Stuart Woods - Naked Greed

The detective produced a set of lock picks, and two minutes later they were inside.

“Hey, nice place,” the Jersey cop said.

“Better than I had thought,” the NYPD cop replied.

They had a look around. The furniture was handsome, the prints on the wall were nice, and the clothes were neatly put away in the closet/dressing room.

“What have we here?” the Jersey cop asked, pointing into the closet.

“I’d say that’s a thousand-dollar safe,” the NYPD cop replied.

“I guess you want to look in there, too, huh?”

“I’d love to know what’s in there, but I’m no yegg. Anybody here can open that safe without dynamite?”

All heads were shaken.

He looked through all the clothes. “There’s nothing in this place that even identifies the occupant,” the NYPD cop said. “We may as well get the fuck out of here.”

“Great minds think alike,” the Jersey cop said. “You guys let us know when you know what you’re doing, and we’ll come back for another, hopefully more fruitful, visit.”

They locked up and left.

Ryan gave his car to the doorman at the Four Seasons, and somebody drove it away and did God-knows-what with it. He couldn’t see a garage. He checked in, got two key cards, and sent his bag up to his suite with a bellman and a fifty-dollar bill.

“Unpack for me, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” the young man said, and trotted away.

Ryan found the bar and settled into a booth. He waved the waiter away. “When my lady gets here.”

At the stroke of six o’clock, Sylvia Mays, if that was her name, strolled into the bar, towing a single bag on wheels, and he rose to meet her. She slid into the booth beside him, and the waiter appeared. “What’s your pleasure?” Ryan asked.

“Knob Creek on the rocks,” she said.

“That and a Macallan Twelve,” Ryan said, “and will you ask a bellman to take the lady’s bag up to my suite? Ryan’s the name, I just checked in.”

Booze was served, and he looked her up and down. “Very nice,” he said, “even nicer than before.”

“You’re looking pretty good yourself,” she said.

They chatted for a bit.

“What time is dinner?” she asked.

“I booked in the restaurant at eight.”

She stroked his thigh. “That gives us an hour and a half, doesn’t it?”

They were in the suite and undressed in a flash, and Ryan thought she looked even better naked than clothed. They were pretty quick, then they rested in each other’s arms.

“It’s a very nice suite,” she said. “Thank you.”

“And you are very nice in the sack,” he replied.

She fondled him. “How about a replay?”

“Whatever you say.”

It was a nice evening, so Stone walked up to the Four Seasons for Dino’s event. As he approached the elevator banks he saw a couple walk into a car. They turned and faced the doors as they closed, and Stone caught sight of Gene Ryan, or at least he thought he did. The elevator started up, and before he could see how high it went, Stone was hustled into another elevator by Dino on one arm and Viv on the other.

“I swear I just saw Gene Ryan get onto another elevator,” Stone said.

“It’s what, six-thirty?” Dino asked. “Are you drunk already?” He turned to his wife. “Viv, we’ve got to get Stone to cut down on his drinking. It’s getting out of hand.”

“Extremely amusing,” Stone said as the elevator doors opened and they stepped into a hallway.

“Stone hallucinates when he drinks too much,” Dino said, pushing him toward the end of the hallway.

“Is this a dinner?” Stone asked.

“No, it’s a cocktail party,” Viv said, “but we’re having dinner later. Let me brief you: my client is Henry Hasker of Hasker & Hasker, a very large hedge fund based in Chicago. His daughter is Henrietta, known as Hank, who has just opened a New York office for the firm. That is the event being celebrated this evening. Henry doesn’t like big dinners, so he invited a couple of dozen of his top people for drinks and heavy hors d’oeuvres, so they won’t go away hungry, then we’re joining Henry and his wife, Helen, for dinner, which will be served in the suite, and of course Hank will be there, as well. Having just moved to New York, she doesn’t know a lot of people, hence my request for your company.”

“What’s she like?” Stone asked, as they reached the double doors of the suite.

“I’ve no idea,” Viv said. “I haven’t met her.”

“I hear she resembles a camel,” Dino said, ringing the bell.

The door was opened by a uniformed butler, and they stepped into the living room of what Stone thought must be the Presidential Suite, because it was huge. A pianist and a bass player were delivering light jazz in a corner of the room, and waiters in red jackets were circulating among the fifty or so H&H employees and their spouses or significant others. A tall man who had to be Henry Hasker detached from a group and introduced himself, then began introducing them to people, none of whose names Stone caught. Then unexpectedly a six-foot-tall knockout of a woman in a strapless cocktail dress materialized, and Stone caught her name: Hank. In heels, she was as tall as Stone, maybe a little taller.

“How do you do?” Stone asked.

“I do very well, thank you. I’ve heard quite a lot about you. Dino says you’re a terrible drunk.”

“As you get to know Dino better,” Stone said, “you will learn that he is an inveterate liar, especially when I am the subject.”

A waiter appeared with two drinks on a tray. “Knob Creek on the rocks,” he said, and Hank took the other one.

Dino couldn’t help laughing. “What did I tell you, Hank?”

Stone took the drink and raised his glass to Dino. “Why don’t we go and talk to somebody else,” Stone said, taking Hank’s arm and steering her toward the grand piano, “like each other?”

“What a good idea,” she said, “and accompanied by good jazz.”

“I understand you’ve just arrived in our city,” Stone said.

“Only a couple of weeks ago.”

“Have you found a place to live?”

“Dad has kept an apartment here for several years. I’m camping there, until I can find time to look for a place of my own.”

“I suppose you don’t have much time for anything but work.”

“Oh, I can be tempted.”

“Temptation is one of the things I do best,” Stone said.

“What are the others?” she asked.

Ryan and Sylvia woke from a sex-induced nap. “We’re half an hour late for dinner,” he said. “I’d better let them know we’re still coming.” He reached for the phone.

“Are you sure you want to go down for dinner?” she asked, scratching his chest.

“I need the rest,” he said, and rebooked their table. He got up and began dressing. He took a holster containing a small 9mm semiautomatic and snapped it to his belt.

“Do you always carry?” she asked, getting into her clothes.

“Nearly always,” he replied. “I was a cop for a long time, and I got used to it. I feel naked without a piece.”

“I know the feeling,” she said. “I was carrying on the train, but today I had to fly. I couldn’t even bring a switchblade.”

“Jesus, you carry a knife? What have I got myself into here?”

“You’re into a lady who knows how to protect herself. In my business you never know when a mark is going to turn bad on you. Don’t worry, I’ve only had to knife one guy, and just enough to teach him some manners.”

They took the elevator to the lobby and walked into the dining room, where they were seated immediately.

One of Dino’s two detectives for the event was seated in the lobby, reading the Post . He reached for his cell phone and made a call.