Stuart Woods - Hot Mahogany

Deal came to life. “Now wait a minute-”

“When I’m finished, Harlan,” Stone said. “While in Harlan’s apartment I encountered another woman, who explained to me, in due course, that she was an unattached female and was amenable to seeing me socially. We spent the rest of the evening together and all our free time since then, and if Harlan doesn’t like it, he can go-”

“Stone!” Eggers interjected at the last possible moment. “Let’s try to maintain a sense of decorum.”

“I don’t see the need for that any more than I see the need for Harlan to concern himself with whom I take out,” Stone replied. “He’s not my client, and I owe him nothing, certainly not any explanation.”

“Harlan,” Eggers said in a fatherly tone, “I believe Stone has a point, too. You’re both grown men, and if you insist on competing for the same women, one of you is going to win and the other is going to lose. ‘It’s the law of the jungle,’ as someone once said in an old movie, ‘and the way the cookie crumbles.’ ”

Deal sat and stared at Eggers but said nothing.

“Furthermore, Harlan,” Eggers continued, “I am not grateful for the opportunity to involve myself in yours and Stone’s petty differences, and I would appreciate it if it did not become necessary for me to do so again. This is a business relationship, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Deal finally got a word in. “You’re quite right, Bill, and I apologize for having brought you into this. You and your firm have served me well, and I don’t want you to think that I’m not grateful.”

“Thank you, Harlan,” Eggers began but was cut off.

“But if you ever again let this person,” he waved in the general direction of Stone, “near any piece of business related to me, I will yank my account from this firm in short order. I hope we understand each other.”

“We do, Harlan,” Eggers said.

“I bid you good day,” Deal said, then departed the room.

Stone started to get up but was pushed back into his chair by Eggers’s voice.

“You,” Eggers said, “had better take what he just said as gospel, because Harlan and Charlie Crow have put together a new real estate company; they’re going to take it public, and this firm is handling all the legal work, including the IPO, and you will not fuck it up by so slavishly following your dick anywhere near it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Bill,” Stone said, “I did not invite myself to this party. You brought me in, so it is incumbent upon you to keep me out of it. I would like never to see that man again under any circumstances.” He stood up. “I will go now.”

“No objections,” Eggers said, then he leaned forward in his chair. “Who’s the lady?”

“Her name is Tatiana Orlovsky, and she’s dynamite!” Stone said, then walked out. All the way down the hall he could hear Eggers laughing.

Stone returned to his office, and as he walked in, a strange man sitting in the waiting area stood up.

“Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes?”

The man handed him a sealed envelope. “You’ve been served,” he said, then walked out.

Joan was behind her desk. “I tried to warn you,” she said, “but you wouldn’t look at me.”

Stone ripped open the envelope and read the subpoena. “Alienation of affection?” he said incredulously. “What is this, Victorian England?”

“You’ve been named a corespondent in a divorce, haven’t you?” Joan said, sounding amused. “It had to happen.”

“Oh, shut up,” Stone said and went into his office. He tossed his coat across the room, sat down and called Tatiana.

“Hello?”

“Good morning,” he said.

“Oh, it’s so nice to hear your voice.”

“And yours, as well. Your divorce has taken a turn,” he said. “I’ve been named corespondent. The assertion is that I have alienated your affection.”

“I’m so sorry, Stone, but you’re guilty, after the fact.”

“I’m so glad you said, ‘after the fact.’ Now what you should do is call your attorney and ask him to name Darlene Harris a corespondent. That’s who Henry was with the other night at Elaine’s, and he should see that she is served today. She lives at 682 Park Avenue.”

“And how is it that you know her exact address?” Tatiana asked, with mock suspicion.

“I looked it up before I called you,” he lied. “Serving her will even the score until you get his financial records, then it will be game, set and match. And, by the way, you shouldn’t be surprised if this turns up in some gossip column or other. They have people at the courts who tip them off about these things.”

“Oh, no,” she said.

“The price of freedom, my dear.”

“Well, then, I’ll shut up and pay it. What kind of clothes will I need in Connecticut this weekend?”

“Country stuff like tweeds for the daytime and, I don’t know, maybe an LBD for the dinner party. It’s black tie.”

“Is black tie the norm up there?”

“No. It’s very odd. I sense some sort of special occasion, but I don’t know what it is. You’ll enjoy seeing the house, though; it’s very beautiful.”

“That’s not all I’m going to enjoy,” she said, then hung up.

Late that night, as Stone was returning home from dinner, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Stone, it’s Barton Cabot.”

“Good evening, Barton.”

“I’m sorry to call you so late, but something has come up.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Quite the contrary.”

“Okay, what’s right?”

“I’ve just had a call from Peter Cavanaugh, the director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. He wants to see Mildred’s collection tomorrow morning at eleven, and he’s bringing along his chief curator of American furniture.”

“That’s great.”

“Greater than you know. This means two things: One, he’s moving fast in order to get in ahead of the other museums, and two, he’s already got the money, or most of it, promised by some benefactor or benefactors.”

“That’s great.”

“Yes, it is. Now, here’s what I want you to do: First of all, I want you to be at Mildred’s house tomorrow morning at ten-thirty.”

“All right, I can do that if I leave early enough.”

“And on the way, I want you to call… What’s Mildred’s lawyer’s name?”

“Creighton Adams.”

“I want you to call him and have him tell the guards on the property to let us in the house at ten-thirty.”

“I can do that, and I’m sure he won’t have any objections. Why do you want me there?”

“Because Peter is bringing his witness, and I want one, too, so that I can hold him to account for anything he says tomorrow. Also, I would not be surprised if, after he has satisfied himself about the quality of the collection, he will have something for me to sign, and if so, I want you there to read it.”

“All right.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning at ten-thirty, and don’t be late.”

“I’ll be there,” Stone said. “But Barton, there’s something you’d better be prepared for.”

“What’s that?”

“I noticed that you included a photograph of your remaining mahogany secretary in your prospectus, but it’s not listed in the inventory we prepared and that you and Mildred signed.”

“Don’t be concerned about that. If it comes up, just follow my lead.”

“I do have a very important concern, Barton.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ve told me that you don’t know whether the stolen secretary is the original or the copy. I am not going to be a party to defrauding the Metropolitan Museum, so you must do nothing to put me in that position. If you do, I’ll have to do whatever is necessary to protect myself.”