"Strategic moves" - читать интересную книгу автора (Woods Stuart)

EIGHT

Stone was at his desk the following morning when Joan came into his office. "Good morning," he said.

"And to you," she replied. "Before you got in this morning Mike Freeman called and said he'd like you to attend a meeting in his office this morning at eleven."

Stone glanced at his watch. "Plenty of time. What kind of meeting?"

"He didn't say, but he did say it was important. You should be there a little early, he said."

"Okay," Stone replied.

There was a rap on his door, and Herbie Fisher walked in. "You got a minute, Stone?"

"Just about that," Stone replied, trying not to groan.

Joan sauntered out. "You two have fun," she said.

"What's up, Herbie?" Stone asked. "I thought you were going on your honeymoon."

"Stephanie thought it would be unseemly to go," he said. "That's the word she used: 'unseemly.' "

"I guess she has a point," Stone said.

"Yeah. I'm worried about what all this stuff is going to do to my reputation," Herbie said.

Stone looked at him askance. "Reputation?"

"Yeah, my reputation."

"Herbie, I don't think your bookie is going to worry about your reputation, as long as you pay your losses. Who else would give your reputation a thought?"

"You know, people."

"What people?"

"People who know the Gunns, who know Stephanie."

"Herbie, you don't work for Gunn, and neither does your wife, yet."

"Well, you know: lie down with dogs, get up with fleas."

"You're worried about getting fleas?"

"Yeah, on my reputation, as it were."

"As it were? Where did you pick up that little phrase, Herbie? Have you been hanging out at the New Yorker?"

"The New Yorker?"

"Maybe in the cartoon department?"

"I don't get it, Stone."

"Neither do I, Herbie. Any more news from David Gunn?"

"Stephanie talked to him at breakfast time. He called."

"Where did he call from?"

"He wouldn't tell her. She told him he'd better get his ass back here to help out with this."

"And how did he reply to that request?"

"He said he'd think about it. She's really pissed off at him."

"I'm not surprised. Have you had any dealings with David?"

Herbie shrugged. "Not much. I did recommend him to my bookie."

"Swell," Stone said. "The bookie who wanted to murder you?"

"We got past that," Herbie said.

"Is David big into the ponies?" Stone asked.

"More like sports betting."

This was not good, Stone thought. "Does he lose a lot?"

"He says he wins; says he's got a system."

"A system? That means he loses. Does his being in the islands have anything to do with your mutual bookie?"

"Come to think of it, I did get a call from him asking about David, but of course I couldn't tell him anything because I didn't know anything."

"That is certainly grounds for keeping your mouth shut," Stone said. "Well, you have your reputation to think about. If I were you, I'd distance myself from David," he advised.

"He's already in the islands," Herbie pointed out. "Isn't that far enough?"

"I was speaking metaphorically, not geographically."

"Huh?"

Stone looked at his watch. "Never mind. I have to go to a meeting. Was there something in particular you wanted to see me about?"

Herbie scratched his head. "Yeah, but I can't remember what it was."

Stone got into his coat. "It'll have to wait."

"Oh, I remember: the accountants said it wasn't Peter Collins that stole the money."

Stone stared at Herbie. "Already? Who did they say it was?"

"David."

"How much did David steal?" Stone asked.

"A little over a million dollars," Herbie replied.

"Well, that doesn't sound so bad. I'm sure Jack Gunn can write a check for that."

"No, I'm sorry, it was a little over a billion."

Stone's jaw dropped. "Well, those three little zeros make a difference, don't they?"

"I guess."

"Gotta run, Herbie," Stone said, making for the door.

Stone had trouble getting a cab, and traffic was bad, so he was five minutes late arriving at Mike Freeman's office. The secretary told him to go in, and when he did he found Mike talking with someone Stone knew.

"Come in, Stone," Freeman said. "I'd like you to meet Lance Cabot."

"We've met," Lance said drily. Lance was the deputy director of intelligence for operations at the Central Intelligence Agency.

"How are you, Lance?" Stone asked, shaking his hand. He was tempted to check his wallet.

"Very well, Stone," Lance replied, sitting back down. "I'm surprised to run into you at Strategic Services."

"That makes two of us," Stone said, taking a seat.

"How do you two know each other?" Freeman asked.

Stone started to reply, but Lance beat him to it. "We've had dealings in the past," he said casually.

"Mike," Stone said, "this is a business meeting, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Well, I'm afraid I have to declare an interest."

"That won't be necessary," Lance said.

Stone ignored him. "Some time ago I signed a consultant's agreement with Lance's employer, and I've done some odd jobs for him."

Lance reddened slightly. "I don't think it's necessary to-"

"Lance, perhaps you'd better release me from that agreement if I'm going to represent Strategic Services in its dealings with you. Is that what you have in mind, Mike?"

"Yes, it is," Freeman replied.

"Well, Lance, do you release me from our agreement?"

Lance's look could have burned a hole through cardboard. "Yes, I release you-but only for the purposes of business associated with Strategic Services."

"I guess that's good enough for me," Freeman said.

It wasn't good enough for Stone, but he didn't want to make anything more of it. He had the feeling that this was going to come back and bite him in the ass.