by Stuart Woods
“Just what I’ve read in the papers,” Stone said. “I attended his daughter’s wedding last night—his new son-in-law is a client of mine. I’d never met Gunn before.”
“Jim Hackett was a good friend of Gunn’s; it was Jim who invested the firm’s money with him.”
“You said ten million. What part of your cash reserves does that represent?”
“Only a small part; we’re sitting on over half a billion in cash.”
“Well, that’s good. Have you checked your insurance policies?”
“What insurance policies?”
“In your corporate portfolio you may have something that protects corporate funds from theft.”
Freeman pressed a button on his phone. “Get me the legal department, an insurance specialist.”
“I’ll get right back to you,” his secretary said.
“It would certainly make things simpler if we’re covered for that,” Freeman said.
“Mike, I have to tell you that I had a call from Bill Eggers on the way over. He’s meeting with Gunn’s corporate counsel, a man named Leighton Craft, this afternoon to discuss the firm’s representing Gunn, and he wants me to help handle that.”
“Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest, since you represent us?”
“If it looks that way, we can seal me off from any contact with the representation of Gunn,” Stone explained, “but I understand that Gunn’s position is that he’s innocent of any wrongdoing and is cooperating with the U.S. Attorney.”
“Not like the Madoff thing, huh?”
“I hope not. Bill wants me at the first meeting this afternoon. I’ll need to look into this some more, to be sure there’s no conflict, but in any case, my first loyalty is to Strategic Services.”
Stone’s cell phone buzzed, and he looked at it. “It’s Eggers. I’d better take this.” He got up and walked across the room. “Yes, Bill?”
“Stone, I’m going to seal you off from the Gunn representation. I don’t want it to interfere with your representation of Strategic Services, and you should tell Mike Freeman that I can’t work on his account until the Gunn thing is cleared up, which could be some time.”
“I understand, Bill.”
“This means you’re going to have to handle the Strategic Services account without consulting me. Most of the rest of the firm will be available to you, if you need help.”
“Thanks, I’ll let Mike know.” Stone hung up and returned to his seat. “I’m all yours,” Stone said.
“Good.”
“But Bill is going to have to be absent from your account while he’s dealing with the Gunn thing.”
“I understand.”
“Have you made any attempt to move your investments from Gunn to another firm?”
“Not yet.”
“I think it would be good if you moved those assets to another entity, say, your bank, for the time being. You should talk to your banker before you call the Gunn firm. Who is your account manager there?”
“Jack Gunn.”
“You’ll have to talk to his number two, then.”
“That would be Peter Collins. I’ve dealt with him a couple of times.”
Freeman called his banker, talked for a moment, then hung up. “All Gunn’s accounts are temporarily frozen,” he said to Stone. “No transferring any funds into or out of accounts, and no trading.”
“That may be a good thing,” Stone said.
Freeman’s secretary knocked and came into the room. “You should turn on your TV to CNBC,” she said.
Freeman switched on a large flat-screen TV hanging on the wall on the other side of his office. A reporter stood outside the building where Jack Gunn’s offices were located. In the background officers in body armor were moving into the building and there was yellow police boundary tape everywhere.
“The latest word is that somebody has shot several people in the offices of Jack Gunn, the investment banker who was taken to the U.S. Attorney’s office earlier this morning for questioning,” the reporter was saying. “We have not been told who the shooter is, how many people he has shot, or whether there are any fatalities, and it may be some time before we know any of that.”
Stone looked past the reporter, and his eyes widened. He saw Herbie Fisher leaving the building with his arm around his new wife. “That’s my client,” he said, pointing. He got his cell phone out and speed-dialed Herbie’s phone.
“Hello?” Herbie said breathlessly.
“Herbie, it’s Stone Barrington. I’ve just seen you come out of Gunn’s building on TV. What’s going on up there?”
“This guy who sits next to Jack’s office has shot a couple of people; I don’t think anybody is dead. We were down the hall in Stephanie’s office when the shooting started, and we got the hell out of there.”
“Who is the guy doing the shooting?” Stone asked.
“His name is Peter Collins,” Herbie replied. “I just met him this morning. We were supposed to talk to him about moving my money over to the firm.”
“Did you do that?”
“No, we didn’t have time.”
“That’s good. Get Stephanie to your apartment and call me when you’re there.”
“Okay, Stone.” Herbie hung up.
So did Stone. “The guy doing the shooting is Peter Collins,” he said to Mike Freeman. “I don’t think he’s going to be taking any calls this morning, except maybe from a police hostage negotiator.”
“Oh, swell,” Freeman said. He picked up his phone. “Sally, put that conference call through,” he said. “Stone, I may as well let them all know what’s happening, or what we know of it.”
“I suppose so,” Stone said.
The call was put through, and Freeman brought his colleagues up to date, then told them he’d get back to them when he had more information. He hung up.
“I guess there’s nothing else we can do except wait for more information,” he said to Stone.
“I guess not,” Stone replied.
SIX
Stone got back to his office a little after five and went through the messages Joan had put on his desk before she left for the day. Dino had called and so, to his astonishment, had Peter Collins of Jack Gunn Investments.
Stone didn’t know Peter Collins. Just for the hell of it he dialed the number. It rang seven times before it was picked up.
“Hello?” a hoarse male voice said.
“This is Stone Barrington. I’m returning Peter Collins’s call. Who is this?”
“This is Peter Collins.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Collins?”
“I need an attorney to represent me in a multiple-count criminal action,” Collins said.
“Are you still holding hostages there, Mr. Collins?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
“What are their names?”
Collins told him, and Stone wrote them down.
“How many are injured?”
“Just one. I accidentally shot him in the leg while herding everybody into my office.”
“Where in the leg?”
“Left, outside thigh.”
“So you missed the femoral artery?”
“Yes. He’s been given first aid and is alert and talking.”
“Good. Mr. Collins, I can’t represent you in the criminal action because I’m corporate counsel to one of your clients, Strategic Services.”
“I didn’t know that,” Collins said.
“I was appointed only yesterday. What I can do for you is represent you in your talks with the police hostage negotiator and make sure you’re dealt with nonviolently and that your rights are not violated. Then I can recommend an attorney to represent you in your legal difficulties. I assume that these multiple charges are related to your work and the taking of the four hostages. Is that correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“All right. Are you willing to give yourself up?”
&nb
sp; “Yes, but I have conditions.”
“What are they?”
“One: that nobody shoots me. Two: that I’m not led out of the building handcuffed, and that I leave the building through the garage, sitting in the right front seat of a police car. Three: that the wounded hostage is taken out of the building first, on a stretcher. Four: that no one asks me any questions until I’ve spoken in person with an attorney.”
“Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Mr. Collins.”
“Please call me Peter; I’m more comfortable with that.”
“Peter, I’m Stone. Can you remain near this phone?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll call you back in less than half an hour. If anything happens in the meantime that worries you, you can call me back on the same number you called before.”
“All right.”
“Just be calm, and don’t talk to the police or anyone else until I call you back.”
“All right. You can hang up now.”
“Thanks.” Stone hung up and called Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“It’s Stone.”
“Dinner tonight?”
“I think so, but first I have to get you to patch me through to the hostage negotiator who’s handling the thing at Jack Gunn Investments.”
“Why?”
“Because the guy who’s holding the hostages called me and asked me to represent him in the negotiations.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I am kidding you not.”
“Hang on.” Dino put him on hold for about a minute, then came back. “All right, he’s on the line. His name is Hank Willard, Lieutenant.”
“Hello, Hank?”
“Yes, Stone. Dino has told me who you are. What can you tell me?”
“Peter Collins wants to give himself up. He has conditions, but I don’t think you’re going to have a problem with them.”
“What are they?”
Stone read from his notes.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. How are you going to handle it?”
“You have any suggestions?”
“Yes. First I’d send a stretcher and a couple of unarmed EMTs who are not cops up there and take the wounded man away. By the way, Collins says the wounding was an accident, completely non-intentional.”
“I can do that.”
“Then I think you should allow Collins to leave his gun in a desk drawer, lock it, and take an elevator down to the garage without a sniper taking him out.”
“Okay, done.”
“Remember, no cuffs. It’s my guess that Collins wants to leave this way so that he won’t be seen on television doing the perp walk.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“If you treat the guy respectfully, then I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with him. You need to brief the other officers in the car on that. In fact, I suggest that you meet Collins alone when he gets off the elevator, and that you put him in the front seat and get into the back. When you get him to the station, walk him in without cuffs and put him into an interrogation room and give him something to eat and drink while he waits for his lawyer.”
“Okay.”
“I am of the impression that he wants to talk to you, but only with an attorney present.”
“Who’s his attorney?”
“I have to make a couple more calls before I can tell you that.”
“Okay.”
“Wait for me to call you back before you send the EMTs upstairs. Collins says the guy is stable and not bleeding.”
“I’ll give you half an hour, Stone, no more.”
“Done. Where are you taking him?”
“The Seventeenth Precinct, on East Fifty-first Street.”
Stone hung up and called Peter Collins back.
“Hello?”
“It’s Stone. The police are willing to meet all your conditions. The hostage negotiator, Lieutenant Hank Willard, is going to escort you to the police station, and you won’t be seen on TV as a criminal. I suggest you make yourself presentable, suit and tie.”
“All right. When do we start?”
“I have to get your attorney lined up, then I’ll call you back.”
“All right.”
Stone hung up and opened his address book to the page of lawyers’ numbers he kept handy. It took him only a moment to settle on Milton Levine. Levine was short, bespectacled, and balding, and he did not look like a corporate legal eagle. He dialed his direct number.
“Who is this; tell me fast.”
“It’s Stone Barrington, Milt. Shut up and listen.”
“I’m listening; talk.”
“You know about the hostage situation in that Park Avenue office building?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d like you to represent the hostage holder, whose name is Peter Collins.” Stone gave him the rundown on Collins’s demands and Hank Willard’s acceptance of them.
“So you’ve done everything. What’s left for me?”
“Get your ass over to the Seventeenth Precinct on East Fifty-first, listen to the man and represent him. You’ll know better than I how to handle it.”
“When?”
“Right now.”
“Shit. I had a hot date for drinks.”
“This shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours; push it back to dinner.”
“Good thinking. Bye.” Levine hung up.
Stone called Peter Collins.
“Hello?”
“Everything okay there?”
“Yes.”
“Your attorney’s name is Milton Levine. Call him Milt. He doesn’t look the part but he’s as smart as they come, and he’ll do good by you. He’s going to meet you at the police station.”
“All right.”
“Now, we’re going to set this in motion. First, the EMTs will come and take the injured man away. Then you lock your gun in your desk or your safe and take the elevator to the garage. Hank Willard will meet you there and escort you to the station. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Remember, as soon as the EMTs have taken the wounded man away, you lock up the gun and leave. The police will come after you’ve gone and take the hostages out.”
“Thank you, Stone. I’m grateful for your help.”
“Good luck, Peter.”
Stone hung up and called Hank Willard. “We’re on,” he said. “Collins’s attorney is Milton Levine. Go.”
“We’re going,” Willard said. “Thanks for your help.” He hung up.
Stone hung up and breathed a sigh of relief.
SEVEN
Stone met Dino at Elaine’s. They were on their first drink when Bill Eggers walked in, sat down, and ordered a single-malt scotch.
Stone was surprised to see him. “What’re you doing here, Bill?” he asked.
“I’m not here,” Eggers said, taking a tug at his drink.
“Okay, how did the meeting go that you didn’t have this afternoon with Jack Gunn and Leighton Craft?”
“It went well,” Eggers said. “Gunn maintains his innocence and says that Peter Collins is the probable culprit.”
“I spoke to Peter Collins this afternoon, and he maintains his innocence, too.”
Eggers stared at him. “You spoke to Peter Collins?”
Stone explained his conversations with Collins and the hostage negotiator.
“And everything went according to plan?”
“As far as I know. Dino, what have you heard?”
“I was about to tell you,” Dino said. “They got everybody cleared out and took Collins to the One Seven.”
“Nobody got hurt?”
“Nobody. Hank Willard stuck to the agreement. The guy who got shot was treated and released; it wasn’t a bad wound.”
“Who did you get to represent Peter Collins?” Eggers asked.
“Milt Levine.”
“Good
call,” Eggers said. “He’s probably one of the few guys around who isn’t representing somebody who’s involved in this thing as a victim.”
“He’ll do a good job,” Stone said.
“Did Collins lay the blame on anybody?”
“Not to me,” Stone replied. “Who are the candidates?”
“Just Gunn and Collins, as far as I know,” Eggers said.
“What were your impressions of Jack Gunn at your meeting?” Stone asked.
Eggers shrugged. “Angry, but in control. He says that Collins is the only guy in the firm who could have pulled this off without his knowledge.”
Stone’s cell phone vibrated; he looked at the screen and saw Milt Levine’s name. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Milt Levine.”
“How’d it go?”
“I met with Collins at the One Seven, then he answered every question the police put to him. I bought what he had to say.”
“What was the disposition?”
“He’ll be arraigned for the shooting and hostage-taking tomorrow morning, and I’ll get him bailed out. He hasn’t been charged with taking any money.”
“Who does Collins think is responsible?”
“He says it’s got to be Gunn, possibly with the help of his son.”
Stone blinked. “What son?”
“Name of David.”
“Hang on,” Stone said. He covered the phone and turned to Eggers. “Are you aware that Gunn has a son?”
Eggers frowned. “There was no mention of a son at our meeting.”
Stone went back to the phone. “David comes as a surprise to everybody I know,” he said.
“Well, he’s going to get talked to,” Levine said. “I gotta go.”
“You still got the hot date?”
“You bet your ass.” Levine hung up.
Stone put his phone away. “I don’t get it about the son,” he said to Eggers. “I was at Gunn’s daughter’s wedding last night. I sat at the family table and there was no son there and no mention of one.”
“It’s a mystery,” Eggers said.
Stone got back on his phone and called Herbie Fisher.
“Hello?”
“Herbie, it’s Stone. How are you?”
“I’m okay,” Herbie replied. “Stephanie is pretty upset. She talked to her mother, and she’s pretty upset, too. Jack got home in time for dinner, and he’s also pretty upset.”