Stuart Woods: Insatiable Appetites

M.L. took a new tack, asking my advice about the price of genuine scotch whiskey. I told him I could supply him with twenty cases immediately and named a price. C.L. laughed and said that was less than the wholesale price. I told him I would be happy to sell it to him at the wholesale price. M.L. thought this amusing and pointed out to C.L. that Prohibition was long gone, and scotch was plentiful at the wholesale price. He asked me if I could supply more than twenty cases, and I replied that I could, but not immediately; it might take another week or two. M.L. accepted my price and asked where he could collect the shipment. I told him that I would require payment of the entire sum in advance and that I would deliver it to any local address he wished within twenty-four hours.

C.L. objected to this arrangement and asked me why they should trust me. I told him that whoever had recommended me to them must have thought me trustworthy, and since I was clearly the weaker hand in the transaction, I would need advance payment to protect my position and to be of further use to them. I said that if this was not satisfactory to all concerned, we could forget the whole business and that I would sell my scotch elsewhere. I thanked them for their time and made to leave.

M.L. stopped me. He opened a briefcase and counted out the sum in large notes. I asked him if he would like a receipt, but he said that my beating heart was his receipt and that if I did not deliver on time it would be removed and delivered to him. I agreed to this arrangement, and he instructed me to deliver the whiskey to the basement of the building we were in. Suffice it to say, I was motivated to make the delivery on time, and M.L. and I agreed to do further business on the same terms.

Stone thought that M.L. and C.L. might well be Meyer Lansky and Charlie Luciano, and that Eduardo must have been selling them stolen scotch whiskey.

Then Joan buzzed him and said Mary Ann was on the line. Stone pressed the button. “Good morning, Mary Ann,” he said. “Where are we in all this?”

“I told Dolce that you needed to meet with the two of us about some business with the estate.”

“And...?”

“She agreed to have us for lunch at Papa’s house Monday at one PM.”

“I should think that’s enough time to make the necessary arrangements.”

“She wanted to meet today, but I thought Dino would need more time than that. I mean, this is all very complicated.”

“Yes, it is certainly that. I’d better get to work on my end right now.”

“Can I ride out there with you on Monday?”

“Of course. I’ll have Fred pick you up at eleven forty-five.”

“At my office, please.”

“As you wish.”

“Stone, I’m frightened.”

“I understand your concern,” Stone replied, “but I think this will be our only opportunity to bring this off without public notice.”

“I suppose this will be expensive.”

“Breathtakingly so. I can’t tell you how much now, but brace yourself.”

“All right, I’m braced,” Mary Ann said. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Stone hung up and called Dino. “Mary Ann and I are going to lunch at Eduardo’s house on Monday at one. Is that going to work for you?”

“I can make it work,” Dino said.

“I’m concerned about Pietro.”

“And well you should be.” Someone interrupted Dino. “I’ll call you when everything is set and run you through it.”

Stone called Mike Freeman and told him what he needed.

“I can do that,” Mike said.

“And no freebies, Mike. Bill this to me, and I’ll see that it’s paid in full immediately. No discounts, either.”

“As you wish, Stone.”

Stone hung up, satisfied that all the bases would be covered, but still, he was filled with dread. He did not wish to be in the same room with Dolce, not even with Mary Ann there, but now he was committed, and he would have to go through with it. And he would have all weekend to worry about it.

Elton Hills had an early lunch in his son’s study and watched C-SPAN, which was featuring a live session of the House of Representatives. He watched as the House minority leader spoke against a bill sponsored by the other party. Elton knew that face from the newspapers he had begun reading, and he knew the man’s voice from the tape Bruce Willard had played him of the meeting that Evan had attended and, later, exposed. The voice grated on his nerves.

Elton looked up the number of the House in the phone book and, when it was answered, asked for the office of Representative Evan Hills.

“Good morning,” he said to the young man who answered. “My name is Elton Hills. I am the father of Congressman Hills, and I wonder if I might speak to his chief of staff?”

“Just a moment, Mr. Hills.”

He was kept on hold for about a minute, then a young woman came on the line. “Mr. Hills?”

“Yes.”

“This is Elaine Tozer. I’m Congressman Hills’s chief of staff. May I express the sincere condolences of all of us in his office on your terrible loss?”

“Thank you, Miss Tozer,” Elton said. “That is very kind of you.”

“Not at all. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Actually, there is. I wonder if I could come to the Capitol and see my son’s office? I’d like to know where he worked.”

“Of course you may, Mr. Hills. I’d be delighted to receive you here and take you to his office.”

“Is there a room number?”

She gave it to him. “How will you be arriving?”

“In my car, with a driver.”

She told him how to get to the garage and said she would arrange a visitor’s parking pass. “I’ll be happy to meet you in the garage and bring you to Evan’s office. When would you like to come?”

“Would an hour from now be all right?”

“Of course. I’ll meet you in the garage at that time.”

Elton thanked her, then he packed his things, left the housekeepers a note and a hundred-dollar bill, and went to his waiting car.

Elaine Tozer was a small, trim woman in her forties, dressed in a business suit. She greeted him warmly and led him to the elevator. Once aboard, she clipped a plastic tag to his coat pocket that read: VIP GUEST. “That will get you through security and anywhere you want to go in the building,” she said.

She kept up a running chatter as they got off the elevator and walked to Evan’s office. She took him into the handsome room. “I’m so glad you could come today,” she said. “Tomorrow we have to dismantle the office and prepare it for an appointed successor, who will serve out Evan’s term.”

“Do you think I could spend some time here alone?” Elton asked.

“Of course. We won’t be needing the room this afternoon. Would you like some coffee or tea?”

“No, thank you. I’d just like to sit here quietly and commune with the spirit of my son.”

“I’ll leave you alone, then.” She left the room.

Elton had a look around the office and found it much like his son’s study. There were no photographs of him with politicians or celebrities as he might have expected to find in a politician’s office. He sat down at the desk and idly opened a drawer or two, and in the right-hand top drawer he found something he had not seen for a long time: it was the small 9mm semiautomatic Walther pistol that his elder son had bought somewhere. It had apparently been the World War II sidearm of some German officer. The elder boy must have given it to Evan, he thought.

As he held the gun, a television set across the room came to life, apparently on a timer. The channel was C-SPAN, and the camera was directed at the floor of the House of Representatives, where a man stood at a podium, speaking. He recognized the Speaker from his pictures in the newspaper. A thought came to him. He went to the door leading to the reception area and locked it, then returned to the desk.