Unnatural Acts

by Stuart Woods

  “Thanks, sweetheart.” Herbie walked into the big corner office. “Good morning, Bill,” he said.

  “Herbert,” Eggers said. “I got your message about leaving early yesterday.”

  “Yes, I had a lot of work to get done for Karla, and I didn’t want her interrupting me, as she is prone to do, so I took it home and finished it there.”

  “I see.”

  “It was the last work I’ll be doing for Karla,” Herbie said, matter-of-factly.

  Eggers looked surprised. “Are you resigning from the firm, Herbert?”

  “No, Bill, just from Karla. I won’t work for her another minute.”

  A flicker of a smile crossed Eggers’s face. “And how did Karla take that?” he asked.

  “Oh, we parted on good terms,” Herbie said, handing Eggers the letter.

  Eggers picked up the letter and read it, looking more and more amazed. “Herbert, did you forge this?”

  “Certainly not, Bill.”

  Eggers pressed the speaker button on his phone and dialed an extension.

  “Karla Martin.”

  “Karla, it’s Bill.”

  “Good morning, Bill.”

  “Good morning. I’ve just read the letter you sent me, recommending Herbert Fisher for senior associate. Do you stand by it?”

  There was the briefest of pauses, causing Herbie to begin to sweat, then she said, sweetly for Karla, “Of course, Bill. He’s a very bright young man, and he’s done fine work for me.”

  “Thank you, Karla,” Eggers said, then hung up. His gaze had never left Herbie’s face. “I’m having a little trouble digesting this,” he said. “Do you have photographs of Karla in bed with a donkey?”

  Herbie laughed heartily. “Karla? I can’t imagine her in bed with man or beast.”

  “Neither can I,” Eggers said, “but before you walked in here I could never have imagined her writing this letter, either.”

  “Hard shell, soft heart,” Herbie said, shrugging. “Who knew?”

  “Certainly not I,” Eggers said. “So you’re making a formal request to be promoted to senior associate?”

  “Karla was kind enough to do that for me,” Herbie said.

  “But you do want it, don’t you?”

  “Of course, Bill. I think I could be more useful to the firm in that position. And not having to slave away for Karla or another partner would give me time to make some rain around here.”

  “You think you could do that?” Eggers asked.

  “Let’s find out. My guess is that Marshall Brennan might be disposed to giving us some new business, and I’d like to handle it.”

  “What else do you want, Herbert?”

  “A substantial raise, a real office with a window, my own secretary, and a full-time associate to do everything I don’t want to do myself.”

  “Is that all?”

  “For the time being.”

  “And what will you do if I don’t give it to you?”

  Herbie took a deep breath and prepared to threaten to resign, but he stopped himself. “I think this is in the firm’s best interests, Bill, and you always do what’s in the firm’s best interests.”

  “Nobody’s ever made senior associate around here in under three years,” Eggers said.

  Herbie observed that Eggers had not fired him yet, and he pressed his luck just a bit. “I’ve heard that,” he said, “and I think this might give a lot of the associates new hope—even make them work harder.”

  Eggers pressed a button on his phone.

  “Yes, Mr. Eggers?” Jane asked.

  “Come in, please.”

  “We moved George Howard to a bigger office yesterday, didn’t we?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Give his old office to Herbert, and find him a decent secretary. Herbert is our newest senior associate. Send out the memo, and send a release to the papers and the law journals.”

  “Yessir.”

  “And who is our newest, greenest, most forlorn associate?”

  Jane squinted at the ceiling for a moment. “That would be young Bobby Bentley,” she said.

  “Tell him he works for Herbert now.”

  “Yessir. Anything else?”

  “Yes, type up a memo to payroll for my signature, giving Herbert a fifteen percent raise.”

  Herbie made a loud coughing noise.

  “All right, twenty-five percent.”

  “Yessir!” Jane sped back to her desk.

  Eggers looked at Herbie. “Why are you still here?”

  “Thank you, Bill.” Herbie tried to leave without appearing to hurry.

  11

  DINO WOKE from a sound sleep with the sudden knowledge that his penis was in someone’s mouth, and that long, red hair was tickling his belly. He stuffed an extra pillow behind his head and watched, with growing excitement that ended in a veritable explosion. “Oh, God,” he moaned.

  Shelley Bach moved up the bed to share his pillow. “Well,” she said, “I do know what you like.”

  “I can’t deny that,” Dino said. He took a deep breath and said what he had to say. “Shelley, you can’t be here—it’s too dangerous for both of us.”

  “You’re afraid that you’ll lose your job if you’re found consorting with a fugitive, right?”

  “More than that, Shelley, I’m afraid that you’ll be in prison soon and that I will be, too. Can’t you understand that that is too high a price to pay for a good blow job?”

  “A sublime blow job,” she pointed out.

  “I agree, but they won’t put us in the same cell, and I can’t afford the tab when the FBI finally closes in on you.”

  “They won’t,” she said. “Would you like to know the steps I’ve taken to prevent that from ever happening?”

  “Good God, no! I don’t want to know a thing!”

  “Listen, Dino, if it’s war between the FBI and me, it’s a fair fight.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a minute, but we have to end this and right now.”

  “Oh, Dino,” she breathed, “you wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you? You know how I behave when people disappoint me.”

  Dino got out of bed and reached for a robe. “Shelley, I wish you luck, I really do, but you have to go now.”

  “You want me to walk brazenly through your lobby and past the doorman?”

  “You can take the elevator to the basement, turn right at the laundry room, and go out the service entrance.”

  “Slink out, you mean, as if I’m ashamed of being with you?”

  “That’s your call, Shelley, but you have to go.”

  “But no one knows about us, Dino.”

  “Stone Barrington knows,” Dino replied, regretting immediately having said so.

  Shelley sat up in bed, exposing a magnificent pair of breasts. “You told Stone?”

  Dino fumbled for a way out. “He saw you come into the building,” he said, “and he recognized you. I didn’t have to tell him.”

  “Well now,” she said, looking thoughtful. “I’m going to have to see that he doesn’t drop any hints to law enforcement.”

  “Shelley, don’t talk like that. Stone would never do that—he would want to protect me.”

  “I suppose,” she said, getting out of bed and taking some underwear from her suitcase.

  “I’ve got to get to the precinct, so I’m going to shave and shower,” Dino said, “and I’d appreciate it very much if you would be gone when I’m done. I wish you well, Shelley.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Shelley said, turning her back and stepping into a pair of panties.

  Dino went into his bathroom, showered and shaved, then he walked back into his bedroom, looking carefully around. Shelley’s suitcase was gone, and his bed was neatly made. He had to search the rest of the apartment before he could feel relieved.

  DINO ARRIVED at the precinct and went to his office. A pile of mail on his desk greeted him.

  “Morning, Lieutenant,” a voice said, and he looked up to find his n
ewest detective, an attractive brunette named Viv DeCarlo, standing in his doorway.

  “Morning, DeCarlo,” he said brusquely. “What do you need?”

  “The DNA came back in the Bronson murder,” she said. “It’s a match for the boyfriend. I need an APB.”

  “Have you been to his house?” Dino asked. “It would save a lot of departmental bother if you could make the collar without the trouble of an APB.”

  “No, sir, I haven’t,” she said. “I’ll need an arrest warrant and a SWAT team for that. Would that be less trouble than an APB?”

  “It’s a toss-up,” Dino said, “but call the DA and get the warrant. Type up an authorization for the SWAT team, and I’ll sign it.” Dino opened the top piece of mail on his desk, a large brown envelope with an FBI return address. He shook it, and a wanted poster featuring a becoming photograph of Shelley Bach spilled onto his desktop.

  “Hey,” DeCarlo said, “that’s the chick from D.C. who offed all those people, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Dino said. “Is there anything else preventing you from getting back to work?”

  “No, no, Lieutenant. Thanks for your help.”

  Dino sat down and looked at the poster, then he called Stone.

  “YOU’RE UP early today,” Stone said.

  “I’m up early every day, unlike you.”

  “I don’t have to get in early to make the morning shift think I work for a living,” Stone replied.

  “Well, there is that,” Dino said. “Listen, pal, I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

  “Give me the good news first.”

  “Okay, I threw what’s-her-name out first thing this morning.”

  “Right after you screwed her, right?”

  “The point is, she’s gone and out of my life.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “She’s not necessarily out of your life.”

  There was a long silence. “Dino,” Stone said, “I’m failing to figure out what that means.”

  “It means she knows you know.”

  “You told her you told me?”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. I told her you saw her coming into my building and recognized her.”

  “So, you managed to convey my knowledge of her presence in New York while covering your own ass?”

  “Well, yeah, I thought that was best.”

  “Best for you.”

  “Listen, Stone, it was an accident. We were arguing, and I spilled that you knew, but I couldn’t let her think I told you. She might have offed me on the spot.”

  “So now she’ll off me slightly later,” Stone pointed out.

  “I did my best to convince her that you would never rat her out because you would protect me.”

  “So, I come out of this dead, but a hero in her eyes?”

  “Look, pal, I’m sorry, I really am, but she had me against the wall, and I was grasping at straws.”

  “Next time, grasp at a different straw, will you?”

  “Again, I’m sorry. Gotta run.” Dino hung up, and he was sweating. What the hell, he thought, the alternative was not to warn him.

  12

  STONE HAD just come into his office when Joan buzzed him. “Herbie on one.”

  Stone picked up the phone. “Good morning, Herbie. How did it go with Mike Freeman?”

  “Better than I could have hoped,” Herbie replied. “Dink is at the funny farm, thanks to Mike’s help, and Mike offered me a job at Strategic Services, if I ever want to leave Woodman and Weld.”

  “Are you thinking of doing that?” Stone asked.

  “No, but having that to fall back on gave me the guts to tell Karla Martin to sort of go fuck herself and get her to write a recommendation to Eggers that he promote me to senior associate.”

  “Herbie, it takes a while for an associate to break through that particular ceiling.”

  “It’s done, Stone. Eggers went for it.”

  “What have you been smoking?”

  “I kid you not. I’m in an office with a window, next to a corner office, with a beautiful view up Park Avenue, and I’m interviewing secretaries this afternoon. I’ve got myself an associate to abuse, too, name of Bobby Bentley.”

  “Go easy on him, Herbie, Bobby’s dad is an important client.”

  “Well, that’s good news. I need to make some rain around here.”

  “Good thinking. Congratulations, and have a perfect day.”

  “How could it get any more perfect?” Herbie hung up.

  HALF AN HOUR later, Joan buzzed him. “Marshall Brennan on one.”

  Stone was surprised; he had never received a call from Brennan. “Hello?”

  “Stone, Marshall Brennan.”

  “Good morning, Marshall.”

  “I’m calling to thank you for the way you dealt with my son’s problem. He called me this morning from Winwood Farm, and we made up. He says he’s going to make a go of his treatment, then go back to Yale.”

  “That’s wonderful news, Marshall.”

  “Tell me, who is Herbert Fisher?”

  “He’s a lawyer at Woodman and Weld and the young man who made all this happen.”

  “You mean you weren’t responsible?”

  “Only indirectly. I judged that Herb was the best man for the job, so I brought him in.”

  “And he’s at Woodman and Weld?”

  “Yes, a senior associate.”

  “What does ‘senior associate’ mean?”

  “It’s the level at the firm from which partners are selected, and Herb got that promotion faster than any other associate ever has. I’m sure he’d appreciate a call from you, and he’d certainly appreciate any other work you might be able to send his way.”

  “Why don’t you bring him to lunch today? I’d like to meet him.”

  “We’d both enjoy that, Marshall.”

  “P.J. Clarke’s at one? I’ll book.”

  “See you there, Marshall.” Stone hung up and called Herbie. “You and I are having lunch with Marshall Brennan today.”

  “You’re kidding me!”

  “Nope. He wants to express his gratitude for your work, and he might even be more appreciative than that. P.J. Clarke’s, at one.”

  “Not the Four Seasons?”

  “Marshall’s a pretty down-to-earth guy. I think he was uncomfortable at the Four Seasons last time we met.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  STONE AND HERBIE arrived at the restaurant simultaneously and found Marshall Brennan already seated. “You’re not Herbie anymore, you’re Herb,” Stone whispered. He made the introduction, Marshall thanked Herbie, and they ordered. Marshall had the bacon cheeseburger.

  “Herb,” Marshall said, “can you ride a horse?”

  “Yes,” Herbie replied, with a straight face.

  “Can you take a couple of weeks off this summer?”

  “I have some vacation time coming,” Herbie said, looking askance at Stone, who shrugged almost imperceptibly.

  “Dink’s going to get out of Winwood Farm sometime this summer, and I’m sending him out to my ranch in Montana for a few weeks, before he starts at Yale again this fall. How’d you like to go with him?”

  “Mr. Brennan, I’m a reasonably priced lawyer, but an expensive babysitter.”

  Brennan laughed. “Dink doesn’t need a babysitter, he needs a friend. He spoke well of you when we talked this morning, said he’d like to get to know you better.”

  “In that case I’d be delighted to visit Montana.”

  “Good. I’ll let you know the dates later. Now, Herb, I understand you’re a senior associate and looking for some business of your own.”

  “Both of those things are true,” Herbie said.

  “I have a substantial investment in a start-up software company that I have high hopes for. They’re smart kids, but they need some adult supervision with legal matters, especially intellectual property. You know anything about that?”

  “I do, sir, and by tomorrow mo
rning I’ll know a lot more,” Herbie said.

  Brennan handed Herbie a card. “This is the CEO. They’re housed in an old industrial building in SoHo. Drop in and see them, will you?”

  Herbie looked at the card. “High Cotton Ideas,” he read. “I like the sound of that. Now, Mr. Brennan …”

  “Please, it’s Marshall.”

  “Marshall, I have some business for you, if you want it—a young lawyer with two million dollars to invest.”

  “My bottom limit with clients is ten million,” Brennan said. “Who’s the young man?”

  “I am he,” Herbie said, “and I’ll make it five million. That’s the best I can do.”

  “Okay,” Brennan said. “My secretary will send you the documents, and you send me a check, then we’ll set about making you rich.”

  “Thank you, Marshall. I’ll look forward to that.”

  Brennan turned toward Stone. “How about you, Stone? From what I hear you’ve got money that needs to be put to work.”

  Stone had thought about this before but hadn’t known how to approach Brennan. Word was, he was almost impossible to hire these days. “I’ll send you a check for twenty-five million of mine and ten million of my son’s. He’s at Yale, in the drama school.”

  “You have his power of attorney?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll send you the paperwork this afternoon.”

  Their food arrived, and they dug in.

  AFTER LUNCH, the three men walked out of the restaurant to find cabs.

  “Herb,” Brennan said, looking him up and down, “you dress very well.”

  “Thank you, Marshall.”

  “I’m aware that I’m pretty much clueless about clothes. Would you take me on as a patient?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll call you for lunch again, and you can take me shopping.”

  Stone and Herbie put Brennan into a cab, then hailed one for themselves.

  “Man oh man,” Herbie said, “I’m investing with Marshall Brennan! I would never have been able to swing that on my own.”

  “If it’s any consolation, Herb, neither would I,” Stone said.

  13