Stuart Woods: Hot Pursuit

“Good idea.” Stone wrinkled his brow. “What’s your sister’s name?”

“Greta Frank.”

“The Greta Frank who was recently acquitted of murdering her husband?”

“Her first husband.”

“I followed the trial in the media.”

“She was completely innocent, of course.”

“Of course. And she was lucky enough to have a very smart attorney.”

“Yes, Herbert Fisher. Do you know him?”

“He’s a partner in my law firm, and was a protégé of mine.”

“Then I suppose Greta has you to thank, as well.”

“In a roundabout way, I guess. She didn’t lose any time remarrying, did she?”

“Nope. I think they were an item before her husband’s untimely death.”

“Whom did she marry?”

“Larry Goren, a hedge-fund zillionaire.”

“Her late husband was also one of those, wasn’t he?”

“Greta has always been attracted to money.”

Fred appeared in the doorway. “The car is out front, Mr. Barrington.”

They both polished off their drinks and left the house.

They beat Dino and Viv to Patroon and ordered another drink. A jazz group was playing, a new wrinkle of which Stone approved.

Mike Freeman ambled over. “Good evening.”

“Hi, Mike,” Stone replied. “Pat, this is Mike Freeman, an old friend and business associate. Join us, Mike.”

“I’m stag tonight. Sure you don’t mind?”

“Not in the least.”

Mike signaled to Ken Aretzky, the owner, that he was joining Stone, then sat down and ordered a drink.

“Dino and Viv will be here soon,” Stone said, looking at his watch. “I think.”

“I thought you were in Wichita,” Mike said, “and yet here you are with a beautiful woman.”

“She’s not a woman, she’s a pilot,” Stone said. “Pat did the acceptance for me at the factory, and the insurance company okayed her to do the first flight with me. We just got in this afternoon.”

“How’s the new Citation M2?”

“Wonderful. It’s already parked in your hangar. Pat, Mike is the head of Strategic Services, a large security company, and they own a hangar at Teterboro.”

“How convenient,” Pat said.

“Pat is starting a new business, running the flight department for owner-operators, like me.”

“Good idea.”

“I’m her first client. I had to fire her to get her to have dinner with me.”

“What’s your business called?” Mike asked.

“The Pat Frank Flight Department.”

“Catchy.”

“I thought so, too.”

Dino and Viv finally arrived, and introductions were made. They had just ordered drinks when another man approached the table. Dino introduced everybody to Everett Salton, who was the junior senator for the state of New York. Stone had never met him but was usually impressed with what he heard about the man in the news.

“Will you join us, Ev?” Dino asked.

“Thank you, but the senior senator and I are having dinner, as if we don’t see enough of each other. Another time, I hope.” The senator said good night and wended his way to his table.

“Good guy,” Dino said. “I think.”

“You think?” Stone asked. “Don’t you know?”

“He’s a politician — you can never really know a guy like that, you just know what he’s for and against, issue by issue, and sometimes even that changes with the wind.”

“You know, since becoming commissioner, you’ve also become a cynic.”

“I’m a realist, that’s all. You, however, are a pushover for anybody who’s nice to you.”

“Nonsense.”

“Name somebody who’s nice to you that you don’t like.”

Stone thought about that for a moment. “Well...”

“A pushover, like I said.”

“I think that’s a good personal trait,” Pat said.

“Do you like Pat?” Dino asked.

“Of course, she’s nice to me.”

They were back at Stone’s house by eleven, and he kissed her good night at her bedroom door. “I don’t suppose you need tucking in?”

“I can handle it, thanks.”

“Do you have an early start tomorrow?”

“Not so early. The movers are supposed to show up at noon.”

“Then wander down the hall around seven and have breakfast with me.”

“Sounds good.”

“What would you like?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“See you at seven.” He kissed her again and went to the master suite, undressed, and left a message about breakfast for Helene, his housekeeper. He turned on the news, but there was nothing much new since the early-morning shows, and he fell asleep quickly.

He was awakened by a soft hand on his cheek and a light kiss on the lips.

“Good morning,” she said. “I’m early.”

“How early?”

“Half an hour.”

“Then join me,” he said, reaching over and turning down the covers on the other side of the bed.

She shed her robe, giving him a glimpse of a curvaceous body, and pulled the covers up over her breasts. “I don’t think I’ve ever started a day like this without an intimate evening before.”

“Best time of day,” Stone said, raising an arm and offering her a shoulder. She moved over and nestled against him. Things moved quickly along, and they were resting in each other’s arms when a chime rang. “That’s the dumbwaiter,” Stone said. He got out of bed, opened the door, and removed a large tray, setting it on the bed.

“Wow,” Pat said. “That’s what I call room service.”

“Helene is always punctual.”

Stone switched on the morning shows and saw an interview with the two senators on the sidewalk outside Patroon.

“Salton is pretty slick,” Pat said.

“He is, isn’t he?”

“You didn’t know him before last night?”

“Only from television.”

“He seemed to know who you were.”

“I didn’t notice that, and there’s no reason why he should.”

“But he knew Dino.”

“Dino’s the police commissioner.”

“You have a point,” she said. “Still...”

Stone’s bedside phone rang, a rare event at this hour. Stone picked it up. “Hello?”

“This is Ev Salton. I hope I haven’t called too early.”

“Not at all, Senator.”

“Will you have lunch with me today?” He didn’t ask if Stone already had a date.

“Yes,” Stone said.

Salton gave him an address. “Just ring the bell,” he said. “Twelve-thirty?”

“That’s fine.”

“Good morning to you, then.”

“Good morning.” They both hung up.

“That was Senator Salton,” Stone said.

“I told you he knew who you were,” Pat replied.

Stone arrived at the address, a double-width town house in the East Sixties, and rang the bell. He noticed a security camera high and to his left. Almost immediately a man in a black suit and green tie opened the door. “Your name, please?”

“Barrington.”

“Please come in, Mr. Barrington, and follow me.” The man took his overcoat, then led him to an elevator, and Stone was ushered in. “Press five,” the man said.

Stone pressed five, the doors closed, and when they opened, Senator Everett Salton stood waiting in a small foyer. He shook Stone’s hand.

“Good to see you, Stone.”

“And you,” Stone replied.

“This way.”

Stone followed him to one of several doors opening off the foyer, and into a sort of sitting room with a table set for two.

Salton indicated where Stone should sit. “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve ordered for us — saves time.”

“That’s fine,” Stone said, taking a seat. His place was set with elegant china and crystal and a huge, starched Irish linen napkin.