Unintended Consequences (21 page)

“We are,” Stone said.

“I have the signatures of the board on a draft,” Mike said, “so you and I can sign for the company.”

They sat down, and Stone took out his pen. “I think we’ll remember this moment for a long time,” he said, and signed three copies of the document. He passed it to Mike, who signed, then Marcel inked them, as well. The copies were distributed, then Marcel looked around. “Have we any further business to conduct?” he asked.

“Nothing else,” Mike said.

Marcel stood. “Then, if you will excuse me, I would like to return to have a last look at our area of the auto show. Stone, would you like to come?”

“Thank you, no, Marcel. I’ll see it tomorrow at the opening. Please take the car.”

The meeting broke up, and Mike got onto the elevator and rode down with Stone. “We have special transportation for you,” he said. “The first of our newest armored vehicle.” The elevator arrived at the garage level, and they got out.

A large Mercedes van awaited them, its windows mirrored, and the side door slid open. Inside the richly furnished cabin four seats, two forward and two aft, awaited. Lance Cabot was sitting in one of them, and Rick LaRose was in another.

“Welcome aboard, Stone,” Rick said. “Have a seat.”

“I’ll leave you two gentlemen to your trip,” Mike said.

The door slid silently shut, and the van began to move.

Stone shook both the men’s hands. “Welcome, Rick,” Stone said. “What brings you to New York?”

Rick looked at Lance, who ignored him.

“What do you think of our new conveyance?” Lance asked.

“Very handsome,” Stone replied. “I hear people are driving these things to the Hamptons for weekends.”

“Not exactly like this one,” Lance said. “It’s quite heavily armored.”

“Mike says it’s his newest effort.”

“Indeed. We’ll make another stop,” Lance said. “Then I will chopper to Langley, and the van will drop you at home.”

“All right.”

“It’s a good opportunity for us to talk, Stone,” Lance said.

“We’ve been doing quite a lot of that the past week,” Stone reminded him.

“There’s more to say, I’m afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?” Stone asked.

“I have some things to tell you,” Lance said, “and you’re not going to like them.”

Stone felt a pang of anxiety in his gut; he didn’t like the sound of this. “Go on, Lance.”

“I’m afraid that I and Rick and some of our colleagues have found it necessary to mislead you.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll get to the root of the matter,” Lance said. “Marcel duBois is not the target of the attacks you have seen, beginning in Paris and continuing here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t. Tell me, have any further parts of your memory returned since you’ve been back in the city?”

“No,” Stone said. “Just the memory of who was on the airplane, the one I told your doctor about.”

“I had hoped it would all come back to you,” Lance said. “It would have been simpler than what I have to tell you.”

“Lance,” Stone said, “if Marcel is not the subject of the attacks, then who is?”

“You are,” Lance said.

That stopped Stone in his tracks.

“I expect you thought that it was I who may have been the target in the attack on our car in Paris,” Lance said.

“It crossed my mind.”

“No, it was you.”

Stone started to speak again, but Lance held up a hand. “No, please, let me continue. The shot that nearly struck Amanda was aimed at you. It was silenced, and you didn’t see the bullet strike. The attempted attack on Marcel’s car was aimed at you, as well. And Aldo Saachi did not try to rape Helga—he was waiting in her suite, expecting you to return with her from the party at the Russian Embassy. He planned to kill you both, but mostly, you. Helga would have just been collateral damage.”

“I’m waiting to hear why all this is true,” Stone said.

“Rick?” Lance said. “You tell him.”

“Majorov and his friends were not after Marcel’s businesses,” Rick said. “They want The Arrington. Aldo Saachi approached Eggers right after the two of you met with Marcel, and Eggers rebuffed him.”

“Why didn’t Eggers tell me that?” Stone asked.

“Because he thought you knew. He’s not aware of your amnesia attack, or at least, of the full extent of it. To continue, Marcel flew home that night, then the following day he called you and asked you to come to Paris for further talks. He arranged your travel and hotel and sent your ticket and expense money, and you departed that evening. We had a watch on Aldo, and we saw him onto the airplane. Lance had arranged for the first-class compartment to be confined to our people, Aldo, and you. Aldo was to have received the drug that rendered you unconscious, as Lance explained to you earlier. As it was, the ambulance we had arranged for him was used to transport you to the embassy.”

“So that business about the cabdriver delivering me was a fiction?”

“It was.”

“And it was Aldo who was to occupy the room given to me?”

“Yes, but he managed to elude us at the airport. Dr. Keeler, whom you met, is a forensic psychiatrist, who would have been in charge of the interrogation of Aldo. But he was quite interested in the effects of the drug on you, so it wasn’t a total loss for him.”

“I’m so happy to have been of help,” Stone said drily. “What now?”

“Ah, now,” Lance said, “there is more to do.”

45

T
he van pulled into another garage, and the door closed behind it. Stone could see armed guards inspecting them.

“You’ve been here before,” Lance said, getting out and leading the way to the elevator.

“Yes,” Stone replied.

The elevator stopped on the top floor, and they stepped into a broad hallway. Unlike Stone’s previous visit, when the building had seemed practically empty, it now teemed with life. He followed Lance down the hallway to Holly’s large office at the end.

Holly got up from a group at her conference table, kissed Stone on the cheek, and shook Lance’s and Rick’s hands. “Please have a seat,” she said.

Everybody sat, and a coffeepot was passed around.

“Everybody, please excuse me,” Lance said, “while I bring Stone up to date.” He turned toward Stone. “Now that we have in place the necessary changes to our charter, we are conducting our first operation against a criminal enterprise, in New York, London, Paris, and Los Angeles. Rick is here to coordinate with the three teams.

“Yuri Majorov, whom you have sort of met, has been identified as the leader of this group, at least outside of Moscow, and he is charged with both finding legitimate businesses and taking them over on terms very favorable to his group, which, as you know, we are calling SQUID. It’s not an acronym, so don’t waste time trying to figure out what it means. The squid overpowers large prey in its tentacles, then uses its very sharp beak to kill it, so the name is not inappropriate, given their tactics.

“Having been rebuffed in Aldo’s meeting with Bill Eggers, they identified you as the key player in the Arrington business, since you, together with your son’s trust, are the largest shareholder. They reason that, with you taken out of the picture, the board members would become rattled, fearful of their personal safety, and thus more inclined to accept an offer, albeit a very lowball one. We have learned that they are now preparing to take further steps, after they have dispatched you.

“In short, there will be, if their plan is successful, a significant ‘accident’ at the hotel, one big enough to frighten the paying guests and shake the board’s confidence. Our Los Angeles station is alert to that possibility and working hard to see that it does not take place.”

“So, Lance,” Stone said, “what do you want me to do?”

“We want you to stay alive,” Lance replied.

“I assure you, that is uppermost in my mind.”

“Yes, but thus far, your attention has been redirected to protecting Marcel, who, as it turns out, is in danger only to the extent of his proximity to you.”

“Do you want me to move him out of my house, then?”

“No, we have sufficiently fortified your residence, as recent events have shown, that we are happy for him to remain there.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“We’d like you to move about separately, for you to give him and/or Helga the free use of the Bentley and for you to rely on our van for personal transportation.”

Stone shrugged. “All right, I don’t object to that.”

“We would like for you to be armed at all times, as well.”

“I am armed,” Stone replied.

“Please remain so. The driver of the van and one other man aboard will be heavily armed and prepared to deal with any attack.”

“Oh, good.”

“Stone, I would appreciate it if you would take this seriously.”

“I assure you, I do,” Stone said. “Anything to do with the preservation of my life will have my full attention.”

“We think it best that you do not attend the opening of the auto show,” Lance said.

“I was looking for a way out of that, anyway. I’ve already been to the Paris show, and they’ll have, mostly, the same cars.”

“Now, let me try to be delicate,” Lance said.

“Please do.”

“While we wish you to be at all times concerned for your safety, we also wish . . .” He seemed to struggle for the word.

“You want me to be the bait to draw out the Russians?”

“Well, yes. I would not have employed that word, but it will suffice. We would like you to maintain your movements around town, dinners out and such, and not just hole up in your house.”

“All right,” Stone said cautiously.

“And we are prepared to provide you with nearly unnoticeable body armor—the very latest thing, as it were. We have your size in stock.”

“How much body armor?”

“Upper and lower body.”

“So you’re as much worried about my balls as my internal organs?”

“As it were,” Lance said primly.

“All right, I’ll give it a try.”

“Good,” Lance said. “I’m glad we’re all on the same page.”

“Please remember, Lance, that pages turn.”

When the meeting broke up Holly pulled him aside. “How are you, Stone?”

“You mean, without your company?”

“No, I meant how are you?”

“I’m sorry, that was churlish of me, but Lance always has a grating effect.”

“I’m well acquainted with that characteristic, and I’m happy to be based in New York, instead of at Langley.”

“Straight answer: I’m annoyed, but otherwise fine. I look forward to the end of this episode and to being alive to see it.”

“We’ve pulled out all the stops on this one,” Holly said. “You probably won’t see the other people involved, as they’ll hang back a bit.”

“Waiting for the Russians to go for the bait?”

“I’m afraid so. We want to bag every single one of them. What Lance didn’t say is, if they take you out, Marcel duBois will be next. They’ll use your death to cow him into letting them into his business empire.”

Stone nodded.

“We’re doing everything we can, but you have to take care of yourself, too.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Stone kissed her and walked to the elevator. The big van was waiting with its door open and an athletic young man with no hair standing next to it, looking for enemies in his own garage.

Stone sighed and got in.

46

S
tone arrived at home in the van and was told to wait inside it for a moment. He tried to relax as the two young men up front got out and surveyed the neighborhood. Finally, the bald one opened the door for him.

Stone got out. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Stanley,” the young man said. “Now you’d better get inside.”

Joan buzzed him in through the outside office door. There was a young woman sitting in a chair beside her desk.

“Who’s your friend?” Stone asked.

“A friend of your friend outside,” Joan said. “It seems I’m valuable enough to rate a guard.”

Stone kissed her on the forehead. “You bet your ass you are.” He went into his office and looked for something to do. There wasn’t much, but he did it. After he’d done it, he called Dino.

“Chief Bacchetti’s office,” a woman’s voice said.

Stone was accustomed to getting Dino directly. “This is Stone Barrington. May I speak to the chief, please?”

“What is your business with the chief, Mr. Barrington?”

“Nefarious and disreputable. Just tell him I’m on the line.”

She put him on hold for quite some time. Finally, she said, “The chief will speak to you now,” and put him through.

“Hey, Stone.”

“Hey, yourself. Who’s the barricade?”

“That is my new secretary. I also have a detective assistant, a deputy chief, and some guy from public affairs in my offices.”

“Why do you sound so pissed off about it?”

“I’m used to a glassed-in cubicle with a view of a dozen guys sitting at worn-out desks. Now I’ve got a view of the city, featuring two large office buildings that are no longer there, and a lot of mahogany paneling. All that’s missing is a grand piano.”

“Ah, I can see you’re suffering from a bad case of cultural overindulgence.”

“That pretty much sums it up.”

“You and Viv want to get some dinner tonight?”

“Okay by me. I’ll check with her. Where you want to do it?”

“Patroon all right?”

“Sure. See you there at what, eight?”

“Tell you what, I’ll pick you up at home. I’ve got a new ride.”

“An M1 tank?”

“Something like that. I’ll be outside your door at eight.” They both hung up.

•   •   •

I
t was nearly six before Marcel returned from his meetings at the auto show, and Stone took him into his study for a drink. He handed him a Knob Creek. “Would you like to join the Bacchettis and me for dinner this evening?”

“Thank you, Stone, but I’m tired, and I’d just like for Helene to give me some dinner and put me to bed.”

“That is easily arranged,” Stone said. “I heard some good news for you this afternoon.”

“I can always use good news.”