Stuart Woods: Fast and Loose

“Now, why would he do that and jeopardize his newly found position?”

“Because he is a revenge freak, and he’s going to get drunk with power very quickly.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever encountered anybody quite like that,” Stone said. “How would you define a revenge freak?”

“Someone who, when slighted — however slightly — extracts a price from the slighter, usually one all out of proportion to the seriousness of the slight.”

“Even unto death?”

“Death was Macher’s work when he was at the CIA. I mean, he always had a title as a cover, and he did carry out covert operations for the Agency, but they usually revolved around the removal of one or more of the opposition. He was instrumental in the establishment of the Agency’s drone program, which has carried assassination to new and exotic heights.”

“Yes, I’ve seen the pictures of the firing of Hellfire missiles through windows, exploding entire houses.”

“Oh, now it’s much more refined than that,” Ed said. “Now some of them are equipped with silenced .50 caliber sniper rifles that can, remotely, put a round into the ear of an opponent and not make a sound heard on the ground. Heads just suddenly explode, alarming others nearby.”

“Please tell me that St. Clair did not have a fleet of those standing by.”

“Not a fleet, but Macher, through his connections with Agency suppliers, managed to corral a couple. But I digress, I don’t mean necessarily that Macher is going to hunt any of us down with drones.”

“I’m relieved to hear it, and I’m glad that I hardly ever came to Macher’s attention.”

“Don’t you believe it,” Rawls said.

“Huh?”

“St. Clair knew everything about you and me that could be known, and it was Macher who gathered the intelligence on us and anyone else St. Clair dealt with. He was an information freak. He had to know everything about everybody.”

“Then he would have known he was backing a political candidate, Nelson Knott, who had a proclivity for raping and sometimes impregnating women who worked for him.”

“Of course he did, and he took the greatest precautions to see that that news never came out. He took the view that if there was no evidence and no witnesses, it never happened.”

“But his precautions were not successful.”

“Right. You managed to hide one of the women and her family at your home in England, and that recording she made blew the lid off Knott’s candidacy and, incidentally, off the candidate, as well.”

“How colorfully you put it.”

“That’s the sort of interference that Macher would take personally.”

“Oh, he’s thin-skinned, is he?”

“Thin-skinned and hard-shelled. Simultaneously. You must remember that most of the work St. Clair put into creating Knott as a candidate was actually performed by Macher and his wide-ranging PD.”

Stone took a swig of his bourbon and let it find its way down. “Oh, shit,” he said.

The Carlssons, father and daughter, arrived on time for drinks, and after Stone had served everybody, Dr. Paul handed Stone a brown envelope.

“What’s this?” Stone asked.

“Some photographs. Take a look at them.”

Stone opened the envelope and removed half a dozen color photographs of a Concordia 40. “This is gorgeous,” Stone said. “Better equipped and newer-looking than mine.”

“It was one of the original Concordias, the ones built in Germany, like yours,” Carlsson said. “Would you consider it an adequate replacement for your yacht?”

“More than adequate,” Stone said. “Superior, I would say.”

“Then if you will accept it as a fair replacement, it’s yours, and I will deal with my insurance company for the cost.”

“Then I accept. Where is she?”

“She’s out of the water in Rockland, but ready to launch after an extensive refit. One of my crew knew somebody who knew somebody, and there she was. She’ll be at your dock tomorrow.”

“You take my breath away,” Stone said, handing them to Dino to see.

“We very nearly took your breath away permanently, and I’m relieved that you like the replacement Concordia.”

Ed Rawls looked at the photos and raised his glass. “To new old boats,” he said, and everybody drank.

Over dinner Paul Carlsson was very quiet, and his daughter noticed. “Dad, is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, exactly,” Carlsson said, “just a little worrying.”

“Anything an attorney and a policeman and a retired spy can help with?” Stone asked.

“I don’t think so, it’s a business thing.”

“The Carlsson Clinic is your family business, isn’t it?” Dino asked.

“Yes, it is.”

“The city sent me there for my last physical.”

“I hope it was performed to your satisfaction.”

“Well, the city was satisfied, and that’s all I cared about.”

Carlsson sighed. “I’m not sure it will be the same clinic this time next year.”

“Oh, Dad,” Marisa said, “this isn’t about that thing with that man St. Clair, is it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“But he died — surely he’s not a problem anymore.”

“May I ask,” Stone said, “are you referring to Christian St. Clair?”

“I am,” Carlsson replied. “Shortly before his death, he made a takeover offer for the Carlsson clinics. I, my daughter, and my two sons own forty percent of the stock, but over the years we’ve awarded shares to many of our employees, mostly doctors and nurses, who were valuable to our work. They’ve formed an association, and St. Clair made an offer — an inadequate one, which was apparently his practice — for the stock held by the association members.”

“Did they accept?”

“They voted to accept in principle, dependent on a much better offer. Selling their shares would make many of them wealthy, some of them very wealthy, so the prospect is tempting to them. And now I’ve heard that St. Clair’s business interests will be run by a man named Macher, who apparently has a reputation that is something less than savory.”

“Who is representing you in this matter?”

“We have a competent firm who represents us in our normal operations and who has defended us in malpractice matters, though very few of them, but I don’t believe they are equipped to take on this challenge, and we’re faced with a deadline. St. Clair’s offer is to expire in about three weeks.”

“I see,” Stone replied. “If I can be of help, please let me know.” That was as far as he was prepared to go without encouragement from Carlsson.

“Well, Dr. Carlsson,” Dino said, “since this transaction involves a hospital, you should know that our friend Stone is a well-known ambulance... chaser, and very good at it.”

“Thank you for your confidence, Dino,” Stone said wryly, “but I’m sure Dr. Carlsson can address his problem without it.”

“I confess that the matter crossed my mind when I saw your business card, while we were drying you out.”

“And drying out is one of the things Stone does best,” Dino said. Everyone laughed. “Sorry, bad joke, but I couldn’t resist.”

“I’ve heard of Woodman & Weld,” Carlsson said, “and after making a few calls to friends more knowledgeable than I in these matters, I must say I am impressed with what I’ve heard. Would your firm consider taking us on, Stone?”

“I think we’d both benefit from sobriety before going into that, Dr. Carlsson, and we have taken drink this evening. May we discuss it tomorrow, in the cold light of day?”

“Of course.”

“I will say that I’m optimistic that we can find a solution to your problem.”

“Thank you, I feel better already.”