Стюарт Вудс - Indecent Exposure

“I understand completely. They can be very close-mouthed. How many persons will be aboard?”

“Four couples, no children or dogs, two Secret Service agents, and one naval officer carrying communications equipment. We will be escorted by another motor yacht, description to be determined, carrying other government personnel and equipment.”

“Got it.”

“Our guests of honor will land at the Key West Naval Air Station and be transported to the Coast Guard station by helicopter and will be berthed in the owner’s cabin. I and my companion will take the aft cabin. The other two couples will be in the next two best cabins. Our party will land at Key West International and take cabs to the yacht. With everyone aboard, perhaps we should anchor off somewhere for dinner that evening and depart for Fort Jefferson the following morning.”

“I’ll pick a quiet place.”

“The Secret Service and naval personnel will take their meals with the crew. During their inspection, in addition to their thorough look at the yacht, they will install some communications equipment, which will go with them when they leave. Please give them every assistance.”

“I will certainly do so. Will we have to deal with any press?”

“Not if everyone keeps his mouth shut. I will consider it a moral failure if any media show up. No need to mention any of this to your crew, until you are approaching Key West.”

“I understand perfectly.”

“Call me on my cell if you have any questions or concerns.”

“Yes, sir.”

Both men hung up. The captain seemed to get it, Stone reflected.

By the following morning Stone’s depression had cleared away like an afternoon thunderstorm.

Dino called. “Better?”

“Better,” Stone said. “Normal, in fact.”

“Good, then Viv and I can invite you to Thanksgiving dinner at our place without worrying about your spoiling everyone’s good time.”

“Thank you, I’d love to.”

“Why don’t you invite Holly?”

“I will do so.”

“We got an invitation to Peter Rule’s wedding reception,” Dino said. “It’s in New York.”

Stone fumbled through the mail stacked on his desk. “Got it,” he said. It was being held the Sunday evening after Thanksgiving at the Metropolitan Club, in New York. “I assume you’ll be there.”

“If we’ve recovered from Thanksgiving dinner,” Dino said. “Viv is cooking.”

“Hire a caterer.”

“She won’t have it — something about the way her mother did it.”

“Hire a crew of reinforcements, then.”

“Good idea. Gotta run.” He hung up.

Stone checked the reception invitation again, then asked Joan to call Madam Secretary.

“On the line,” Joan said.

“Good morning, Madam Secretary.”

“Talk fast, the British ambassador is on hold.”

“Come to New York for Thanksgiving dinner at Dino and Viv’s and the wedding reception.”

“See you on the Wednesday afternoon,” she said.

“I’ll send a gift from both of us.”

“Great, bye.” She moved on to the British ambassador.

Stone went online to the Tiffany website and viewed the sterling silver patterns, then ordered twelve place settings of the very plain Faneuil pattern and a suitable chest in cherry and had them sent with a card from Holly and him. He liked to get that sort of thing out of the way before he forgot about it.

Joan buzzed him. “A Mr. Edward Cumming to see you.”

Another walk-in. “Oh, what the hell, send him in.”

Mr. Edward Cumming had brought a friend. The two of them were in their mid-thirties and would have answered to the same police description: medium height, medium weight, medium everything. Stone offered them chairs. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

Both men produced badges. “We are senior investigators with the Criminal Investigation Division of the New York State Police,” one of them said. “My name is Cumming, my partner is Malloy.”

“How do you do?” Stone said.

“Not as well as you do,” Cumming said, looking around the office.

“Thank you, I think,” Stone replied.

“Our office has had a report that you have offered advice to a client on how to illegally secure a pardon or special treatment for an inmate of the New York State Prison System, one Daniel Blaine.”

“That is preposterous,” Stone replied.

“Are you acquainted with one Alphonse Teppi?”

“‘Acquainted’ is too strong a word,” Stone replied. “The gentleman you refer to walked into my office three days ago and hinted that he wanted such advice. After a brief conversation, during which I offered no illegal advice apart from cautioning him not to break the law, Mr. Teppi left my office at my invitation. I did not accept him as a client, and I have not seen or heard from him before or since.”

“What would you say if I told you I had a recording of your entire conversation?” Cumming asked.

“I would say that such a recording, if undoctored, would confirm the facts I have just related to you.”

“Would you say that the recording might contain advice, perhaps offered with sarcasm, in such matters?”

“I would say that, as a matter of personal preference, I might respond to ridiculous requests with sarcasm, perhaps heavy sarcasm, and that I probably did so on that occasion before I requested Mr. Teppi’s departure from my office.”

“Exactly how did you frame your request, Mr. Barrington?”

“I believe I stood up and said, ‘Good day,’ or words to that effect.”

Cumming placed a small recording device on Stone’s desk and switched it on. It played a recording of his conversation with Teppi. When it finished, Cumming switched it off. “Is that an undoctored version of your conversation with Mr. Teppi?”

“It appears to be,” Stone replied.

“In light of what you have just heard, would you like to alter your answers to my questions in any way?”

“No,” Stone replied. “I believe the recording supports my statements to you.”

Cumming exchanged a glance with his colleague, who gave him a small nod. “We accept your account and intent with regard to the recording.”

“May I have a recording of that statement?” Stone asked, and to their credit, both men laughed.

“Mr. Barrington,” Cumming said, “do you know why Teppi sought you out or who referred him to you?”

Stone thought about that for a moment. “Gentlemen, the recording contains no mention of that.”

“I’ll grant you that, Mr. Barrington, but my question remains the same — do you know who referred Mr. Teppi to you?”

“I have no exact knowledge of that, and I will refrain from guessing,” Stone replied, “but surely Mr. Teppi knows who referred him to me. Why don’t you ask him?”

“We have already done so, and his only answer was that the referral came from an acquaintance at a prominent magazine. He would not divulge the name.”

“I have no basis on which to argue with Mr. Teppi’s answer to your question,” Stone said.

“Would you care to hazard a guess as to what person at which magazine?”

“I would not.”

“Would it, perhaps, be a Ms. Parsons at Just Folks magazine?”

“Given the state of my knowledge, I could neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Are you acquainted with Ms. Parsons?”

“I was, briefly. I no longer am.”

“Do you mean that you know her, but you do not wish to know her?”

“I think that’s a fair characterization of my meaning.”

“Then I think we need not take up any more of your time, Mr. Barrington.” Both men got up and left.

Stone buzzed Joan.

“Yes, boss?”

“If that character Alphonse Teppi shows up again or calls, please show him the same courtesy I asked you to show Gloria Parsons.”