Stuart Woods - Naked Greed

Upstairs, Dino’s phone went off; he checked the caller ID before stepping out of a group and answering. “Talk fast,” he said.

“Boss, I just saw Gene Ryan walk into the hotel dining room with a woman. Should I take him?”

“Not alone,” Dino said. “Call for backup, but only plainclothes, no fuss. Take him when he leaves the dining room and get him into a car fast. And be careful, he’s probably packing.”

He hung up and rejoined his group, passing Stone on the way. “Maybe you’re not crazy,” he said.

“Huh?” But Dino was quickly in conversation with a couple.

“Did Dino say you’re not crazy?” Hank asked.

“That’s what passes for a compliment from Dino.”

Henry Hasker called for silence, welcomed the crowd, and introduced Dino. Dino gave them ten minutes on the NYPD and how well-protected they were in his city. Mike Freeman had arrived, so Dino also told them how important private security was and how he looked upon them as an extension of his department.

After Dino finished, people started to leave, as if on command, and shortly, dinner was announced.

The suite contained a handsome dining room and a beautifully set table.

Dino stepped aside and called his detective. “What’s happening?”

“Backup is here — we’re waiting for Ryan to finish his dinner, so we can make the bust.”

“Keep it as quiet as you can,” Dino said.

Stone approached. “What’s going on?”

“Are you carrying?”

“Not tonight.”

“Then take a tip and stay as far as you can from me.” Dino went and took his place at the table without another word.

Stone sat between Viv and Hank. Viv leaned over and said, “The next time Dino describes a woman as a camel, I’ll know what he means.”

Stone laughed. He turned to Hank. “We were talking about you — don’t worry, it was nice.”

“Are you married?” Hank asked.

“Widowed. What about you?”

“Divorced. I’m sorry for your loss. Was your wife ill for long?”

“She died from a gunshot wound — a repelled suitor.”

“Any children?”

“A grown son, but he was raised mostly by his mother and stepfather. We didn’t become close until after the gentleman’s death and my reacquaintance with his mother.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It is. I’ll explain it to you when we have more time.”

“What does your son do?”

“He’s a film director and producer.”

“Not Peter Barrington.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve seen a couple of his films. He’s very talented.”

“He and Dino’s son, Ben, are partners in a production company based at Centurion Studios, in L.A.”

“I’d like to meet him sometime. I’m interested in film — or rather, film people — as an investment opportunity.”

“Then Peter would be a waste of your time. His stepfather was the actor Vance Calder, and as a result, Peter has a large inheritance and is a major stockholder in Centurion. He’s probably a freer agent than anybody in Hollywood.”

“Then perhaps I should meet him as a prospective investment client.”

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be a good use of your time, either. Peter is very well advised on all fronts, and he doesn’t have much personal interest in finance, except with regard to film.”

“It sounds as if the Barrington men are impervious.”

“This Barrington certainly isn’t.”

She smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Where do you suggest I look for an apartment?”

“If you’re into hip or cool or whatever the latest thing is these days, go downtown. If not, the Upper East Side might be more comfortable for you. How much space do you need?”

“Well, as a single girl, not so much, but as a businesswoman, quite a lot. I expect to do some entertaining.”

“I’ll give you the names of a couple of brokers when we meet again.”

“And when would that be?”

“It can’t come soon enough for me. How about tomorrow night?”

“Love to.”

“Come to dinner at my house, then. I’ll cook something for us.”

“Are you a good cook?”

“I am. I have a repertoire of three or four dishes, and I do those well. Beyond that I’m just a diner and a chooser of wines.” He slipped a card into her hand. “Seven o’clock?”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“As will I.”

“You’re an interesting man, Stone.”

“How would you know that? We’ve just met — you know only that I’m widowed, have a son, and cook a few dishes.”

“I’m not without my sources. I also know that you’re a retired policeman, that you fly your own airplane, and that your mother was a well-known painter. I expect you know a good deal less about me.”

“You’re quite right. Until this afternoon I didn’t know you existed, and then I had to deal with some misinformation.”

“Misinformation?”

“From Dino, but I’m accustomed to that. However, what I’ve seen and heard impresses me and makes me want to know more.”

“Are you interested in investments, then?”

“Not very much.”

“Then what does interest you?”

“That remains to be seen, starting tomorrow evening.”

“How shall I dress?”

“Comfortably.”

The dinner came to an end, and Stone thanked his host and hostess. He had met Helen Hasker only in passing, but he liked her.

“May I give you a lift somewhere?” Stone asked Hank.

“I’m at the Waldorf,” she said.

“That’s on my way.”

They followed the Bacchettis down the hall to the elevators.

When the car came, the Bacchettis got on, then Dino raised a hand and said, “Take the next one,” and the door closed.

“Does he think we want to be alone?” Hank asked.

“I don’t think so. Something is going on that we’re not privy to.” The next car came, and they got on.

“Well, what will we do on the ride down?” she asked.

Stone kissed her. “Not as much as I’d like to do.”

Then the elevator reached the ground floor, and all hell broke loose.

Ryan was getting nervous. He had now spotted a second likely cop at the dining room door.

“What’s the matter?” Sylvia asked.

“I’m not sure,” Ryan replied, “but if anything happens, get the hell out of here and don’t look back.”

“Gotcha,” she said.

The check came, and Ryan counted out the hundreds and a generous tip. He checked the doorway again and didn’t like the people he saw. “This might be a good time for you to go to the ladies’,” he said to Sylvia. “It’s down the hallway to your left. So is the kitchen door.”

“Good luck,” she said. “If you make it, give a girl a call.”

“Don’t go back to the suite.”

“There’s nothing there that I can’t walk away from.”

“Take care of yourself, Sylvia. It was fun.”

“It sure was.” She patted her lips with a napkin, got up, picked up her purse from the floor between them, and made her way unhurriedly toward the restrooms. As she stepped out of sight of the dining room door she detoured through a door marked KITCHEN EMPLOYEES ONLY.

Inside, she stopped a waiter. “Which way out?”

“Either back the way you came, or if you want Fifty-sixth Street, go to the end of the room and take your first left.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said, patting his cheek.

“Rough evening?” he asked.

“Not yet,” she replied, and went on her way.

Ryan gave her a couple of minutes’ head start, then he reached across his body under his coat and yanked the 9mm from its holster. As he stood up he put the weapon into his front right pocket but kept his hand on it. He walked unhurriedly toward the door, and as he approached he could see into the lobby. An elevator door opened, and Dino Bacchetti stepped out, his hand holding his jacket back to reveal a firearm.