Стюарт Вудс - Foul Play

“Neither has anybody else,” Stone said, “except maybe somebody at the Federal Reserve.”

“He said the rest would be wire transferred to a bank of my choice as soon as I had signed a document, which he produced. It was short and sweet, too much so. He wanted to leave the twenty-five million dollars in my safe, once I had signed the document.”

“Let me stop you right there,” Stone said. “There is a one hundred percent probability that anyone who has possession of that much money in a footlocker did not earn it by the sweat of his brow, nor did he obtain it by other means that are honest and aboveboard.”

“That thought occurred to me, and once again, I told him to produce a written offer that my attorneys could review and I would, after they did, have them get back to him. He continued to insist that I keep the money in the footlocker, until I said that I could have the police inspect it and determine its origins, and that I would not sign the document he offered me.” He took a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Here is a copy of the document.”

Stone read it, which didn’t take long. “I’m so glad you didn’t sign this or accept the money. It sounds as though his ‘buyer’ was trying to implicate you in a criminal transaction that would allow him to blackmail you into selling your company cheaply.”

“I expect so,” Shep replied. “Finally, the man took his footlocker and left. I observed him through my office window, putting it into a van and driving away.”

Dino spoke up, “Did you, by any chance, make a note of the license plate number of the van?”

“No, it was too far away to be legible.”

“Did you hear from him again?”

“Yes. The following day he appeared at my office with a cashier’s check on a Swiss bank for twenty-five million dollars, and a thick document detailing his client’s offer.”

“Did you keep the check?”

“No, I made a copy of the check and returned the original to him. I told him that I would send the contract to my attorney and respond to it after a few days. I also gave him my attorney’s card and told him that any further communications with his buyer should take place between him and my attorney, that I would have nothing further to do with any transaction until my attorney was satisfied that it was, as you put it, ‘kosher.’ ” He handed over the copy of the check.

“Looks kosher to me,” Stone said. “What about you, Dino?”

“If I can keep this I can find out tomorrow if it is real.”

“Oh, I know it’s real. My attorney checked. After some changes in the offer were negotiated over a period of about ten days, we closed the deal and all the money, two hundred fifty million dollars, was wired to my bank, which gave them a terrible shock. They had never seen anything like it, either. I turned over the business to the new owners and got out.”

“That’s certainly what I would have done,” Dino said.

“I take it you’ve heard from the buyer more recently.”

“How did you know that?”

“Just a hunch. He wants some or all of his money back, doesn’t he?”

“The lawyer said that, on taking possession of our plants, the buyer had determined that the air-conditioning and heating in our Massachusetts factory was defective and had to be replaced, at a cost of twenty million dollars.”

“How did you respond?”

“I sent him a letter saying that all the heating and air-conditioning equipment had been replaced two years ago, at a cost of eight million dollars. I also pointed out that our contract specified that the buyer had a thirty-day period before closing to inspect the premises and notify us of anything requiring repair or replacement, and that there had been no such notification.”

“You’ve done everything properly, then,” Stone said.

“Apparently, that doesn’t matter. The lawyer informed me on the phone that his client didn’t do business that way, that he preferred informal transactions between honorable men.”

“And you said...?”

“I told him that our contract provided that all our dealings would conform to the laws of the State of Massachusetts, and that our dealings were at an end.”

“How long ago was this?”

“About a week before you and I met on the sidewalk outside your house.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to mention all this at that time?”

“I was embarrassed to have become involved with such people, and I was hoping that they would just go away.”

“Tell me,” Stone said. “What value did you put on the company at the time of the sale?”

“Almost exactly what these people offered me. It occurred to me that they might somehow have gained access to the appraisal letter that was sent to me.”

“Have you mentioned this to Mike Freeman or any of the Strategic Services people?”

“No.”

“I’ll call him in the morning and instruct him to beef up your security.”

“Who did you sell the company to?” Dino asked.

“A Delaware corporation, McGlumphy and Whitfield, Inc.”

“One created for the purpose,” Stone said. “I’ll wager they don’t have offices or a phone number.”

“I’ve already checked; they don’t. Just a P.O. box in Wilmington.”

“That’s par for the course,” Stone said, “and the corporate laws of the State of Delaware are extremely protective of their corporations.”

“I’ve heard that,” Shep said.

Stone ordered them all a cognac.

“What do you think?” Shep asked.

“I think it’s going to go something like this,” Stone said. “You’ll keep getting demands like this from them, and they’ll increase the pressure and the amounts. Finally, they’ll want to renegotiate the sale, and they’ll make a demand that you can’t or won’t meet.”

“Then what?”

“Then they’ll do one of two things: They’ll decide you’re too much trouble, and they’ll go away. Or they’ll kill you and go after your estate for the money.”

“At what point will it become clear which option they’ve chosen?”

“That’s unclear, but I think it’s safe to say that you would be in a hospital for a protracted stay while they’re deciding, so neither option is going to be much fun.”

“Any suggestions as to my next move?” Shep asked.

“Do you own any real estate other than your father’s house in Massachusetts and the Carlyle apartment?”

“Yes, there’s a house on Martha’s Vineyard. It’s nearing the end of a renovation, as we speak.”

“Who owns title to the property?”

Shep gave him a small smile. “A Delaware corporation,” he said.

“I like it,” Stone said. “Is it habitable?”

“Now?”

“Last week would have been better, but I’ll settle for now.”

“It should be. The builder has asked me to come and approve the finished product. He’s worked for us in the past, and he prides himself on finishing on time and on budget.”

Stone looked across the room at a couple just being seated. “Just the man I want to see,” he said. He stood up and waved, then beckoned.

Mike Freeman excused himself and walked across the room. “Shep, Dino,” he said. “Stone, have you got a better idea than my having drinks and dinner with a beautiful woman?”

“Mike, I’m sorry to take you away from all that, but it will only take a couple of minutes to deal with this.”

“Let’s deal with it then.”

“I need to get Shep out of the Carlyle and to a house on the Vineyard at the crack of dawn tomorrow, and he’s going to need a detail of at least eight, until this situation is resolved.”

“I can deal with all that with one phone call, and you can explain the situation to me later. Shep, a car will pick you up tomorrow morning at six o’clock, inside the garage at the Carlyle. Take the service elevator down. You will be transferred to our hangar at Teterboro Airport, and then in our jet to Martha’s Vineyard. Do you have a car there?”