by Stuart Woods
“But never with television cameras present,” Eduardo pointed out.
“Daddy won’t even allow his photograph in the annual reports of the companies and charitable institutions on whose boards he sits,” she said.
“I admit it, my dear, I am shy,” Eduardo replied. “Now let’s turn the conversation back to you.” He dusted imaginary crumbs from his suit, a rare gesture of irritation.
Dolce looked over her shoulder, and Stone followed her gaze. A large man in a dark suit stood on the back terrace. He looked at his watch. “Oh,” she said, “I’m afraid Alfonzo is becoming impatient. We’re going shopping.”
Stone was startled to think of Dolce roaming Madison Avenue, a free woman, but perhaps Alfonzo could manage her.
“Dolce needs new clothes,” Eduardo explained, “now that she is going out more often.”
Dolce stood. “Perhaps Stone would like to tag along with me sometime.”
Stone stood, too. “I’m afraid I’m rather occupied with someone who wouldn’t understand.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him good-bye. This time her tongue momentarily found Stone’s ear.
“Good-bye, dear Stone.”
“Good-bye, Dolce,” Stone managed to say. He watched her walk away, an inviting performance.
“Sit for a moment more,” Eduardo said, “until she has made her escape.”
Stone sat down, hoping Eduardo did not mean that literally. “She really is looking very well,” he said.
“I think her mental state, particularly her anger, made her seem older,” Eduardo said. “Now that she has been relieved of those tensions, it shows in her demeanor.”
“I suppose so,” Stone said. “How long has she been going out?”
“Only for the past ten days or so,” Eduardo replied. “I am being very careful with her, following the advice of her psychiatrist, who is a sensible woman.”
“I wish I could have helped her,” Stone said.
“No one could have helped her in those days, Stone,” Eduardo said. “And I would not wish you to feel that you must try again.”
“Thank you, Eduardo,” Stone said. “I must go now, but it has been a very great pleasure to see you, and I’m glad that Dolce is making such a good recovery.” He stood and took Eduardo’s hand again.
“I think seeing you was good for her,” Eduardo said, “and I’m glad we had an opportunity to talk about Sharpe and Larsen.”
“So am I. I will take your advice to heart.” Stone walked back to the terrace and through the house. The butler was there to open the front door for him. He got into his car and began the drive back to Manhattan.
He had calls to make now, after Eduardo’s warning about Sharpe. Previously, he had been concerned only about Hildy Parsons with regard to her fortune. Now, it seemed, she was in more immediate danger. So, indeed, was Mitzi Reynolds, above and beyond the call of her duty. Sharpe needed to be shut down quickly and Larsen with him, and not by just a loss of reputation.
Beyond those thoughts, a knot had been forming in Stone’s stomach, and he searched for the reason. Then he remembered: Dolce, when told he was seeing someone, had said, “I know.”
Stone’s heart thudded in his chest, and his hands made the steering wheel slippery.
31
STONE PUT THE CAR in the garage and went quickly to his office. Several message slips were on his desk, among them one from Brian Doyle at the downtown precinct. He called the number.
“Lieutenant Doyle.”
“Brian, it’s Stone Barrington.”
“Hello, Stone.”
“I’m returning your call.”
“I had a meeting with Mitzi earlier this afternoon, and she told me how well things are going. She said you have been a big help. ‘Invaluable,’ was how she put it.”
“I’m glad to have helped.”
“We’re getting to the point where we can set up a purchase and a bust,” Brian said.
“Brian…”
“We don’t think it will have to be too big to get a conviction: A pound of grass and half a kilo of coke should do it-plenty to charge him with distributing.”
“Brian, listen to me.”
“Okay, pal, I’m listening. What’s up?”
“I have some new information that you’re going to have to take into consideration before you decide whether to continue.”
“What sort of information?”
“I have it from a very reliable source that Sharpe has stepped on the toes of some pros who take a very proprietary view of their business operations.”
“And which pros are these?”
“I don’t know, but they are pissed off at having what they consider to be an amateur dipping into their exclusive territories, and they are planning to do something about it.”
“And where does this information come from?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s completely confidential.”
“That’s not good enough, pal.”
“Then I’m going to have to invoke attorney-client privilege.”
“Stone, if you want me to believe you, you’re going to have to give me something more than your word.”
“Listen, you started this operation on nothing more than my word.”
“That’s not quite so,” Brian said. “There had been rumblings from other quarters.”
“What quarters are those, Brian?”
“Sorry, that’s confidential-official police business.”
“I’m sorry, Brian, but that’s not good enough,” Stone said.
“That’s how it works, Stone: You have to tell me; I don’t have to tell you.”
“I’m telling you that very soon somebody is going to remove Derek Sharpe from your precinct in a decisive way, and when that occurs anybody who happens to be standing near him is going to be removed, too. That includes Mitzi and, not least of all, Hildy Parsons, on whose behalf I initiated this whole thing.”
“I’ll worry about Mitzi,” Brian said, “but you’re going to have to deal with your little rich bitch who got into the sack with the wrong boyfriend.”
“I have a responsibility to Mitzi, too,” Stone said, “and I’m telling you she is not well enough protected with just Tom watching her back. He’s usually waiting in the car while she’s dealing with Sharpe and, incidentally, with somebody called Sig Larsen, a financial advisor who’s running a Ponzi scheme.”
“Well, Mitzi is going to be wearing a wire from now on, so we’ll know who she’s talking to and every word they say.”
“And you think a wire is going to make her safer? It’s more likely to get her killed.”
“Stone, a wire these days doesn’t mean what it meant back in the olden days, when you were on the force. They’re very clever little devices now.”
“Brian, if you send Mitzi in there you’re going to have to find a way to get her some on-site help. You need somebody at the scene in case things turn bad.”
“Well, as it happens, I’ve got just the guy to go in there with her. He’s known to all the participants, and he’ll fit right in.”
“Good. Who is that?”
“His name is Stone Barrington,” Brian said.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Stone said. “I’m retired, remember?”
“Oh, I think I can get you put on temporary, active status until we’re done with this.”
“I don’t want that, Brian, and in any case, you need a lot more than me. You need guys in black suits and body armor parked in a vegetable truck around the corner, ready to storm the place.
“Speaking of body armor, Mitzi is being fitted out in the latest fashion as we speak. I’m told it will make her even more inviting, that it’ll add a couple of inches to her tits.”
“Brian, you’re not getting this: The biggest threat to Mitzi is not from Sharpe or Larsen, it’s from the people who want Sharpe permanently out of business. Mitzi wearing a wire and armor is not going to protect her from a hail of shotgun or automatic
weapons fire.”
“We do the best we can, Stone,” Brian said. “Now, I’ve already put in an application to the commissioner for your reactivation to the force, and I’m ordering you not to decline any invitations from Sharpe or Mitzi to join them on some occasion.”
“Ordering me? Where do you come off doing that?”
“Detective Second Grade Barrington, you will comply with the lawful orders of your superiors, including me, Lieutenant Brian Doyle, do you understand me?”
“I’m calling the commissioner myself,” Stone said.
“Since when does the commissioner take your phone calls?” Brian asked. “I heard never.”
“Then why do you think he would approve active status for me?”
“After speaking with him myself,” Brian said, “I think he believes it would be better to have you inside the tent, pissing out, than outside, pissing in. I believe Lyndon Johnson first said that, but it hasn’t lost its meaning over the years.”
“Oh, God,” Stone said.
“By the way, don’t leave your house; I’ve got an officer on the way over there to fit you out with some of today’s electronic marvels and your own cute little vest.”
“I won’t let him in the house,” Stone said.
“Oh, yes, you will,” Brian said, then hung up.
Stone put down the phone, feeling a little sick at his stomach. First Dolce and now this.
Joan buzzed him. “Willie Leahy on one,” she said.
That had been Stone’s next call. “Hello, Willie?”
“Yes, Stone.”
“What’s up? Is Carrie all right?”
“She’s still a pain in the ass, but she’s fine.”
“What’s going on?”
“Carrie said you wanted us to have a conversation with the guy staked outside your house.”
“Yes, that’s right. Is he Max Long’s?”
“Apparently not. Never heard of Max, in fact, and he doesn’t even know anybody in Atlanta.”
“Then what’s he doing out there?”
“Watching you.”
“For whom?”
“We couldn’t get him to say, not even with Peter’s hat pin, but somebody’s paying him well.”
“Oh, shit,” Stone said.
“A woman. We got that much out of him.”
“Shit again,” Stone said. “Thanks, Willie. Oh, does he have any instructions to hurt me?”
“He wasn’t armed, and I don’t think he’s the hand-to-hand-combat type.”
“Thanks, Willie. Good-bye.” Stone hung up. His very pleasant day had just gone to hell.
32
THE POLICE OFFICER SET a shirt-sized box on Stone’s desk. “Take off your shirt,” he commanded.
“Go fuck yourself and Brian Doyle, too,” Stone replied politely.
The man fished an envelope from a pocket and handed it to Stone. The return address in the corner belonged to the police commissioner. “Read this,” he said.
“I’m not touching that,” Stone replied.
The man tore open the envelope and extracted a sheet of paper. “I’ll read it to you,” he said.
“I’m not listening,” Stone replied, placing his fingers in his ears.
“Memo to personnel division!” the officer shouted. “ ‘Detective Second Grade Stone Barrington, retired, is hereby restored to active duty in the First Precinct under the command of Lieutenant Brian Doyle until further notice. Signed, et cetera, et cetera.’ Got it?”
“Stop shouting,” Stone said, removing his fingers from his ears. “I can hear you.”
The officer dug into another pocket and came out with a wallet containing a detective’s shield and an ID card with a very old photograph of Stone. “This is for you. Now take off your shirt. Orders from Lieutenant Doyle.”
“The police commissioner can’t draft somebody into the NYPD,” Stone said.
“He can, if you’re a retired cop on a pension,” the officer said. “Read your retirement papers.”
“Do they really say that?” Stone asked.
“Read ’ em yourself. Now take off your shirt, or I’ll tear it off you.”
Stone said a bad word and stood up, unbuttoning his shirt. “What’s in the box?” he asked.
“The latest in fashion,” the cop said, opening the box and holding up a gray undergarment. “They say it’ll stop anything that doesn’t have an armor-piercing tip.”
Stone fingered the garment. “Feels rough.”
“I’ll be gentle,” the cop said. “Turn around.”
Stone turned, and the man slipped the thing on him. “Zip it up,” he said.
The garment overlapped, like a double-breasted jacket, giving double protection for most of the important internal organs.
“A perfect fit,” the cop said. “You’ll take it.”
“Gee, thanks,” Stone said.
“Now sit down; I’ve got to fit you with the earpiece.”
“The what?”
The cop held out his hand, and a small bit of soft plastic lay in his palm with a wire protruding from it.
“People will be able to see that,” Stone said. “Bad people.”
“Nah,” the cop said. “It fits too far down in your ear canal. The wire has a hook on the end; that’s how you get it out: You hook the end of the wire in right here and just pull it out. My advice is, don’t lose the wire.” He turned Stone’s head to one side, stuck the device into his right ear, removed the hook, and handed it to Stone.
“How do you turn it on?”
“It’s on all the time. The battery is good for ten days.”
“What do you do after ten days?”
“If you’re still alive, I’ll bring you a new one.”
“Joan!” Stone shouted. “Bring me your makeup mirror!”
Joan came into the room with the mirror and handed it to him. “Cute underwear,” she said.
“Oh, shut up.” Stone held the mirror in position to look at his ear. “Can you see anything in my ear?”
She took back the mirror. “Yeah, daylight from the other side.” She went back to her office.
“Nice lady,” the cop said.
“Not always,” Stone replied. “Take my advice and stay away from her.”
“I heard that!” Joan yelled from her office.
“They heard it downtown,” the cop said, tapping his ear. He pulled out a vibrating cell phone. “Yeah? Good deal.” He closed the phone. “Like I said, they heard that downtown.”
“How do I get the fucking thing out?” Stone asked.
“Use the little wire with the little hook on the end.”
Stone began rooting around in his ear with the wire. “What am I supposed to hook it onto?”
“There’s a little plastic loop. I showed you, remember?”
Stone made contact and extracted the earpiece.
“It’s a good idea to wear it awhile, get used to it,” the cop said. He took the thing from Stone and reinserted it. “By the way, if you put a phone to that ear, downtown can hear both ends of the conversation, and they can speak to you.”
“That’s just great,” Stone said without enthusiasm. “It’s time for you to go away now.”
“Enjoy your badge, vest, and bug,” the man said, and with a little wave, he left.
Joan came back into the office. “What’s in your ear?” she asked.
“A bug.”
“Put your head on your desk; I’ll pour some water into your ear, and it’ll float out.”
“Not that kind of bug,” Stone said.
“Oh, you’re wired?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What’s the badge?” She picked up the commissioner’s letter and read it, then giggled. “You’re a cop again? How can you afford to pay me?”
“It isn’t funny,” Stone said. “Brian Doyle is trying to get me killed.”
“What did you do to Brian Doyle?”
“Nothing much. I just handed him a very nic
e bust on a platter, and now he’s pissed off because I made more work for him, so he did this to me.”
“This is so much more fun than working in an actual law firm,” Joan said.
“This is an actual law firm,” Stone replied.
“If you say so,” Joan said, flouncing back to her office.
“Don’t flounce,” Stone called down the hall after her.
“I’ll flounce if I want to,” she called back. “It’s not like this is an actual law firm.”
Stone tidied his desk, took off the vest, and put his shirt on. The phone rang. He didn’t wait for Joan to answer it; he just picked the phone up. “Hello?”
“It’s Dino. Dinner?”
“Sure. See you there.”
Another voice spoke on the line. “You boys have a nice evening, now.”
“What was that?” Dino asked.
“I’ll explain later. Good-bye-and go fuck yourself.”
“What?” Dino said.
“That last part was for the other guy on the line.”
“Oh.”
Stone hung up and started looking for the little wire with the hook.
33
STONE ARRIVED AT ELAINE’S shortly after Dino, and they both ordered drinks.
“What was all that about on the phone earlier today?” Dino asked.
“It’s too embarrassing to tell you about.”
“Oh, good. Tell me about it.”
“Well, first of all, I’m back on the force.”
“What?”
“No kidding. The commissioner has reactivated me and assigned me to Brian Doyle. I’ve been drafted.”
Dino began to laugh.
“You think this is funny?”
Dino tried to answer but couldn’t. He was laughing too hard.
Elaine came over and sat down. “So, what’s funny?”
Dino couldn’t stop laughing but pointed at Stone.
“Yeah?” Elaine asked. “What about him?”
Stone produced his new badge and ID and showed them to her.
“You gotta be kidding,” she said.
“It’s only temporary.”
“I’m amazed they’d have you back,” she said.
“They insisted,” Stone replied.