by Stuart Woods
Carolyn was looking antsy, and throughout dinner Stone did nothing to relieve that. When they were finished and afterdinner drinks had been served, Dino asked Hetty if she’d like to see the gardens, and the two of them left Stone and Carolyn alone.
“Now,” Carolyn said, “about this property and the other four acres
…”
Stone turned and looked at her. “Who are you?” he asked. She froze for a moment. “Didn’t I give you my card?” she asked.
“Your card and a brief bio,” Stone replied. “Why do I have the very strong feeling that, if I investigated, I’d find that everything you told me was a lie?”
Carolyn tried not to look flustered. She took a sip of her brandy and a deep breath.
“That’s a very odd thing to say to a dinner guest,” she said.
“Forgive my rudeness. Again, who are you?”
“Perhaps you’d be more comfortable if I left,” she said.
“I wouldn’t be more comfortable,” he said, “but you might.
If you wish to leave, then, by all means, do so. But if we should meet again, my first question would still be, who are you?”
She stared into her brandy glass. “All right,” she said, “I fudged my resume to get my job. Is that so terrible?”
“You did a great deal more than fudge your resume,” Stone said. “Everything you told me-and, no doubt, Terrence Prince-was a bald-faced lie. You made yourself up out of whole cloth.”
“Sometimes in life,” she said, “there is a need to just start over from scratch.”
“I suppose,” Stone replied. “But usually people who start over begin with the same name and credentials, then try to improve on those credentials as time passes.”
“All right,” she said, “I’m not proud of my past.”
“Are you a fugitive from justice?” Stone asked.
“No,” she replied. “No one is looking for me.”
“So you got away clean?” Stone asked, taking a leap.
“I’m not a criminal,” she said with some heat.
“Not in your own eyes, anyway,” Stone said. He was flying, now, making it up as he went along.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know what a sociopath is?” Stone asked. This just might push her over the edge, he thought.
But she sat perfectly still. “A person with no conscience,” she replied.
“Correct. A person who thinks only of herself and no one else. A person who could never admit wrongdoing, because she figures that, if she did it, it couldn’t be wrong.”
“That’s a very harsh judgment of someone you hardly know,” she said.
“Don’t know at all,” he responded. “Why don’t we start over. Who are you?”
“My name doesn’t matter,” she said.
“It matters in that was your first opportunity to tell the truth, and you passed on that.”
“All right, my name-at birth-was Olga Chernik. I was born in Chicago of Polish parents, I attended the public schools through the eighth grade, and then I ran away from home.”
“Where did you go?” Stone asked.
“Eventually, to Las Vegas.”
Stone thought he knew where the rest of this was going. “And you came under the aegis of a pimp, who got you hooked on heroin, and thereafter you led a life of degradation. Come on, Carolyn, you can do worse than that.”
“Worse?” she asked, incredulous.
“That’s a standard con; you get caught in a lie, so you make up something so much worse that the mark figures it must be true.”
She looked defeated. “Are you going to tell Terrence Prince about this?” she asked.
“I doubt if the occasion will arise for me to speak to him again.”
“Aren’t you going to close the Centurion deal?”
“If I do, it won’t require a personal visit from Mr. Prince; I’ll just vote the Calder shares at the stockholders’ meeting.”
“What does the Virginia Champion Farms deal have to do with your position on Centurion?” she asked.
“Is that what Prince sent you here to find out? All right, I’ll tell you: it has nothing whatever to do with Centurion.” That wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t entirely the truth, either.
“I’m confused,” she replied.
“It’s not my job to start you thinking clearly,” Stone said. “But when you do, give me a call, and maybe we can do some business. In the meantime, it would behoove you not to speak to Prince about this house and property. There will come a time when it will be more to your advantage.” He took a sip of his brandy, then stood up. “Good night,” he said.
She stood up, flustered. “Thank you for dinner.” She got out as fast as she could.
Stone was very satisfied with the way that went. Of course, he still didn’t know who she was, but her fingerprints on her brandy glass might help with that.
Stone sat sipping his brandy for a few quiet moments. Then his cell phone went off. “Hello?”
“It’s Mike Freeman.”
“Good evening, Mike; you’re up late.”
“I got a call from my operative who’s tracking Carolyn Blaine; he’s having trouble getting her fingerprints.”
“I have them,” Stone said. “Tell him to drive to the house and ring the bell.”
“Perfect,” Mike replied. “I’m coming out there tomorrow. Perhaps we can get together?”
“I’d like that. Where will you stay?”
“At the Bel-Air Hotel.”
“Has it reopened?” The Bel-Air had been closed for more than a year, undergoing a complete renovation.
“The Grand Reopening is tomorrow night; would you like to go?”
“Sure. Come here for a drink first; we’re just around the corner.”
“Six o’clock all right?”
“That’s fine.” They both hung up.
18
The following morning Stone joined Dino at poolside for breakfast. “Where’s Hetty?” he asked.
“She had an early call at the studio,” Dino replied. “How did you and Carolyn get on?”
“Not very well,” Stone replied. “She left early.”
“It’s unlike you to send a lady home early, Stone.”
“She’s no lady,” Stone replied. “Mike Freeman is coming out here today. He’s invited us to a reopening party at the Bel-Air Hotel.”
“Sounds like fun,” Dino said. “Should I ask Hetty?”
“If you like. You might do better at the party, though.”
“That’s a thought.”
Manolo brought them breakfast. “Will you be wanting lunch, Mr. Stone?”
“Probably so, Manolo; I have no plans until six, when a friend is coming for drinks. We’ll be out for dinner. How about you, Dino?”
“I may wander the town for a while,” Dino replied. “No lunch for me, Manolo.”
The man returned to the house.
Stone spent the morning reading the newspapers and doing the crossword; then he swam for a while. He had just finished lunch when his cell rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Eggers.”
“Good afternoon, Bill.”
“I’ve obtained a one-hundred-million-dollar line of credit for Arrington,” he said. “At prime.”
“Well done.”
“I’m faxing you the paperwork to look over. If you think it’s okay, I’ll messenger it to Arrington for her signature.”
“Thanks, Bill.”
“I have other news,” Eggers said. “The board of management met this morning and unanimously elected you partner.”
“That’s very good news indeed, Bill,” Stone said with feeling. “Thank you for your support with the board.”
“I’ll fax you the partnership agreement in a few minutes. Everybody signs the basic agreement; then we can talk about compensation and other things.”
“All right.”
“I’ll find you some decent office space on our floors in the building.”
/>
Stone thought fast; for some reason it hadn’t occurred to him that he would be expected to move into the Seagram Building offices of the firm. “Bill, if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to continue working out of my office in Turtle Bay.”
“I guess that would be all right. What about your secretary?”
“I’ll stick with Joan. If I need more help, I’ll let you know.”
“We’ll give you an allowance for office space and staff, then, just to even things out with the other partners. I’ll base it on the square foot cost for the average partner’s space.”
“That will be fine.”
“There’ll be a generous expense account, of course, and I propose a draw against earnings of a hundred thousand a month, adjusted annually.”
“That will be satisfactory.”
“You can use your own airplane for travel whenever you wish. Let me know what the hourly operating costs are. For other travel, we have an in-house department that will make any necessary arrangements for you.”
“What other perks should I be asking for?” Stone asked.
Eggers chuckled. “Well, you already have a car.”
“Not really,” Stone replied. “I totaled it a month ago, remember?”
“I had forgotten. What would you like to drive?”
“Let me get back to you on that,” Stone said. He was currently driving an armored Bentley Flying Spur that Strategic Services had lent him.
“How about club memberships?”
“I don’t belong to a club.”
“Is there one you’d like? The Metropolitan? The Century? The Racquet Club? We have partners who could propose you for almost anything.”
“Let me think about that.” Stone had never thought of himself as a clubman.
“We can help with most of the golf clubs in the area, too.”
“That’s a thought.”
“You really ought to get yourself a place in the Hamptons, Stone. The firm has a very favorable mortgage program.”
“Thanks, but I’m all right with my place in Connecticut. Maybe at some later time.”
“As you wish. I’ll get these papers off to you right away.”
“Thanks, Bill, and thank you again for your support.”
Stone hung up feeling lighter than air. A partnership at Woodman amp; Weld! He had never thought it possible until recently, and now it had actually happened.
Manolo came and took his dishes away, then came back and presented him with an envelope. “A fax for you, Mr. Stone.”
Stone opened the envelope and found the partnership agreement. He read it through quickly, then signed it and set it aside for FedEx pickup. Then he read the note for Arrington’s line of credit, which was well drawn and required no changes. As he returned the papers to the envelope, a movement caught his eye. He looked up.
“Arrington!” he said. She was standing there looking gorgeous, as usual. He got up and met her halfway. “I wasn’t expecting you; why didn’t you let me know?” They hugged and kissed.
“I remembered last night that the Bel-Air is reopening tonight,” she said, “so I thought what the hell, good excuse to come out. We left early this morning.”
He held a chair for her. “Would you like lunch?”
“I had something on the airplane, which was a charter. There wasn’t time to send for the Centurion jet. You know, Stone. Maybe it’s time I got my own airplane. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
“You’ll have to advise me on what to get.”
“I’ll be glad to do that and to get you more expert advice than I’m able to offer.”
“Can I afford it?”
“Arrington, you can afford anything your heart desires,” Stone replied. “By the way, I have the papers for your line of credit.” He opened the envelope and handed them to her.
“I think this is yours,” she said, handing back his partnership agreement. “And congratulations again.”
“Thank you; you helped make it possible.”
She glanced at the first page of the agreement. “A hundred million dollars!”
“You don’t have to borrow it all, just enough for the Champion deal and whatever else you want, like the airplane.”
“Do you have a pen?” She accepted one and signed the papers where Stone indicated.
Manolo came out with iced tea for both of them, and Stone handed him the partnership and line of credit agreements in the envelope, first writing the address on the outside. “Will you fax these, then FedEx the originals to New York, please, Manolo?”
“Of course, Mr. Stone.”
“I’ve been making some plans, Stone,” Arrington said. “Let me tell you about them.”
“I’d like to hear them.” He sat back and morphed into his listening lawyer mode.
19
Arrington brushed a strand of her blonde hair from her forehead and took a long drink of her iced tea. “I haven’t told you about this,” she said, “and you haven’t visited, so you haven’t seen it.”
“Seen what?”
“My house.”
“I recall your saying that you were thinking of building.”
“That was years ago. I went a little crazy after Vance’s death. I had never had access to huge amounts of money, and Vance was-how shall I put it?-prudent. I looked for a big house in Virginia and didn’t find anything I liked, so I decided to build the house to end all houses, and I did. Twenty thousand square feet of it.”
“Wow.”
“Well, yes. I hired an architect and an interior designer, and I went on a shopping spree all over the South to find just the right pieces to furnish it. The local gentry were peeved, because I was denuding the antique shops in the county and running the prices up on whatever was left, but eventually, I got it done.” She sighed. “Perhaps ‘overdone’ would be a better word.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t, and I don’t want you looking through old Architectural Digests for the piece they did. So, for weeks now, I’ve been tagging pieces in the house, and I’m going to throw the biggest auction anybody in Virginia has ever seen. Sotheby’s is sending down an auctioneer. And-you won’t believe this-I’ve found a buyer for the house whose tastes are probably better than mine. I won’t get all my money out of the place, but I’ll get three-quarters of it and be happy to have it.”
“Where will you live?” Stone asked.
“At Champion Farms,” she said.
“I wasn’t aware there was a suitable house on the property.”
“There isn’t, but there used to be. It was contemporaneous with Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, but it was destroyed by fire in the 1920s. A researcher has been able to find the original plans in the Charlottesville library-no one even knew they were there. So, I’m going to re-create the place on the original spot. It’s wildly overgrown, but there are beautiful trees, including a neglected colonnade of old oaks to the house. I’ll replace the damaged and fallen trees.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“It’s going to take all my time for the next two years, and then I’ll be looking for another project to keep me busy. I’ve learned that I’m dangerous when I’m not busy.”
Stone laughed. “I can imagine.”
“There’s something else: I want to talk to you about Peter.”
“All right, perhaps it’s time you did.”
“Peter is fifteen, and he’s at Episcopal High School, in Alexandria; it’s the best prep school in the South, on a level with the best New England preps. He is very, very bright, and he’s a grade ahead. He’s also very handsome, and tall for his age.” She retrieved a photograph from her purse and handed it to Stone. “For you.”
Stone stared at the boy-young man, really-and sighed. “He looks extraordinarily like my father.”
“I remember that photograph in your house,” she said. “Anyway, the school was reluctant to accept him at first, but then three of the sen
ior faculty had a long lunch with him-I wasn’t present-and they were impressed with his maturity and seriousness, so they accepted him as a boarding student in the ninth grade. From what they’ve said about him so far, he’ll probably graduate in three years, maybe even two.”
“That’s breathtaking,” Stone said.
“I’m sure you were bright, too, Stone,” she said. “God knows he didn’t get it from me.”
“Now, now.”
Arrington reached into the large handbag resting next to her chair and handed Stone a thick envelope. “This is my will and the trust I set up for Peter. I’d like you and the people at Woodman amp; Weld to look it over and redraw it. My beneficiaries haven’t changed, but I’ll be interested to see if you think the trust needs work.”
“Of course,” Stone said. “We’ll do that as a courtesy.”
“You’ll never make any money that way, Stone.”
“We’ll do all right.”
“You’ll see that I’ve appointed you Peter’s trustee. I didn’t tell you, because, I suppose, I felt invulnerable, but recently I had a brush with ovarian cancer. They caught it early, but I had to have my ovaries out, and now I’m on hormones. If I get sick again, I’ll give you as much notice as I can, but you could, possibly, find yourself being a father to your son.”
“That would be an honor,” Stone said.
“Considering that you’re his father, it’s more of a duty,” she said. “Maybe he’ll find that out one day, but I don’t want you to tell him. He’s Vance’s son to the world, and that will be an advantage to him, if you help him handle it properly.”
“I can see how it would be.”
“You’re going to have to keep it from him how rich he’s going to be.”
“I expect he may have already figured that out,” Stone said, “and if he hasn’t, the kids at his school are going to tell him.”
“I suppose you’re right. Then we’ll both have to do what we can to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground.”
“One way is not to give him control of his trust until he’s older,” Stone said, “perhaps at thirty-five.”
“That’s a very good idea, and one I’m happy to leave in your hands.”
“Thank you; I’ll try and do right by him.”