Stuart Woods: Son of Stone

“He took in every word of Leo’s briefing, too, and asked good questions that neither you nor I thought of.”

“Embarrassing, wasn’t it?” They both laughed, then said good-bye and departed in opposite directions.

Stone and Peter strolled down Fifth Avenue together through the throngs of shoppers. They passed the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Plaza.

“That’s nice,” Peter said. “I’ve seen it on TV.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I hope I didn’t speak out of turn at the meeting,” Peter said.

“Not at all, Peter. Mike and I were impressed with your understanding of what Leo was saying. We both completely missed the budget increases, which I’m sure is what Leo intended.”

Peter laughed aloud. “I’ll bet he did, too.”

“What grade are you in now?”

“Well,” Peter said, “that’s kind of problematical.”

“Oh? You aren’t about to get booted out, are you?”

“Oh, no!” Peter said, looking shocked.

“Only joking,” Stone said.

Peter looked relieved. “It’s just that I’ve been on sort of a special program of courses,” he said. “And it looks like I’ll be graduating in June.”

Stone blinked. “At fifteen?”

“I’ll be sixteen. I know it’s unusual, but the school said they thought the accelerated program was the best way to keep me interested.”

“Were they right?”

“Oh, yes; it’s been great!”

Stone wondered how he was going to keep this kid interested for two weeks.

When they arrived back at the house Stone took Peter in through the office entrance and introduced him to Joan.

“I’m very glad to meet you, Peter,” she said. “Funny, I was expecting someone younger.” She shot a glance at Stone, who rolled his eyes.

“Stone, your client Herbert Fisher is waiting to see you,” she said.

Stone sighed. “Come on, Peter,” he said. “I’ll introduce you to a New York character.” He led the way to his office.

S tone introduced Peter to Herbie Fisher. “Peter, I have some business to discuss with Herbie. Why don’t you go upstairs and get unpacked? We’ll leave for dinner at eight-fifteen.”

“All right,” Peter said, and ran up the stairs.

Stone turned and looked at Herbie. “What’s going on, Herbie?” he asked. “You look kind of soggy.”

“That’s because I went for a swim in New York Harbor.”

“In December?”

“It wasn’t exactly my choice.”

Stone went into the little bathroom off his office, got a towel, returned and handed it to Herbie. “Have a seat and tell me about it.”

Herbie took off his sodden overcoat, draped it over a chair, and sat down, running the towel over his hair. “Well, I went on a singles lunchtime cruise,” he said.

“They do cruises in December?”

“Singles don’t care if it’s cold; it’s warm inside the yacht.”

“Yacht?”

“These are expensive cruises. They use a seventy-foot yacht, and they serve a good lunch and wine. It’s two hundred fifty a head.”

“Sounds profitable. Any likely women?”

“Yes, a number.”

“So why did you decide to get off before the yacht reached the dock?”

“There was an altercation,” Herbie said.

“What started it?”

“There were these two guys, dressed well, but kind of beefy. They had knives.”

“For this they charge two-fifty a head?” Stone asked.

“I don’t know what they were doing there. Well, no, that’s wrong; I have a very good idea what they were doing there.”

“Which was?”

“Stephanie.”

Stephanie was Herbie’s sort of ex-wife. She and her brother had, according to news reports, stolen nearly a billion dollars from their father’s asset management firm and skipped to a Pacific island nation with no extradition treaty.

“She sent me some divorce papers a couple of times, but I just threw them away,” Herbie said.

“Never a good idea to throw away legal documents,” Stone pointed out. “Then what?”

“I was standing near the rear of the yacht’s saloon, talking to a girl, and these two guys appeared and said they needed to talk to me. They shoved me out on the afterdeck, and one of them said, ‘You should have signed the papers.’ Then both of them produced switchblades.”

“And how did you handle that?” Stone asked, fascinated now.

“I thought about it for about a nanosecond,” Herbie said, “and then I decided that there was no way to handle it that didn’t involve a lot of spilled blood, and it was my blood in question, so I ran for the rail. I jumped on a rear cockpit seat running, then just took a long leap.”

“And where was the yacht at this time?”

“Out near the Statue of Liberty,” Herbie replied.

“I suppose the two guys didn’t follow you into the water?”

“No, it was really, really cold. I made for Lady Liberty.”

“Wearing an overcoat?”

“I thought it would get even colder if I took it off. I swam like hell, and I was beginning to get pretty tired when my feet touched bottom. I waded the rest of the way. There was a dock with a ladder, so I climbed up that. I found a men’s room and turned on the heated hand-dryer thing, you know?”

“Yes, I’ve met many of them.”

“I dried my clothes a little and got warm, then I went back outside and mingled with the tourists, who were boarding the ferry for the return trip. Nobody asked me for a ticket.”

“I guess they’re unaccustomed to selling tickets to patrons who arrived at the statue under their own steam.”

“Yeah. When I got ashore I took a cab here.”

“Why, Herbie? What would you like me to do?”

“I would like to be divorced,” Herbie replied. “Will you handle that for me?”

Herbie had won the lottery a couple of years before, and he had paid Stone a million-dollar retainer to handle all his legal affairs, and not a few of his personal problems.

“Of course,” Stone said. “Maybe the best way to start would be to send me the papers Stephanie asked you to sign. Do you still have them?”

“Yeah, they’re somewhere in my apartment.”

“Well, grab a cab, go home, get out of those clothes, take a nice hot bath with a glass of brandy floating in it, and when the brandy is all gone, get out of the tub and fax me the papers.”

“That’s the best advice I’ve had all day,” Herbie said. With some difficulty he got into the sodden overcoat, and Stone walked him to the door.

“And, Herbie,” Stone said, “don’t let anybody you don’t know into your apartment. Tell the doorman to be on the lookout for strangers who want to see you, and don’t hesitate to call the police if the two guys show up.”

Herbie nodded and ran for a cab.

Stone stepped into Joan’s office. “Herbie just took a dip in New York Harbor,” he said.

“He told me.”

“How much of Herbie’s retainer is left?”

“About half a million dollars,” she said.

“I don’t suppose we can just write him a check.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“He’s faxing over some divorce papers from Stephanie.”

“I’ll bring them to you when they come.”

Stone nodded and went to his desk. He returned some phone calls, and then Joan buzzed him.

“Herbie’s on the phone,” she said. “I’ll bring in the papers.”

Stone picked up the phone. “The fax just arrived, Herbie.”

“I know, I just sent it.”

Stone took the papers from Joan. “Hang on while I take a quick look through them.” He did so. “Okay, they’re pretty standard. She wants you to admit to adultery and agree to a divorce.”

“Adultery? I didn’t do any adultery.”

“It doesn’t matter. New York is the last state with no-fault divorce; it has to be for cause, the usual choices being adultery, cruelty, or mental cruelty. There’s a move afoot in the state legislature to change that, but it hasn’t happened yet.”