Stuart Woods - Strategic moves

"You are aware, are you not, that U.S. law requires you to register all of your bank accounts outside the country?"

"I am, and I have done so," Pablo replied. "All I want is what I have already told you."

"That is certainly a reasonable goal," Stone said, "if I can convince them that you will give them the information they want."

"That may be more difficult than you think, Stone, which is why I so readily agreed to your outrageous retainer."

Joan brought in the retainer agreement and handed it to Stone. He looked it over and handed it to Pablo. "Joan, this is… Pablo. What name are you going to be using henceforth?"

Pablo accepted the agreement. "I will revert to my original name, Erwin Gelbhardt," he said. "I have a valid passport in that name."

"Joan, this is Mr. Gelbhardt," Stone said.

"How do you do, Mr. Gelbhardt," Joan said, and they shook hands.

Gelbhardt signed both copies of the agreement and handed them back to Stone. Stone signed them both, handed one back to Pablo and the other to Joan for filing.

"But I prefer to be called Pablo," Gelbhardt said.

"Pablo it is," Joan replied, and left the office.

"Now, Pablo," Stone said, "what sort of information will you supply to the CIA, in return for being left alone?"

Pablo thought for a moment. "Well, how about the longitude and latitude of the current location of Osama bin Laden?" he replied.

Stone stared across the desk at his new client. The man did not exhibit any sign of insanity. "You actually have that information?" he asked.

"I do," Pablo responded.

"Who knows that you have it?"

"No one. I came across it quite by accident, and the person who gave it to me died almost immediately after telling me."

"Is there anyone who believes you have that information?" Stone asked.

"Not to my knowledge," Pablo replied.

"Then let's keep it that way for the time being."

"I should have thought you would want to dangle it before Lance Cabot and his colleagues as an incentive."

"Do you have any reason to believe that bin Laden might move to another location?"

"No."

"Then let's first dangle other information before Lance, and save that little piece until we really, really need to use it."

"I must tell you, Stone, that as a patriotic American, I have a moral imperative to give that information to my government."

"Are you morally impelled to give it to them today, tomorrow, or next week?"

"I suppose not."

"Then please let me choose the moment for transmitting it, so that you may derive the maximum benefit for being a patriotic American."

"I take your point," Pablo said.

"Now, what other information do you have for them?"

"I can give them the details of every arms transaction I have been involved in for the past twelve years," Pablo replied. "I should mention that I have what is often referred to as a photographic memory, although it might be more accurate to describe me as visually and audibly memory-efficient."

"Do you have documents to support your recounting of these transactions?"

"Alas, such transactions are never committed to paper, except as notes, which I have always destroyed at the conclusion of the business."

"What we very much need, then," Stone said, "is a transaction that they can confirm independently, as a means of confirming your veracity."

"I am unaccustomed to having my veracity questioned," Pablo said, "having built a reputation for truthfulness over these many years."

"You will have to try not to be offended by the disbelief of others," Stone said. "Each person you speak to will have his own very good reasons for disbelieving you, unless the truth can be more objectively confirmed."

Pablo sighed. "Ah, that is human nature, I suppose."

"It is the nature of the intelligence bureaucracy," Stone said, "where every person is responsible to those above him and must, therefore, cover his ass."

Pablo laughed. "I think you are right; I am unaccustomed to dealing with bureaucracy. In my business, decisions are made quickly, albeit with verification on both sides."

"As in 'you show me yours, and I'll show you mine'?"

"Precisely."

"Please remember, as we progress, that we are not dealing in the sale or purchase of hardware, but a trade of information in return for the safety of you and yours. What we are likely to get, if we are successful, is a sheet of paper with some writing and a signature on it."

"I understand. Tell me, Stone, do you have a very good safe in your offices?"

"I do."

"Then I must ask you to deposit there any paper on which you have written any information about me, so that, if your offices should be… disturbed, that information will not fall into other hands."

"I will do so," Stone replied. He looked at his watch. "Now," he said, "I think you should go to a place where you feel secure and wait there while I conduct some preliminary discussion with what we must think of as the opposition. If you will give me a phone number, I'll call you when I have progress to report, probably tomorrow."

"Please memorize this," Pablo said, then gave him the number. "Repeat, please."

Stone repeated the number.

Pablo stood and offered his hand. "I feel better now," he said. "I look forward to working with you."

"I look forward to that, too," Stone said, shaking the hand.

When Pablo had gone, Stone called Lance Cabot.

"Holly Barker."

"Holly, it's Stone. May I speak to Lance?"

"I'm afraid he's out of the office for the rest of the day," she said. "Did you get any sleep this morning?"

"I did, though not enough. Will you ask Lance to call me at his earliest convenience?"

"Sure. Anything I can help you with?"

"Not yet," Stone replied. "Bye-bye." He hung up, then called Dino and made a dinner date. He called in Joan, scribbled Pablo's phone number on a notepad, ripped off the page and handed it to her, along with the letter from the IRS. "Start a file on Mr. Gelbhardt," he said. "Keep it in the safe, along with any other material pertaining to him, and keep the safe locked at all times."

"Anything scary about this client?" she asked.

"He's a pussycat, but there might be those who wish to harm him in some way, and they may not be as nice-hence, the safe."

"Got it."

"Deposit his check and pay the taxes on it today, please."

"Got it."

There was a knock at the door, and Herbie Fisher stood there. "Hey, Stone."

"Hey, Herbie, come in."

Herbie took a seat.

"You don't look so happy," Stone said. "What's going on?"

"Well, I'm not seeing very much of Stephanie."

"Why not? You still live together, don't you?"

"Of course, but she leaves the apartment at seven in the morning and misses dinner a lot of the time."

"Well, she's just started a new job, hasn't she?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Are you still going on your honeymoon?"

"Eventually, when Stephanie can take a break from work."

"What, exactly, is she doing at Gunn?"

"International stuff. She sometimes gets calls in the middle of the night about something that's happening with an overseas market."

"Is she making lots of money for you yet?"

"Not yet, and not a hell of a lot for herself. She and David only get a ninety-thousand-dollar salary each; they could do better at a bigger firm, right out of college."

"But they both will do very well indeed over the long run, right?"

"Right, I guess, when Jack decides to retire or kicks off."

"How's Jack's health?"

"He's in better shape than I am," Herbie replied.

"More time at the gym, Herbie," Stone said. "Now, if you haven't got anything specific to bring up, I have to get back to work."

Herbie stood up. "Yeah, sure; I'm just glad to know you're here, representing me."