Stuart Woods - Strategic moves

"Do you have any idea why they're interested in your comings and goings, Herbie?"

"No, and I don't understand it."

"Herbie, without giving me any details, have you been involved in anything that might even remotely resemble an illegal activity?"

"No, Stone," Herbie replied, sounding wounded. "I'm just living my life, that's all."

"Herbie, I'm going to tell you a secret that will transform your life, if you will only believe it."

"What's that, Stone?"

"If you're an honest man, you don't have to worry about being investigated. The DA can't find anything incriminating about you if you haven't done anything incriminating. Does that make any kind of sense to you?"

"Well, yeah, I guess."

"Do you believe what I just said?"

"Well, it's logical."

"No, Herbie, you have to believe in your heart that you are innocent, and then you will feel better. Work on that."

"Okay," Herbie said. "See you later."

"Please, God, no," Stone whispered to himself, closing his eyes again.

There was another rap on his office door. "Stone?"

"What is it, Joan?"

"One of those technicians from upstairs wants to do something to our telephones."

Stone thought about that for a moment. "Send him in, please." He tucked a pillow under his head and waited.

A man wearing a tool belt came in. "Mr. Barrington, I need to take a look at your office phones."

"Are you going to remove the bugs?"

"Well, sir, without acknowledging that there are any bugs on your phones, I would like to take a look at them. Only take a minute."

"All right, go ahead," Stone said.

The man went to Stone's desk and used a screwdriver to take the plastic top off the phone. There was a snipping sound, then he put the phone back together and repeated the process with the phone on the coffee table.

"Don't forget the secretary's phone," Stone said.

"Yes, sir."

"Did you do all the ones upstairs?"

"Yes, sir, all the way to the top of the house. The kitchen, too."

"Thank you."

The man went away, and Stone closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. The phone rang, and Joan came on the intercom. "A Willa Crane for you."

Stone picked up the phone. "Good afternoon, Willa."

"You sound tired," she said.

"I've just finished a four-day, ah, deposition," Stone replied.

"Oh, the one with the CIA?"

"I will not confirm or deny that."

"I will consider it confirmed, then."

"I'm afraid your boss is not going to make any cases from what transpired-unless he has extended his jurisdiction to Europe and the Middle East."

"He will be very disappointed to hear that," she said.

"In that case, you shouldn't tell him, but let Lance Cabot explain."

"Good idea. You free for dinner?"

"Sure. I should have recovered my health by then."

"Can we go to Elaine's?"

"Oh, you liked it there, did you?"

"It wasn't bad; I enjoyed the crowd."

"Okay, eight-thirty at Elaine's?"

"See you there," she said, and hung up.

Stone closed his eyes and lay back. After what seemed only a moment later Joan spoke. "It's six-thirty; I'm leaving."

Stone opened his eyes. "Six-thirty? You're kidding."

"You've been out like a light."

Stone struggled to a sitting position. "I certainly have."

"A cold shower will bring you around."

"Brrrr," Stone said.

As Stone was leaving the house the phone rang. "Hello?"

"It's Dino. I can't make dinner; work."

"I'm devastated," Stone replied. "Have you gone off me?"

"Long, long ago," Dino replied, then hung up.

Stone walked into Elaine's to find his table uncharacteristically vacant. He sat down and accepted his usual Knob Creek, which the bartender had begun pouring as he was getting out of the cab.

Elaine came over and sat down. "So, where's Dino?"

"He's not going to make it tonight."

"Is he in the hospital? We could send flowers."

"He says he's working."

"That means he's eating somewhere else. If it's at Elio's, I'll kill him." Elio's, a rival restaurant down Second Avenue, had been started by an old headwaiter of hers many years before.

"How would you know?" Stone asked, forgetting for a moment that Elaine always knew everything.

"I have spies."

"You are conducting a spying campaign against Elio's?"

"I don't have to; people tell me things. You tell Dino to watch himself." She got up and moved to another table.

Willa had not yet arrived, so Stone got out his phone and called Dino.

"Bacchetti."

"If you're at Elio's, you're a dead man."

"So that's what she thinks?"

"She says she has spies."

"I'm at work."

"You'd better have witnesses." Stone hung up, chuckling.

Willa breezed through the door wearing a long sheepskin coat. A waiter hung it up for her. "Whatever he's having," she said to him, then sat down.

"What good taste in whiskey you have," Stone said, kissing her as her drink arrived.

"Same to ya," she said, raising her glass and knocking half of it back.

"Tough day at the office, huh?"

"You could say that," she said with a deep sigh. "How about you? You sounded wasted when I called."

"Last day of my, ah, deposition. A lot of tension had built up, for various reasons. I was letting it all out when you and half a dozen other people interrupted my sweet reverie."

"Sorry about that."

"One of those who interrupted was a client of mine, name of Herbie Fisher. He says your office is investigating him."

Willa appeared to choke on her bourbon. "Listen," she said hoarsely, coughing and clearing her throat, "I am not investigating Herbert Fisher."

"In that case, you should tell your investigators to be more subtle when questioning the doormen in his building."

"Stone, I tell you again, I am not investigating Herbert Fisher."

"Ah, then it's some other enthusiastic but judgment-impaired law-school dropout in your office, is it?"

"I cannot comment on that. I can tell you only that I am not investigating Herbert Fisher, and neither, to the best of my knowledge, is anyone else in my office."

Stone peered at her narrowly. "That sounded like an almost complete denial," he said. "Let's discuss that 'to the best of my knowledge' part."

"It means what it says," she replied, sinking the rest of her drink.

Stone waved for another for both of them. "Somebody in your office is investigating Herbie?"

"To the best of my knowledge, no."

"Stop saying that! You're a deputy DA. Don't you know everything that goes on in your office, or are you pleading incompetence?"

"I am highly competent," she replied through clenched teeth, "but I do not know everything that goes on in our office all the time. Is that clear enough for you?"

"As through a glass, darkly," Stone replied. "Let's take this down a level to the rumor category. What have you heard about one or more ADAs in your office investigating Herbie Fisher?"

She took a gulp of her second bourbon and faced him. "Let me ask you another question, and please give me a precise answer."

"Shoot."

"Are you now representing or have you ever represented anyone in the immediate or extended family of Herbert Fisher?"

Stone thought for a moment about what that question might mean. "You're investigating his wife?"

"Answer my question, if you want to go on talking about this."

"No, I am not now nor have I ever represented anyone in the immediate or extended family of Herbie Fisher."

"Yes," she said.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes is the answer to your question."

Stone struggled to remember what his question was and finally remembered. "Investigating his wife for what?" he asked.

"I warn you, this is the last question on this subject I will answer. Got that?"