Стюарт Вудс - Standup Guy

“No, yesterday when I was rummaging with my chin in my desk drawers, I found the key to the wine cellar.” He opened a drawer and held it up. “So at least it will be out of sight and under lock and key.”

The phone rang, and Joan picked it up. “Woodman & Weld, Stone Barrington’s office.” She listened for a moment. “Please hold. It’s somebody named Jack Coulter,” she said. “He wants to come with his wife to see you tomorrow about legal representation. He says Eduardo sent them.”

Stone laughed. “Eduardo again?”

Joan laughed, too. “No, this time it’s Eduardo Bianci.”

“Make the appointment for late morning.”

Joan pressed the button. “Mr. Barrington can meet with you at eleven AM, if that’s convenient. Fine, let me give you the address. Then we’ll see you and Mrs. Coulter at eleven.” She hung up.

“Who are Mr. and Mrs. Jack Coulter?” Stone asked.

“I don’t know, but his voice sounded oddly familiar. I don’t know of anyone by that name, though.”

Stone rolled first one suitcase, then the other into the wine cellar and locked the door.

“It smells not so hot in here,” Joan said.

“Yes. Please get Helene and Fred in here first thing in the morning to clean the carpet around the sofa. There was a little accident yesterday.”

Joan pressed the VOICE MAIL button on the phone. “Stone, it’s Kate Lee. I haven’t heard from you, but we’re changing our dinner to Monday evening at seven, if you’re available. Call me on the cell number.”

“Was that the first lady?”

“Yes. I didn’t have the opportunity to call her back.” He did so and got her voice mail. “Kate, I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you sooner, but I was . . . tied up. I’d love to see you this evening at seven.” He hung up.

“You look tired,” Joan said.

“Yes, that’s why I’m going to go upstairs to bed. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, and counting bags of money is tiring.”

“See you tomorrow, then. Don’t oversleep and forget your dinner.”

Stone took the elevator; he was too tired to walk up the stairs.

60

Stone slept through the afternoon. He woke around six PM and reflected on the past few days and weeks. Three people were dead, one of them someone he had grown fond of, before she had betrayed him for money. Still, she had saved his life, after endangering it, so he couldn’t feel too badly toward her.

He struggled out of bed and got into the shower and shaved, then got a cab to the Carlyle.

Special Agent Griggs of the Secret Service met him at the elevator when he reached the Lees’ floor.

“Welcome back, Agent Griggs,” Stone said.

“Thank you, Mr. Barrington,” Griggs said. “I was reassigned last week, this time for the duration. By the way, while I was serving in Florida, we came across some more of those old hundred-dollar-bills my partner and I visited you about.”

“Any resolution of the case?” Stone asked.

“I’m afraid not. I did some looking around, but I just told my boss that it was a waste of our time, and he agreed.”

“I’m glad it’s off your mind,” Stone said.

“The president and Mrs. Lee are expecting you,” Griggs said, then walked him down the hallway to the door, motioning for another agent to step aside. Griggs rang the bell. “Good to see you, Mr. Barrington.”

“And you, Agent Griggs.”

Kate opened the door and pulled him inside. She gave him a big hug. “Exciting news,” she said. “We’d like to tell you together.” She took his hand and pulled him into the living room, where Will Lee already had a glass in his hand. He stood up to greet Stone with a warm handshake.

“The usual?” Kate asked.

“Please.”

She handed him the drink, and they all sat down. “The others will be here in a little while,” Will said, “but we wanted to see you first.”

“Oh?”

“First, there’s this.” He picked up a white envelope and handed it to Stone.

“What’s this?”

“Read it, then forget about it. I have.”

Stone opened the envelope and extracted a heavy sheet of paper. Across the top were emblazoned the words PRESIDENTIAL PARDON. And under that was printed the name THEODORE THOMAS FAY.

“The pardon is sealed, as you suggested,” Will said. “It will not be released to the press. And I have seen that his name has been removed from every law enforcement and intelligence database.”

“Thank you, Mr. President. I’m very grateful to you.”

“And we are very grateful to you, Stone, for your friendship and good advice over the years. Now, I will trust you to see that the document is delivered into the right hands at an early date, and we’ll say no more about it, ever.”

“Now, our other news,” Kate said. “I have decided to run now, not later, for the Democratic nomination for president, and we’re making the announcement tomorrow. The others of the Group of Twenty-one will be joining us for dinner shortly.”

“What changed your mind about the timing?” Stone asked.

“A reporter for the Washington Bureau of the New York Times got somebody—who cares who?—to talk. Confronted with the impending publishing of the story, Will and I talked it over and decided to go now, even if we have missed some primaries.”

“This is going to be very exciting,” Stone said. “I congratulate you, and I promise you my vote and as many more as I can muster up for you.”

“We’ll be handing out other envelopes for everybody after dinner, outlining my positions on just about every issue in detail. If you have time to read them, they will give you much ammunition for mustering those votes and, especially, for fund-raising.”

“I’ll start phoning my unsuspecting friends tomorrow,” Stone said.

The doorbell rang again, and people began to file into the penthouse apartment. The Lees and Stone joined them, and Stone folded the envelope and put it into an inside pocket.

61

Stone was at his desk at ten AM, and his first call was to Mike Freeman.

“Good morning, Mike.”

“Good morning, Stone. Good weekend?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but now I’d like to make one more attempt to make a bank deposit.”

“I’ll send my people immediately.”

“I’d be grateful if you’d come with them, if you’re free. I have something to pass privately to you.”

“I can manage that. Half an hour?”

“Perfect.” Stone hung up and buzzed Joan. “Now, please get me Eduardo Bianci.”

Peter, Eduardo’s butler, took the call, ascertained that Stone was Stone, then put the call through.

“Good morning, Stone.”

“Good morning, Eduardo. I hope you are well.”

“Better than I have any right to be,” the old man replied.

“I understand you have sent me a new client.”

“That is so. Hillary is the widow of my good friend Thomas Foote, and she has told me that she is uncomfortable with being represented by the firm that handled Tom’s affairs. Naturally, I thought of you and Woodman & Weld. I think your experience in handling your own late wife’s estate will stand you in good stead with Hillary’s case.”

“As always, I’m grateful for your good thoughts, Eduardo.”

“I hope that when you meet with her you’ll like her—and her new husband, Jack Coulter, who I found to be bright and very good company at dinner last evening. I believe Jack’s intentions are only for his wife’s welfare. He seems to wish nothing of hers for himself.”

“He sounds like a good fellow. I’m seeing them in just a few minutes, so perhaps I’d better go.”

“May I call you for dinner one night soon?”

“Of course. By the way, Kate Lee will be speaking to the press on television today. I think you would find it interesting to watch. We can talk more about that when we meet.”