Стюарт Вудс - Standup Guy

“That’s probably good advice. You think Buono is bluffing?” Stone asked again.

“It would be just like him,” Fratelli replied. “On the other hand . . .”

“Thanks for the advice, I think.”

Fratelli laughed. “Let me know how it comes out.” He hung up.

Stone called Dino and told him about the conversation.

“I’m looking in my road atlas at a map of Connecticut,” Dino said. “I see a very small lake near New Fairfield.”

“Maybe it’s worth a trip up there,” Stone said.

“I know the head of the Connecticut State Police. I’ll give him a call. Have you heard any more from Bats Buono?”

“No, but I just got back to the house.”

“If he calls, stall him.”

“Stall him how?”

“Tell him you just got back in town, and it’s going to take a couple of days to get ahold of the money. I know you’ve already made the arrangements, but don’t tell him that.”

“You know me too well.”

“It’s what I would do, if I had a few million available. On the other hand, like Fratelli says, you can just call his bluff.”

“I thought about it. I don’t think I can do that.”

“What about the laughing woman?”

“It could very well be another woman, not Hank.”

“Could be. Look, Hank knows you’re loaded, she might be looking to cash in.”

“I don’t read her that way.”

“I don’t either, but you never know.”

“Sometimes you do.”

“Think back to when you met her at P.J. Clarke’s.”

“Okay.”

“Who got there first? You or Hank?”

Stone thought about it. “I did.”

“Maybe Bats Buono is smarter than you think he is.”

“I doubt it.”

“How did Hank come to tell you about Buono?”

“It came up in a conversation we had at dinner. She said she had met him at Clarke’s, and he became obsessed, and she had to take out a protection order to get rid of him.”

“And when did Buono come to see you?”

“The next day.”

“I’ve got to make a couple of calls. I’ll get back to you when I know more. If Buono calls, stall him like we talked about.”

“Okay.” Stone hung up. Joan was standing in the doorway. “Your broker is on the phone. He wants to know how you want the cash.”

“Tell him I’ll call him back.”

• • •

Stone went through his mail, trying to keep his mind off Hank and Bats Buono. Less than an hour later, Dino called.

“I talked to Colonel Dan Sparks, head of the Connecticut State Police.”

“And?”

“And he’s going to send a SWAT team to New Fairfield. There’s a little grocery store—you and I can meet him there, it’s a couple of hours from your house.”

“Dino, we don’t know which cabin to hit. Fratelli said there are eight or ten.”

“Dan knows the guy who owns the property that the lake is on. He’s the one who built the cabins and sold them. By the time we get there, he should know which cabin.”

“You going to pick me up?”

“In half an hour. I’ll use the siren, if I have to.”

As Stone was hanging up, his cell phone vibrated. He let it ring three times before answering.

“Yes?”

“Have you got the money?” Buono asked.

“There’s a problem about that. You talked to Fratelli, so you know he hasn’t got it.”

“I don’t care if he’s got it,” Buono said. “Your money will do just fine.”

“Let me speak to Hank.”

“She’s in the ladies’.”

“Have her call me when she gets out.” Stone hung up.

Five minutes later, she called. “Stone? Are you going to help me?”

“Yes,” he said. “Is there another woman there?”

But Buono had taken the phone from her. “Are we clear now?”

“It’s going to take a couple of days to put together that kind of money. Unless you’ll take a check.”

Buono laughed heartily. “I’ll give you until noon the day after tomorrow. I’ll call you with instructions, and you’d better follow them to the letter.”

“I won’t give you a dime, unless Hank is at the meet, and healthy. And in my car. If she’s so much as bruised, I’ll take it out on you.”

“I’ll call you at noon, day after tomorrow.”

“Don’t call, unless Hank will be there.”

But Buono had hung up.

37

Dino was out front in his unmarked police SUV on time. Stone got into the car.

“Are you armed?” Dino asked.

“Damn straight, I’m armed,” Stone replied. The driver got moving.

Dino was silent until they got on the West Side Highway and headed north. “I did a search of the court records for the past five years,” he said.

“The court records? Why?”

“I was looking for a protection order filed by Henrietta Cromwell against Onofrio Buono.”

“And?”

“There wasn’t one.”

“Shit.”

“My reaction exactly. Then there’s the matter of another woman up there, or rather, the lack of one. I don’t think you ought to give this guy any money, Stone.”

“That’s hard,” Stone said.

“I know, but if she’s in cahoots with him, there’s a chance you could make things worse for her.”

“Worse? How?”

“Suppose Buono wants all the money?”

Stone sighed. His cell phone went off.

“Yes?”

“It’s Joan. I’ve got your broker on the line, and he insists on talking to you.”

“All right, put him on.”

“Stone?”

“Yes, Jim?”

“Do you want this cash?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You’ve got enough stocks that are losing or static that we can sell without paying a capital gains tax.”

“Sell them.”

“How do you want the money?”

“In tens and twenties—nothing bigger.”

“That’s going to be very bulky.”

“I know. Send your secretary out to get some leaf bags.”

“What are leaf bags?”

“Great big, heavy-duty garbage bags. Put the cash in one of those, and I want the bills loose, not banded. Mix ’em up.”

“All right. When do you want to pick up the bag?”

“Send it over to my office tomorrow morning. Joan will sign for it.”

“I’ll have to bill you for the armored car.”

“Come on, Jim, take a cab.”

“I’m not getting into a cab with five million dollars in a leaf bag.”

“Tell you what: I’ll get someone from Strategic Services to pick up the money at your office.”

“No, at the bank downstairs. Ask for the manager, Mr. Crockwell.”

“Tell him to give it to someone with Strategic Services ID. Call Mike Freeman over there and tell him when it’s ready.”

“All right, Stone. Whenever this—whatever it is—is over, let’s have a drink and you can tell me what the hell was going on.”

“Deal, but you’re buying.” Stone hung up and called Mike Freeman.

“Welcome home, Stone. You are home, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been home, now I’m on the way to Connecticut.”

“Okay.”

“Mike, I need the services of Strategic Services.”

“What can I do?”

“Tomorrow morning, you’ll get a call from my broker, telling you that the money is ready. Please send some people over to my bank. Ask for Mr. Crockwell. Your men will show Strategic Services ID, and Crockwell will give them five million dollars in tens and twenties, in a leaf bag.”

“All right, Stone, I’m baffled. What’s going on?”

“I may have to pay a ransom to someone.”

“In tens and twenties?”

“It may be to my advantage, if he has to count it.”

“Do you want me to pay it to somebody?”

“Just hang on to it until I call you back and give you instructions on where to deliver it.”