Stuart Woods - Cold Paradise

“Okay,” Don said. “You can fly it. Just drop me back at the FBO, and you’re on your way. How long will you be gone?”

“Just a couple of hours,” Stone said.

“You understand there’s a four-hour minimum on the rental?”

“Yes.”

Don hopped out of the airplane, and Stone taxied back to the runway and repeated his takeoff. He climbed to a thousand feet, listened again to the recorded weather, then called the PBI tower. “Palm Beach Tower, this is November one-two-three Tango Foxtrot,” he said, reading the airplane’s registration number from a plaque on the instrument panel. “I’m ten miles to the northwest, VFR, looking for landing instructions. I have the ATIS.”

The tower called back. “Enter a right base for runway niner. Traffic’s light today. You’re cleared to land.”

Stone followed the instructions and ten minutes later he was taxiing up to Signature Aviation, between a Gulfstream III and a G-TV. He wondered how long it had been since anything as small as his rental had parked here.

He got out of the airplane. “The brakes are off,” he told the lineman, knowing they wouldn’t leave it where it was. “No fuel. I’ll be about an hour.”

He went inside the handsome lobby and walked up to the huge desk. “I’m looking for Mr. Frederick James,” he said to the young lady behind it.

“Oh, yes, you must be Mr. Barrington,” she said. “Mr. James and his associate are in the conference room, right over there.” She pointed. “You won’t be disturbed.”

“Thank you.” He walked across the reception room to the door and knocked on it.

“Come in,” a man’s voice said.

Stone opened the door and entered the room. A man, who had been seated alone at the conference table, stood up to greet him. Stone recognized him immediately.

“Mr. Barrington, I’m Edward Ginsky,” he said, offering his hand. He was dressed in a beautifully tailored, double-breasted blue blazer and white linen slacks, his shirt open at the collar.

Stone shook it. “Of course. I’m glad to meet you.” Ginsky was a famous New York lawyer, known mostly for his expertise in representing women in divorce cases. He had handled a number of high-profile divorces, and his clients had always done very well from his representation.

“I’ve heard of you, too,” Ginsky said, sitting down and motioning Stone to a chair. “Bill Eggers speaks well of you, in fact.”

“That’s kind of Bill,” Stone said.

“Well,” Ginsky said, “enough chitchat. Shall we get to it?”

“Let’s,” Stone replied.

“I trust that now you won’t need the identification you requested.”

“No, not for you, but for your client.”

“Ah, yes. Trust me when I tell you that, before our meeting is concluded, you will have adequate proof that I represent Paul Manning. May we proceed on that basis?”

“For the moment,” Stone said, “but I should tell you that I will not come to any agreement until I am satisfied who I am dealing with.”

“Understood,” Ginsky said. “Now, what do you have to propose?”

“Are you acquainted with Mr. Manning’s activities with regard to the island of St. Marks some years ago?”

“I believe I have all the relevant facts.”

“Then you will know that your client and mine were married at that time and, in the absence of a divorce, still are.”

“You could put that light on it,” Ginsky said.

“I hardly know what other light to put on it.”

“I think you are aware that my client is, if not dead, then no longer legally alive.”

“You could put that light on it,” Stone said.

Ginsky allowed himself a smile.

“Still, he exists, my client exists and legally, as I’m sure you’re aware, their marriage still exists.”

“I assume your client would like that marriage to end,” Ginsky said.

“You assume correctly. She wishes the marriage to end and she wishes not to see her husband again or hear from him.”

“I think that could be arranged,” Ginsky said. “Under appropriate circumstances. What is your offer?”

“My client is willing to pay your client one million dollars in cash, wire-transferred to any bank in the United States, in return for a signed property settlement to that effect and a contractual agreement that your client will never contact her again, nor knowingly inhabit the same city at the same time as my client.” Stone knew that he had already put several stumbling blocks in the way of a settlement, one by omission. The two lawyers were circling each other, metaphorically, feeling each other out.

“I see,” Ginsky said. “Of course, hardly anything you’ve said is acceptable.”

“Tell me what you’re willing to accept, and let’s go on from there.”

Ginsky threw his first punch. “Your client achieved a windfall of twelve million dollars as a result of my client’s efforts. He wants half that.”

“Your client masterminded a criminal conspiracy, and when it went wrong, left my client to hang by the neck until she was dead,” Stone parried.

“She did not hang,” Ginsky said.

“Neither did your client,” Stone reminded him. “And, when your client murdered three people and was arrested in New York and extradited for his crimes, and was sentenced to hang himself, my client interceded on his behalf, paying half a million dollars to save his life. She could have done nothing, and we would not be having this conversation.” Stone heard the door behind him close; he had not heard it open. He did not turn around. “It seems to me that your client is deeply in my client’s debt.”

“I don’t owe her a fucking thing,” Paul Manning’s deep voice said from the door. “And don’t turn around.”

Stone felt cold steel pressed to the back of his neck.

Stone didn’t move, nor did he allow himself to show any concern.

“Paul,” Ginsky said, “that is entirely unnecessary, and moreover, unacceptable. If you want me to represent you in this matter, put it away and sit down.”

“I’ll put it away,” Manning replied, “but I’ll stay where I am. And, Barrington, if you turn around I’ll use it on your skull.”

“Mr. Ginsky,” Stone said, “perhaps it would help if you explained your client’s tenuous position to him.”

“Let me explain something to you, Barrington,” Manning said.

“Shut up,” Stone said. “I will not deal with you, but with your attorney. If you can’t accept that, then I’ll leave now.”

“Get in your little airplane and fly away, huh? Maybe I should have a look at that airplane. You know how good I am at fixing them.”

“Paul, be quiet,” Ginsky said. “If you say another word I will withdraw from this meeting, and we’ll all be right back where we started. Mr. Barrington, you have not mentioned your previous offer to resolve any legal difficulties Mr. Manning might have.”

“No, and I won’t mention that until we are agreed on all other points, except to say that to resolve the legal difficulties is within my power.”

“Very well,” Ginsky said. “The offer on the table is for one million dollars in cash, a signed property settlement and, I assume, a divorce, and an undertaking not to see or speak to Mrs. Manning again. Is that correct?” He looked toward the door and held up a hand to stop Manning from speaking.

Ginsky had not mentioned that the transaction would take place through a U.S. bank. “You left out a couple of points, but I won’t quibble,” Stone said. “That’s substantially it.”

“The money is not enough,” Ginsky said. “Let’s cut to the chase. Make your best offer.”

“A million and a half dollars,” Stone said.

“If you will offer two million dollars, I think I can recommend the deal to my client.”