Стюарт Вудс - Foul Play

Suddenly, Kronk spoke, “What do you think of an Italian restaurant called Mama Leoni’s?” he asked. “It has been recommended to me.”

“I think it closed many years ago,” Stone said. “Instead, try Caravaggio, on East Seventy-Fourth Street.”

“Like the painter?”

“Exactly.”

“Is it very good?”

“Yes, and it has the charm of being open.”

Joan bustled in with the contract and handed them each a copy.

“You may wish to consult your attorney,” Stone said.

“I am an attorney,” Kronk said. “In my spare time.” He signed the contracts and handed them to Stone. Stone signed both copies and handed him back one.

“Now,” Stone said. “Let’s close this meeting as we began it, with a threat: if any move is made against my client, his properties, or me and mine, he retains the ability to shut you down.”

“And he expects me to trust him?”

“He trusted you not to burn down his properties. Would you like to make an offer for the land?”

“I would not,” Kronk said. “I will be happy with these.” He held up the contract. “And the patents, if you please.”

Stone buzzed Joan. “Bring me the patents, please.”

Joan entered Stone’s office, crossed it, went into the back room and returned shortly with the leather envelope. “There you are, sir.”

Stone handed the envelope. “There you are, sir. These are the originals. We retain copies.”

Kronk made to rise.

“Just a minute,” Stone said.

Kronk stopped. “What is it?”

“There is the matter of payment.”

“Ah, yes.” He removed an envelope from an inside pocket, opened it, removed three pieces of paper, handed one to Stone, and returned the others to his pocket.

Stone looked at the paper; it was a cashier’s check for $150 million. “What are the amounts of the other two checks?” he asked.

Kronk, for the first time ever, smiled. “You will never know,” he said.

“Remember,” Stone replied. “If my client is... interfered with, he can always shut you down.”

“At his peril,” Kronk said. He got up and left.

Stone took a deep breath, then buzzed Joan.

“Yes, sir?”

“Come in.”

She entered, and he handed her the check. “Call our bank and have them confirm that this won’t bounce when presented.”

Joan left, then returned. “Good as gold,” she said.

Stone picked up the phone and dialed a number.

“Hello?”

“You’re one hundred fifty million dollars richer than you were ten minutes ago,” Stone said. “That should more than cover the houses.”

“Yes. Are we free to move about now?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“We’ll talk it over and let you know.”

“I would suggest that you not go directly back to anywhere Kronk knows about, at least for a week or so.”

“You said you have a property in England?”

“I did, and you are welcome to it. My airplane will be at your disposal when you need it.”

“Thank you. I’ll call.” They both hung up.

The next morning, Stone was arranging an assignation with Brooke Alley when Joan buzzed. “It’s Shepherd Troutman, on line two.”

“Seven at P. J. Clarke’s?” he asked Brooke.

“Peachy,” she replied. “Bye.” She hung up.

Stone pressed the other button. “Shep?”

“Hi. We’ve figured things out,” he said. “We’d like to fly back to New York the day after tomorrow, where I have to pick up some clothes from the apartment. Then, the day after that, may we stop at the Vineyard for a couple of hours, before continuing to England? I have to look at house plans with the architect; we’re rebuilding all three houses, and we want to start immediately, so that if we spend some time in England, when we return to the Vineyard they’ll have been framed.”

“No, if you did that you’d have to clear out through customs and immigration at an international airport, like Boston Logan, before departing for England. Let me suggest an alternative.”

“Shoot.”

“Fly to Teterboro, as you planned, run your errands, then the following day, I’ll have you flown to the Vineyard in a light jet, where you can have your meeting, then return to Teterboro for your international departure. I need some flight time for my logbook, so I’ll fly you to the island and back myself. After that, you might wait another day before you depart for England, so you won’t arrive late at night.”

“All right, at which airport will we land?”

“At a private field on my property. You’ll be met there and taken to the house.”

“Fine.”

“One other thing. I’m nervous about your being on the Vineyard, for even a short time. Can your architect meet you at the airport and show you the plans there?”

“Yes, there’s a meeting room at the FBO. I’ll book it.”

“Very good. When you land at Windward Hall, which is my house, the property manager, Major Bugg, will meet and orientate you. There are cars on the property you can use, but I’d stay close to home for a week, before venturing to London. Give things enough time to cool down.”

“Of course.”

“My pilot, Faith, will call you about your departure time from Burbank, and she will conduct the subsequent flight to England. By the way, the check for your deal with Kronk has been deposited and was declared good as gold by the bank.”

“Then maybe I can afford to have a suit made in London.”

“Good idea.” They hung up. He called Faith and gave her the drill for Burbank and England, then he freshened up and left for Clarke’s and the company of Brooke.

After dinner they returned to Stone’s house and ran for the bedroom. Later, he told her of the travel plans he had made.

“Can I fly up to the Vineyard with you?” she asked. “I’d like to check in with Phil.”

“I’m just going to fly Shep up there, where he’ll meet with his architect and then return to Teterboro with me. There won’t be any time for visits, and I want to get Shep off the island as soon as possible.”

“But you made a deal with this man, Kronk, didn’t you? We’ll all be safe on the Vineyard.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to trust Kronk to keep the deal. He has a low boiling point, and he was still simmering when we met earlier today.”

“Oh, all right,” she said. Then she started his engine again.

The following day Stone called Mike Freeman, told him of the successful deal with Kronk, and made new security arrangements for Shep’s travel, in both the U.S. and the U.K.

“You’re taking the M2 to the Vineyard?” Mike asked.

“Yes, I’ll fly myself. I need the hours to keep sharp.”

“I think you ought to have a couple of my people on that flight,” he said.

“How about one? It’s a small airplane, compared to the G-500.”

“Okay, as you wish.”

Stone hung up.

Two days passed without further action or noise from Kronk, and Stone began to feel better about the deal he had made. That morning Fred drove Stone out to Teterboro, where he did a preflight inspection of the Citation M2 with the regular pilot.

“Would you like me to fly left seat?” the man asked.

“No, it’s a single-pilot airplane, and I used to own it, so I have a lot of time in type. It’s just a couple of hours over and back, with a little waiting time in between, and I need the time.”

“Okay, enjoy it. It’s a great little airplane.” He walked away, then came back a minute later with four life jackets. “I know you wouldn’t ordinarily wear these for a short over-water flight, but there’s an FAA examiner in the hangar right now doing ramp inspections, so let’s let him see you with these on, and you won’t have to dig out the ones under the seats.”