Stuart Woods: Dirty Work

"Don't worry, I scared the shit out of him," Levy said. "He's not going to run."

"If he does, I'm going to let you pick up half the bail," Stone said.

"In your fucking dreams," Levy replied evenly. "I did the best I could for him. You and Johnnie Cochran together couldn't have done better with Kaplan. Where's my money?"

"It'll be there at lunchtime," Stone said.

Joan laid a fresh copy of the News on Stone's desk.

"I see you've been talking to the press," Stone said, flipping from the page-one lead to the rest of the story inside.

"You don't see your name anywhere, do you?" Levy asked. "Let me have my little moment in the sun, Stone. It's all a little shyster like me can hope for. After all, we can't all do dirty work for Woodman and Weld."

"This has nothing to do with the firm," Stone said. "I told you, I was doing a favor for Bob Cantor."

"Yeah, sure, Stone. And I'll be representing the Bush girls the next time they get busted for ordering cosmopolitans at the college cafeteria. Don't worry, buddy, I'm not going to embarrass you or blackmail you. But you'd better have some more work for me soon, or I might weaken." He hung up, laughing maniacally.

Stone walked into P. J. Clarke's, waded through the lunchtime bar crowd, and found Dino at a good table in the back room. "Good day, Lieutenant," Stone said.

"Sit down," Dino replied, "and shut up."

"What is it with you today?" Stone asked. "Why can't I talk anymore?"

"Because I already know everything you're going to say," Dino replied, sinking half a draft beer and waving at the waiter. "Two bacon cheeseburgers, medium, and two bowls of chili," he said, "and bring Clarence Darrow, here, a beer." The waiter vanished.

"About last night…" Stone began.

"I already know about last night," Dino said. "Everybody who can read at the sixth-grade level knows about it." He tapped his copy of the News, resting on the table.

"I do have a few questions," Stone said.

"And I'll answer them for you. One: The girl got away from my people across the roof. She apparently has the agility of a cat burglar, which is more than I can say for your boy, Herbie. Two: The four suits who got there first work for a foreign intelligence service, and their country of origin shall remain nameless. Three: They and the cops got there so fast because they were waiting on the landing below, laying for one or both of the people in the apartment. Four: No, I don't know where the photographs are that Herbie took. Any other questions?"

Stone shook his head. "Thank God Herbie kept my name out of it."

"Yeah? What makes you think that? He was spilling his guts in the patrol car, up the front steps of the precinct, and into an interview room faster than anybody could write it down, and you were the star of his story." Dino swept a hand expressively across the table, nearly spilling his beer. "Above-the-title billing!"

The waiter set their food before them.

"I'm going to throw up," Stone said.

"Well, do it in your hat, pal. I'm eating, here."

"I can't eat this," Stone said, beginning to eat the chili.

"Don't worry, the detective knows we're friends; he'll keep it to himself, and I've already scrubbed the interview tape clean."

"Thank you, Dino."

"Is that all you can say? You ought to be offering me Carpenter's sweet body on a platter."

"Carpenter's in this, somehow," Stone said. "I have a feeling she knows the country of origin of the gentlemen present last night. When I told her what happened, she started making phone calls, and when I woke up, she hadn't slept in the bed."

"Poor you."

"I don't think Herbie's fall killed Larry Fortescue," Stone said.

"Well, neither do I," Dino replied, "but we'll probably never know."

"Why not? The medical examiner will figure it out."

"The ME was poised over the corpse this morning, scalpel raised, when two guys showed up with a federal court order and took the body away in a van."

"Holy shit."

"My sentiments, more or less."

"This whole business is completely out of control," Stone said.

"Well, completely out of our control," Dino agreed. "But somebody must know what's going on. Certainly, nobody in the NYPD does."

Stone finished his chili. "I do know something you don't," Stone said.

"What?"

"I know where the photographs are."

"I want them now," Dino said, pushing away from the table.

"Just a minute," Stone said. "You get one set of prints, I get the negatives and all the others."

"Deal," Dino said, standing up.

"And I need them processed by two-thirty, with nobody the wiser. You know somebody who can do that?"

"You bet your ass," Dino said. "Let's get out of here."

Stone threw some money on the table, took a quick swig of his beer, grabbed his burger, and ran after Dino.

Stone dove into the cab behind Dino, who sat staring at him.

"You going to tell the driver where to go?" Dino asked.

Stone gave him the address of the building with the skylight, then he took a huge bite of his burger.

"The camera is still in the building?" Dino asked.

"If we're lucky," Stone replied through the cheeseburger.

"Nobody from the precinct has been there today," Dino said. "I checked. The Feds were in on this. I hope to God they haven't turned it over."

"Me too," Stone replied.

The cab screeched to a halt in front of the building. Dino got out.

"Pay the guy," he called over his shoulder.

Stone paid the cabbie and followed along, still trying to eat his bacon cheeseburger.

Dino was on the stoop, ringing doorbells. The super appeared, chewing his own lunch.

"What d'ya want?" he said, in heavily accented English.

Dino showed him his badge. "Is the sixth-floor apartment locked?" he asked.

"You better believe," the man said. "FBI guy gave me instructions."

"Give me the key," Dino said.

"I'm not fucking with FBI," the man replied, swallowing food.

"Give me the key now, or I'll arrest you for obstruction of justice and send you back to whatever godforsaken country you came from."

The man dug into a pocket and gave Dino a key. "Don't tell nobody," he said, then went back into his apartment.

They took the elevator to the sixth floor. "There's the door to the roof," Dino said, as they got off. He opened the apartment door.

It was dark inside, and Stone found a light switch that turned on a lamp in a corner. The massage table, two of its legs broken, lay on its side in the middle of the floor.

"There's why it's dark," Dino said, pointing upward. The broken skylight had been replaced with sheets of plywood. "Cozy little pad," Dino said.

"Looks like it was rented furnished," Stone observed. "Nobody would buy those pictures, except a landlord."

"Okay, enough of the art lecture," Dino said. "Where's the film?"

Stone went to the fireplace and opened the wood box next to it. It was half full of logs made of compressed sawdust. He lifted one and extracted a 35mm camera with a zoom lens attached. Stone rewound the film, popped the case, and put the film cartridge in his pocket. He removed the lens from the camera and put the lens in one inside pocket of his raincoat and the camera body in the other. "Let's get out of here," he said.

"I want to see the roof," Dino said, striding toward the door. He opened the door and walked outside. Stone followed him. The door closed behind them.

Stone looked around. "I don't see how that girl got down from here," he said.

"Well, we'd better figure out how in a hurry," Dino said.

"How come?"

"Because the Feds will probably be here any minute, and you've closed the fucking door and locked us out."

Stone tried turning the knob. Nothing. "Shit," he said.