by Stuart Woods
Meg sighed. “I suppose it would be ungrateful of me not to tell you about it.”
“Worse, it could be dangerous.”
“All right,” she said. “I guess it’s time, and I’ve had just enough to drink.”
15
Meg took another swig of her brandy, and, her tongue thus loosened, she began.
“Gino and I met at Stanford and had what, for that time, would pass as a torrid affair. He was more attractive then—less bullish-looking, slender, and at times, quite funny.
“He got me through my coding courses, being something of a prodigy, where I was klutzy. I had good ideas for what the software should do, but I was not good at telling it how. Gino sort of came behind me with a broom and a dustpan and made my ideas work. We were a good team, two sides of the same coin.
“I also took a lot of business courses, and I was way ahead of him in that regard. I planned for several years to do a start-up, and when I was getting ready I finally told him about it. He went nuts, accusing me of shutting him out of the profits that should come from his work. I took a hard line. I told him I would give him five percent of the company and he could buy another five percent, and that if he objected to that he could pay for the whole ten percent. He borrowed money to scrape up the investment. What I didn’t know was that he borrowed it from a guy who was a loan shark.
“By the time we got the company operating smoothly, I had to loan Gino the money to pay off his lender, and his investment ended up costing him twice what it should have. I saw that his debt to me was paid from the proceeds of the sale, and I made sure that in the transaction, he didn’t get to keep any of his stock, whereas I hung onto forty-five percent of mine.
“By the time of the sale I had managed to shunt him aside from the self-driving car to another product with much less promise. After the sale, my new partners insisted I drop development on that product, and Gino was just sitting at a desk, doing not much of anything. I hadn’t cheated him, but I hadn’t been very kind to him, either. Our affair had ended a couple of years before, and he had married Veronica, a very sharp cookie who brought out the worst in him. She’s certainly a partner, or even a moving force, in any criminality he’s involved in.
“Finally, I made it impossible for him not to resign, and he did. What I didn’t know was that he took copies of all the software on the car project, and although I had changed all the passwords, he managed to hack into our system and steal them.”
Stone interrupted: “That’s when you should have called the police.”
“I couldn’t do it,” Meg replied. “Not because I didn’t want to or didn’t have the guts, but because I was in hot negotiations to sell the company. The kind of news we would have made in Silicon Valley would have blown that for me, and I didn’t have the development money to continue the project without a sale. So I didn’t call in the authorities, and my lawyers tell me it’s too late now, that Gino could make a case for at least partial ownership of the software, thus having the right to access it. Now I’m stuck with Gino lying in wait around every corner, metaphorically speaking.”
“Not entirely metaphorically,” Stone said. “He’s already made two attempts on your life, and the last one came very close to success. If Dino hadn’t had the presence of mind to interfere, and the weapon, you and I would both be food for the gulls on Loggerhead Key.”
“That was very timely of Dino,” Meg agreed.
“And not for the first time,” Stone said. “He and I have a history of his pulling my fat from the fire, not to mention my ass.”
“That’s a good friend to have,” Meg said. “I wish I had one like him.”
“Stick around,” Stone replied.
* * *
—
GINO SAT at his computer in his and Veronica’s hotel suite. “Meg is in New York,” he said, pointing at his screen.
“Where?” Veronica asked, looking over his shoulder. “A hotel?”
“Let me try Google World,” Gino said, then watched as the satellite shot zoomed in on the signal from Meg’s cell phone. “I can’t figure out what this is,” he said. “It’s not marked as a hotel—it must be a house, a town house.”
“Well, after we’ve looked at apartments today, let’s see if we can find it. The desk just called—the car is waiting for us downstairs.”
Gino grabbed his jacket. “Then let’s go find a place to live.
* * *
—
IT WAS a condo on Park Avenue, in a new building. Gino had steered the agent away from a co-op, since the board would do a background check and demand tax returns, an area where his background was spotty.
This condo was promising: around four thousand square feet on two floors, high up, if not quite the penthouse. The views were up and down Park Avenue, west to the park and east to the river. It was the show apartment for the building and was, thus, nicely furnished.
“What do you think?” he asked Veronica.
“I think it meets our current standards,” she replied. “We can always move up later.” Gino haggled for the furnishings, then signed a sales contract. “When can we move in?” he asked the salesman.
“The minute your check clears,” the man said.
Gino wrote a nine-million-dollar check, signed it, and handed it over. “Walk this to your bank and get it cleared,” he said. “We’ll wait here.”
“I should mention that there are no linens included—sheets and towels—if you’re planning to sleep here tonight.”
Veronica spoke up. “While you’re clearing the check, I’ll run over to Bloomingdale’s and stock up. Do we need pots and pans, too?”
“Yes, and small appliances—toaster, coffeemaker.”
“Bloomie’s has it all.” She rode down in the elevator with the salesman.
“Is his check really going to clear?” he asked her.
“You bet your ass it is,” she replied. “He’s an impatient man, so be quick about it.”
He introduced her to the man on the desk and the doorman, then shook her hand and hailed a cab. Veronica got into their rented Mercedes and headed for Fifty-ninth and Lex.
* * *
—
GINO STROLLED around the apartment, taking another look at it. There was a nice study with bookcases filled with some books-by-the-yard; they each had a dressing room and bath; he liked the mattress. Home, sweet home.
Half an hour later, the agent walked in, handed him the ownership documents, the rules of the building, and a fistful of keys. “Nice doing business with you, Mr. Bellini,” he said, and got out of there.
* * *
—
VERONICA GOT hold of a personal shopper at Bloomingdale’s and roamed the store while the shopper made lists of her purchases. When she couldn’t think of anything else to buy, she wrote a check for her goods, extracted a promise of immediate delivery, and left for their hotel, where she quickly packed their bags and checked out.
Back at her new building, she asked the concierge to find her a housekeeper, then went upstairs, where she found Gino, opening boxes from Bloomie’s.
“Everything go okay?” she asked him.
He tossed her a set of keys. “We’re in business, babe, and Miss Meg will soon be out of business.”
16
Stone had awakened that morning and discovered two dogs in bed with them. He moved them gently off, so as not to wake Meg, then ordered breakfast from Helene. Shortly the dumbwaiter chimed, and he woke Meg with a kiss on the ear.
“What’s that I smell?” she asked.
“Homemade sausages,” he replied, “and scrambled eggs, orange juice, muffins, and coffee.” He switched on the morning news shows.
“You’re an information freak, aren’t you?” she asked.
“You betcha. I have to know what’s going on. Shall I tell you how your day is going to work?”
“Please do.”
“Fred is yours for the day. Let me explain about him. He’s British, but he came to me from a French friend who gave me a year of him. Within the first week I had hired him permanently.”
“What’s his background?”
“Military. He was a regimental sergeant-major in the Royal Marines, and after retirement did some security work. He’s a lot tougher than his size and appearance would indicate, and absolutely fearless.”
“Can I borrow a gun from you? I’d feel better carrying it.”
“Do you have a New York City license to carry a concealed weapon?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you may not have a gun. Unlicensed possession in this city carries a prison sentence. Fred, however, is licensed, and a crack shot into the bargain, and the Bentley is very nicely armored.”
“Why do you have an armored car?” she asked.
“I bought my first one from a Mercedes dealer who had ordered it built for a client who needed it sooner than he had planned. It was arranged for me to buy it from his widow. I was in an awful accident with it, and the armor saved my life. Strategic Services sold me the Bentley—they have a division that armors vehicles.”
“They’re the ones who provided security for us in Key West?”
“Correct, and they will discreetly follow your car and accompany you in and out of shops, or wherever else you want to go. They are also armed, and they have photographs of Gino Bellini.” He handed her a business card. “If you want to look at apartments or houses, call Margo Goodale, who will set that up for you.”
“Sounds like I’ll have a full day,” Meg said.
“Feel free to make calls from any phone in the house. If you need secretarial services, see Joan—she’s the very best at what she does.”
“If I find an apartment I like, what’s the procedure?”
“You sign an offer and give Margo some earnest money. Condos are the easiest to buy quickly. Co-ops require a lengthy application process, sight of your tax returns, and a personal interview with the board. It can take two or three months, but I may be able to help hurry the process along, depending on the building, and of course, you already have living quarters here, if you’re comfortable with that.”
“Of course I am.”
“Feel free to give this address as your own.”
“Thank you. May I hire you as my attorney?”
“Of course. I’m happy to have you for a client, and when you mention my name, always say that I’m with Woodman & Weld. That carries some weight around town.”
“I’ll remember.”
“We’ll likely dine with Dino and Viv this evening. I’ll let you know about that.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing them.”
“If you want an office to work from, Arthur Steele will arrange one in his building. You’re entitled to that as a board member, when you’re in town. If you buy a residence here, you’ll have to make your own office arrangements, or better yet, have a home office.”
“You’re full of advice,” Meg said.
“If my friends would just follow my advice,” Stone said, “their lives would be so much richer, fuller, and happier.”
“Do your friends resist your advice?”
“Almost always.”
“Why?”
“Because they think it can’t be all that great if they’re not paying for it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Meg said. “So far, your advice has been impeccable.”
“I like that word,” Stone replied.
* * *
—
“MEG IS on the move,” Gino Bellini said to Veronica, holding up his iPhone. They were in the rental Mercedes, driving down Park Avenue.
“And just when we were about to pin her down,” Veronica said.
“Wait a minute.” They were stopped at a traffic light at Fifty-seventh and Park. Gino pointed across the intersection. “She’s right there,” he said. “She must be in the green Bentley.” The light changed and their driver moved on.
“Make a U-turn as soon as possible,” Gino said to their driver.
The driver did so.
“Now step on it. Look for a green Bentley.”
The driver moved into the right lane, which was clear for the moment, in order to catch up. A few blocks up Park, he did catch up, but the Bentley was in the left-hand lane, turning left.
“Shit!” Gino yelled.
“I’m sorry, sir, they switched lanes on me just as I was catching up to them.”
“Can you figure where they’re going?”
“They’re driving west on Sixty-sixth Street, so they could either turn downtown on Fifth Avenue or cross Central Park on that street.”
Gino watched his iPhone. “They’ve turned down Fifth Avenue,” he said. “How long to catch up with them?”
“No way of telling, sir, in this traffic.”
“Oh, the hell with it,” he said. Gino’s cell phone rang.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Joe Cross,” a man’s voice said.
“Dirty Joe, how are you?”
“Not so good. I missed another chance.”
“I’m not surprised to hear it. She’s in New York. What happened?”
“I caught her and this guy on a little island west of Key West, but the wind and water didn’t cooperate, and they had a friend on another boat who was armed. We had to get out of there fast, and as it was, the guy put a bullet in my radar, an expensive repair.”
“Add it to your bill,” Gino said, “and get your ass to New York.” He gave the man his new address. “Find a hotel nearby and be at my place at ten AM tomorrow.”
“Done. Can I overnight a package to myself at your address?”
“Containing what?”
“Firearms. I can’t buy them there, and I don’t know yet where my hotel will be.”
“Sure, you do that.” Gino hung up.
“You’re going to use him again?” Veronica asked.
“How many hit men do I know?” he whispered to her, conscious of the driver’s big ears.
17
Meg returned to Stone’s house a little after five, and Fred hauled several shopping bags and boxes up to the master suite. Stone was at his desk, and he made them a drink from his office bar.
“A good day, I hope?”
“A very good one. Tonight I’ll be a new woman—you won’t recognize me. In fact, I may be a new woman every night for a week.”
“You bought that many clothes?”
“I did.”
“Look at any apartments?”
“Didn’t have time for that—another day. Where are we dining?”
“At Patroon, a favorite restaurant of ours. You’ll like it.”
“Can I dress to kill?”
“Sort of. It’s not all that formal, though, so don’t overdo it.”
“You give such good advice,” she said.
“Told you so.”
* * *
—
DIRTY JOE and Jungle Jane were packing for their trip. “Did you get the weapons off?” she asked.
“On their way. They’ll be at Gino’s house.”
“Where are we staying?”
Joe sat down on the bed and did some Googling. “Best deal that’s close to Gino’s is the Lombardy, on East Fifty-sixth Street, off Park Avenue. There’s a suite available.”
“Sounds good,” she replied. “Gino is paying anyway.”
“I booked for a week. If we get it done, we can take a few days off, see a musical or something.”
“How will I be armed?”
“The little .380. I’ll have a .45, both with silencers and three magazines.”
“Sounds good.”
&nb
sp; “If Gino can nail her down, we’ll both take her. She won’t survive the crossfire.”
“Good deal.”
* * *
—
THEY WERE SETTLED into a booth at Patroon, with drinks and menus before them.
“How was your day?” Viv asked Meg.
“Just lovely.”
“How did your security detail work out?”
“They were perfect. I felt safe at all times. You do good work.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Viv said.
“Did I tell you,” Stone said to Meg, “that Strategic Services is the second-largest security company in the world?”
“Nope. Who’s the largest, Viv?”
“I keep trying to forget their name,” Viv said.
“What’s your job there?”
“Executive VP for security. I used to be chief operating officer, but I didn’t like the business side, so I asked for the change.”
“She’s a happier woman since then,” Dino said.
“I worry less,” said Viv. “I didn’t like thinking about the bottom line all the time. I just assemble the right teams for the work in hand.”
“Viv was quite a cop,” Stone said. “She saved Dino’s life, took out an assassin, and on another occasion, she fired a single shot from a handgun at a terrorist driving a car packed with explosives, from nearly a block away, and put the round through the back window and into the back of the driver’s head. The bomb, if it had gone off, would have taken out a big chunk of Second Avenue. She got a medal and a big reward for that one.”
“I didn’t know policemen could accept rewards,” Meg said.
“As it happened, she had resigned from the NYPD that morning to marry Dino later that same day.”
“Good timing, Viv!” Meg said. “Can an ex-cop carry a weapon in this city?”
“There are two sitting at this table,” Stone said, “not to mention one serving officer.”