Стюарт Вудс - Indecent Exposure

He emptied his briefcase and handed the contents to her. “Scan these into the appropriate folders, please, and label the tape with the Lee names and lock it away.”

“Certainly. Oh, I almost forgot, here are your phone messages.” She handed him a thick envelope.

Stone sat down at his desk and opened the envelope. All the messages but one were from various media sources. The other one was from Dino Bacchetti, his old partner from when he was a cop; Dino was now police commissioner. He handed Joan the media’s messages. “Handle these, and don’t put any of them through in the future.” He called Dino.

“Bacchetti.”

“Good morning,” Stone said.

“Ah, the secretary of state’s new hunk.”

“Don’t start.”

“And how is Holly?”

“Diplomatic.”

“And the Lees?”

“Presidential.”

“Anything new down there?”

“I met Kate’s son from her first marriage, Peter.”

“I don’t think I knew about him.”

“Fathered by Simon Rule, formerly CIA bigwig, now deceased.”

“That’s convenient. What’s the kid like?”

“Rich, from his father’s estate, sort of a sandy-haired version of JFK Junior. He’s just gotten engaged to Senator Saltonstall’s daughter, Celeste. I think he’s been flying under the radar so far, but sometime soon you’ll start seeing his name in the paper, probably in conjunction with wedding bells.”

“Sounds like he has political aspirations.”

“If you were the only American ever who had two presidents for parents — or stepparent, in Will’s case — wouldn’t you have political aspirations?”

“I suppose it would be a waste of genetic material not to. Is he running for something in particular?”

“Junior senator from New York in the half-term elections. I expect him to be well financed.”

“Yeah, the one percent will be falling all over him.”

“He’s been working for Saltonstall for the last four years. Holly says he’s had face time with every elected official in New York State, from the governor right down to dogcatcher level, and most of them owe him favors.”

“His mother’s son.”

“You know it.”

“You free for dinner tonight? Just you and me — Viv’s traveling on business, as usual.”

“I’ll think of an excuse to be available.”

“Patroon at seven?”

“Done.”

As he hung up the phone, it rang.

“Yes?”

Joan’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “There’s a lady here from Just Folks magazine.” There was awe in her voice.

“Tell her I’m in a meeting until early next year.”

“That’s not going to work, she caught a glimpse of you through your open door before I could body block her.”

“Okay, send her in and I’ll boot her out myself.”

“Her name is Gloria Parsons.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“She gets around. Here she comes. Ms. Parsons, Mr. Barrington can see you for just a minute.”

Before Stone could hang up the phone a woman stood in his doorway.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Barrington, I’m Gloria Parsons.”

Stone reckoned she was six feet tall in her bare feet — not to mention slim, beautifully dressed, high-breasted, and toothy. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time at the...” But she was seated on his sofa before he could finish the sentence, “... moment.”

“Why don’t you just talk to me, instead of returning all those phone calls you got this morning?”

“How’d you...”

“Three of them were from me.”

“... know?”

“Look at it this way — give Just Folks an exclusive interview, and then you can wave off all the others by telling them that.”

She had already produced a pad and a gold pen. “Let’s get some basics,” she said.

Stone took a chair next to the sofa. “If you’re any good, you’ve already got the basics,” he said.

She rewarded him with a big smile. “You know me too well.”

Stone gave her the sixty-second bio. “Born NYC, you figure out when. Attended PS Six, NYU, and NYU law school. A cop for a number of years, most of them as a homicide detective, then of counsel to Woodman & Weld, more recently a partner. Is that basic enough?”

“That’s the stuff I’ve got. Now let’s be more thorough. Father was...”

“Started as a neighborhood handyman in the Village, went on to become a brilliant carpenter and cabinetmaker and designer and builder of fine furniture.”

“For example?”

“My desk,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, “and everything on the floor above, along with other pieces.”

“Did he leave you the house?”

“No, that was a great-aunt. She had hired my father to design and build the interior.”

“Father’s first name?”

“Malon.”

“Mother’s maiden name?”

“Matilda Stone.”

Parsons wrinkled her brow, no doubt fighting Botox. “Sounds familiar.”

“Painter.”

“Gotcha. She’s got some stuff in the American Collection at the Metropolitan, right?”

“Right.”

“When and how did you meet Holly Barker?”

“Oh, twelve, fifteen years ago, I guess.”

“How?”

“I was in Vero Beach, Florida, to pick up a new airplane at the factory, and I went to a bank to get a cashier’s check. While I was standing in line, three or four men with masks and shotguns entered the bank. The guy behind me argued with them and got a load of buckshot in the chest for his trouble. I dialed nine-one-one and did what I could for him until the EMTs arrived, but he didn’t make it.”

“What has all that to do with Holly Barker?”

“The shooting victim was her fiancé. They were to be married the following day.”

“Oh, God.”

“Holly was the chief of police in the next town, Orchid Beach. She looked me up to thank me for trying to help her man, and we kept in touch after that.”

“I recall that she joined the CIA not long after that. It seems an odd transition.”

“I believe she was of great help to them in breaking up an important drug ring, who were shipping it in from South America. They were impressed with her, as has been everyone who has ever met her.”

“How did she hook up with the President?”

“Katharine Rule was a deputy director of the Agency at the time, and Holly distinguished herself, partly under Ms. Rule’s tutelage.”

“And when did you renew Ms. Barker’s acquaintance?”

“She was CIA station chief in New York for some years. I was conveniently located.”

“Do you see a lot of her now?”

“Not very much. Since moving to the White House and thence to the State Department, she’s been extremely busy.”

“And how did you come to the attention of the Lees?”

“Holly introduced us, and I was of help to them on something or other.”

“Care to discuss ‘something or other’?”

“No. I’ll plead attorney-client confidentiality.”

“I hate that,” Parsons said.

“All journalists do.”

Parsons flipped through her shorthand. “Let’s see — why did you leave the NYPD?”

“A bullet to the knee. I was invalided out.”

“Brave man!”

“There’s nothing brave about getting shot. You don’t volunteer.”

“Why did you get shot?”

“Bad luck.”

“Did you shoot the shooter?”

“Tried and missed. My partner put two in him. He was a better shot than I.”

“Modest, too.”

“Nothing modest about being a not-so-hot shot.”

“Why did the Lees choose you as their attorney?”

“Their attorney retired.”

“But why did they choose you, in particular?”