”

  “Do they have a corporate name yet?”

  “Jack didn’t mention one. I gather it’s a new idea, because he wanted me to set it up as an offshore business.”

  “That does indicate a start-up, doesn’t it?” She sipped her cognac and looked thoughtful. “When I get my team together I don’t think we should work in the Times building. Maybe I can get my editor to rent a hotel suite.”

  “I own the house next door, where you entered. My household staff live there, but they never seem to use the living or dining rooms. They’re large and well-furnished.”

  “We can bring our own computers,” Jamie said. “I can speak to our IT people about setting up.”

  “I’d rather you use my guy,” Stone said. “He does both hardware and software, and he can set up a secure system for files and communications. His name is Bob Cantor. He’s ex-NYPD and a genius at what he does, which is almost everything.”

  “We’re going to need secure storage,” she said.

  “You can use the Excelsior safe. I don’t know anything more secure.”

  “We’ll need the combination.”

  “Only you, and only after practice. If you screw up too often, it will lock you out. There are only two people who can crack it, in that case: Bob Cantor is one, the other is 104 years old, and you’d have to spring him from an old folks’ home and buy him an excellent dinner.”

  “We’ve got a genealogist at the Times who’s wasted on obituaries. I’d like to bring her in to put together family trees of all of the file subjects. I’d like to know who and where the descendants are and what they’re calling themselves these days.”

  “Good idea. I suggest you buy some more throwaway cell phones for your coworkers.”

  “I’ll do that,” she said. “My editor is going to want to meet my source. When can we do that?”

  “Tomorrow is fine, but you know as much as I do now. Just think of me as a friend who will offer advice as needed, not a source.”

  “That’s good,” she said, “because I have an iron-clad rule against fucking my sources.”

  “Well,” Stone said, “as a friend who offers advice, I think that’s a very good idea.”

  “Is there a bed in this house, or do we have to do it on the floor?” she asked, standing up and shedding her sweater.

  Stone stood up, too. “I don’t think I want to wait long enough to find a bed.” He began undressing. “There’s a perfectly nice rug in front of the fireplace.”

  She unhooked her bra and tossed it on a chair, then started working on Stone’s buttons. Shortly, they were naked and stood, kissing and caressing each other. They laid down on the rug, and she grabbed a cushion from a chair and put it under her hips. “There,” she said. “Come to me.”

  * * *

  • • •

  THEY DID IT ONCE, then again, then lay before the dying fire, her head on his shoulder and her leg over his. “That,” she said, “was the best sex I’ve ever had from a former source.”

  26

  The following morning Stone called Bob Cantor early. “I need an immediate sweep of both my house and the house next door,” he said.

  “What kind of sweep?”

  “Audio, video, and phones, and we may need to upgrade the alarm system next door.”

  “Sounds like you’re . . .”

  “Don’t ask,” Stone said. “When can you get here?”

  “As soon as I finish my coffee,” Cantor said.

  “Drink fast.”

  The throwaway cell phone on Stone’s desk buzzed. “Yes?”

  “It’s Jamie. What a nice evening!”

  “Thank you, I thought so, too!”

  “I got my editor out of his office and into a corner, and I described what we’ve got.”

  “What was his reaction?”

  “Hot to trot,” she said. “Can I bring him over this morning?”

  “Yes, but not through the front door. Bring him to the Second Avenue gate, open it, give him the key, then enter as you did yesterday. Tell him to follow you in two minutes.”

  “He’ll love the cloak-and-dagger part.”

  “He’s new, isn’t he? What’s his name?”

  “He is, and he wants a big story to hang his hat on. His name is Scott Berger. Around ten o’clock?”

  “Fine. He can stay for lunch, if he likes.”

  “Let’s see how it goes. See you at ten.” She hung up.

  * * *

  • • •

  BOB CANTOR ARRIVED soon and went to work. A half hour later he came back. “The alarm system next door couldn’t slow down a drunken teenage burglar. What sort of system do you want over there?”

  “One just as good as over here,” Stone said, “and as soon as possible. When can you start pulling wire?”

  “We don’t pull wire anymore. It’s all Internet and electronics. Let me get the phone checks done, then I’ll start. Do you want the Wi-Fi system over there?”

  “Yes, and we’ll be setting up some mailboxes.”

  “I’ll get started, then.” As he was leaving, Jamie Cox came in from next door, and Stone introduced them.

  “Oh, good,” she said. “I’ll want to talk to you later about our computer needs, Bob.”

  “Anything you want,” Bob said, and went next door.

  “Scott will be in shortly,” she said.

  At that moment Helene brought in a man who was younger, shorter, and more rumpled than Stone had expected. He wore a beat-up tweed jacket and had a bad haircut, along with stubble. He shook Stone’s hand. “Good to meet you,” he said, “tell me all about this.”

  “Jamie will do that,” Stone said. “I’ll open the safe for you.” He led them into the storeroom.

  “Jesus,” Scott said, “where’d you get that thing?”

  “Eduardo Bianchi had it custom-made in Berlin before World War II.” Stone opened the safe and left them to it.

  Dino called. “How’d it go yesterday?”

  “For an answer to that question, call me on the other phone,” Stone replied, then hung up.

  The thro
waway rang immediately. “Hi, there. It went exceedingly well. The executive editor of the New York Times is in the storeroom now, and Jamie is taking him through the files.”

  “You think he’s going to go for it?”

  “Jamie says he will. He’s new and wants something big.”

  “Dinner tonight? Viv is back, and she’ll want to hear about this.”

  “Sure. I want to talk to her about some security, too.”

  “Patroon at seven?”

  “Good.” They hung up.

  * * *

  • • •

  IT WAS NEARLY NOON before Jamie and Scott returned to Stone’s office.

  “You hungry?” he asked them.

  They both nodded.

  He called Helene and ordered some lunch. “Have a seat,” he said to the two journalists. They sat down, and he waited.

  “As far as I’m concerned, the Times is in,” Scott said, “but I’ve got to get money and resources from the publisher. I’ve got an appointment with him at two o’clock, and Jamie will come with me. I want to take one of the files with me.”

  Stone shook his head. “If you want this story you’re going to have to put security first: no document leaves this house; no document will be copied, except by my secretary; no phone calls or e-mails will be executed, except on secure phones and computers. If your publisher wants to see the files, bring him over here, the same way you arrived.”

  “Okay, let me call him,” Scott said, reaching for his cell phone.

  “Hold it,” Stone said. He tossed him the throwaway. “Security starts now. Tell him that. You can call from the storeroom.”

  “Be right back,” Scott said.

  “He’s thrilled,” Jamie said when he had gone.

  “I hope your publisher is thrilled, too.”

  Scott came back. “He really doesn’t want to leave the office,” he said, “but I think he’ll want the story when he sees what we’ve got.”

  “Tell him if he wants it to get his ass in gear and get over here, or I’ll take it elsewhere.”

  Scott sighed and went back to the storeroom.

  “Okay, one of us will meet him at the gate.”

  “Return one at a time,” Stone said. “Clear?”

  “Clear,” Scott replied.

  Helene arrived with sandwiches, salad, and iced tea.

  “What do we need to do about security?” Scott asked.

  “I’ve got a man next door installing a new security system as we speak. He’ll sweep both houses for recording devices, cameras, and bugs. I’ll want to hire some personnel from Strategic Services.”

  “I’ve worked with them before. Fine with me.”

  “We’re going to have to find other ways to get people in and out of here,” Stone said. “I don’t want a daily parade through the gardens.”

  “Whatever you want. You sure you don’t want me to set up secure facilities at the Times?”

  “No, that would just cause talk in your offices, and we don’t want that.”

  They talked through lunch, then shortly before two, Jamie said, “I’d better go get our man.”

  “Send him in first, and alone. And I don’t want a limo parked at the back gate.”

  “Gotcha.” She left the room.

  “What do you want out of this?” Scott asked.

  “The estate will take a cut of film, TV, and book rights, and it will pay me my usual fees,” Stone said.

  “That sounds all right with me, but you’re going to have to discuss it with the business side.”

  “The business side just arrived,” a deep voice said. “I’m Jeremy Green.”

  Stone rose to greet him and offered him a seat. “Lunch?”

  “Already ate,” he said. “What the hell is going on that’s so important?”

  Stone gave him an abbreviated rundown, then asked Jamie to take him into the storeroom and show him the files.

  “He’s married to a member of the owning family,” Scott said when they had gone. “But he’s all right: smart as a whip, and a good guy on top of it.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Stone said.

  “I’ve told him some of your demands, and I think he’ll buy that when he’s seen the files.”

  * * *

  • • •

  GREEN AND JAMIE were back in a half hour. “All right,” Green said, “the Times is in. Tell me what you want from us.”

  Stone got a legal pad and made notes as they talked.

  “Agreed,” Green said. “Now what’s this about the estate?”

  “The estate gets twenty percent of any income from TV, books, and reprints in other publications. All I want is whatever my costs turn out to be. The estate will pay me for my services.”

  “Agreed,” Green replied.

  “Also, I think we’re going to need a legal department that works only on this story. I suggest my firm, Woodman & Weld. We’re going to have to set up a defense for any problem that arises. For instance, if the Thomases get wind of this they’ll sue to try to stop publication. We have to be ready to counter that or anything else that comes up.”

  “Agreed,” Green said.

  “Jamie and Scott can tell you what else they need from the paper.”

  Jamie handed both Scott and Green a single sheet of paper. “Here’s who and what we need,” she said. “Anybody who works on this in any way, does it here, not at the paper. Stone has brought me to appreciate the need for absolute secrecy. Everybody will sign nondisclosure agreements.”

  Green addressed Stone. “Do you think the Thomases could be dangerous, if they find out what we’re doing?”

  “I think it’s a distinct possibility,” Stone said. “We have to devote all our energies to ensuring that they don’t get wind of what’s happening.”

  Green turned back to his people. “All right, I can manage to fund your list and Stone’s. Try not to come back with other, more expensive requests.”

  They talked until five o’clock, trying to anticipate problems, then the guests left, one at a time, the way they had come.

  Stone felt exhilarated. Now he wasn’t alone in this.

  Jamie stuck her head back through the door. “Why don’t we work late?” she asked.

  “I’ll be back by eleven,” Stone said.

  27

  Stone met Dino and Viv at Patroon for dinner.

  “You look excited,” Viv said.

  “I am excited,” he replied. “Now that we’ve got the paper involved. I met the editor and the publisher today, and once they saw the files they couldn’t have been more enthusiastic. They’ve agreed to let Strategic Services supply security.”

  “When do we start?”

  “Have your people come and survey the premises tomorrow morning,” Stone said.

  “I’ll do it myself,” Viv replied.

  “You think you’re going to be able to stay out of the sack with Jamie Cox?” Dino asked.

  “Dino,” Stone said. “Shut up.” He turned to Viv. “I hear you’ve been doing some shopping.”

  “Just a bit,” she said. “The upstairs is coming along nicely, though. I’ve had them working in two shifts.”

  “You’ll have to have a housewarming,” Stone said.

  “I’m already working on the guest list.”

  * * *

  • • •

  LATER, STONE WAS in his study when Jamie walked in.

  “Drink?”

  “Let’s take it upstairs,” she said. “I still have rug burns.”

  They did so, and got into bed. “Except for the Pulitzer, this has been the best day of my career,” Jamie said, setting down her drink and kissing him.

  Stone set down his drink, too, and paid attention.

  “Do you think we can keep this from your st
aff people?” she said.

  “I don’t see why not, as long as they’re gone for the day.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Viv Bacchetti, Dino’s wife and the COO of Strategic Services, is coming over in the morning to survey our needs, so you’ll need to be gone by eight AM.”

  “I’m always at work by eight,” she said. “That gives us nine hours.”

  They had only used up one by the time they fell asleep.

  * * *

  • • •

  VIV ARRIVED AT TEN. She accepted a cup of coffee and took it on their walk-around. Bob Cantor was at work next door and greeted her warmly.

  “Stone,” Bob said. “I’ve got something to show you.” He led them down to the garage to where a sheet of drywall had been pulled loose, revealing a door. “I had to pick the lock,” he said, opening it to reveal a tunnel and shining a flashlight down it. “This leads all the way to Third Avenue, under the houses. I saw how your people were coming and going—this will be less noticeable. I can change the locks and give everybody a key. All it needs is a good sweeping and some fresh lightbulbs.”

  “That’s great, Bob,” Stone said. “I was beginning to worry about attracting too much attention from the other residents who use the garden.” He left Viv and Bob to discuss security, then went back to his office. Joan was waiting for him.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on around here?”

  “We’re going to have some guests working next door for some time,” he said, then he brought her up to date. “We need to get Helene some kitchen help to make lunch every day and keep a pot of coffee going in the dining room next door. Tell everybody that they’ll be working there and in the living room. Nobody uses those rooms anyway, since they have self-contained apartments.”

  “Sure thing,” Joan said. “I know just the lady to help Helene.”

  “Somehow I thought you would,” he said. “She has to be able to keep her mouth shut.”

  “Goes without saying,” Joan replied.

  He went back to his office to find Jamie waiting for him, all changed and fresh.