“I hear you’ve done all right since leaving the department,” the commissioner said.
“I can’t complain,” Stone said.
“You might have done better, if you’d had Brian Doyle’s political instincts.”
Stone said nothing.
“Doyle will go far,” the commissioner said, “but only so far. Somebody will cut him off at the knees before he gets to my office.”
“There’s usually somebody willing to do that,” Stone agreed.
The car came to a halt in front of Stone’s house. He had forgotten how fast a police motorcade could move through traffic.
The commissioner shook Stone’s hand. “Try not to let anybody get hurt in this investigation,” he said, holding on to Stone’s hand. “That’s not the sort of thing Doyle thinks about.”
“I’ll do my best,” Stone said. “Thank you for the lift.”
Stone opened the car door, got his umbrella outside first, and ran for his office door.
Joan looked surprised to see him back. “How’d it go?” she asked.
Stone hung up his wet coat. “Better than I could have hoped,” he said. “The commissioner is a better guy than I had thought.”
The phone began ringing.
46
JOAN HANDED THE CALL OFF to Stone. “Hello?”
“It’s Mitzi.”
“Hi.”
“Where did you go?”
“The commissioner wanted to talk to me, and he offered me a ride uptown.”
“Brian is livid.”
“Because I left his meeting?”
“Because you left with the commissioner.”
“Oh.”
“Tiffany Baldwin was a little upset, too, but she hid it better. I think she didn’t want to share you with the commissioner.”
“If you say so,” Stone said.
“What did you and the commissioner talk about?”
“He wanted to talk about old times,” Stone said.
“You had old times together?”
“Not exactly. He apparently followed a case I worked right before I left the department.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Does that mean I’m not supposed to ask?”
“I’ll tell you about it when we have more time.”
“And when is that going to be?”
“I’m at your beck and call,” Stone said. “You tell me.”
“I’ll have to place another order with Derek Sharpe first,” she said.
“And when is that going to happen?”
“We’re letting him stew a bit; besides, I don’t want to appear too eager.”
“If it’s any help, I think Sharpe and Larsen are going to decamp.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because they’re both involved in enterprises that can’t continue forever without their getting caught, and I think they’re too smart to wait too long. I think you should see Sharpe for coffee and place a really big order.”
“How big?”
“Forget the marijuana. Ask him for ten kilos of cocaine, and imply that the orders could grow. You want to order enough to appeal to his greed; he’ll hang around a little longer for a big sale.”
“Good idea,” she said. “I’ll run it by Brian.”
“Don’t tell him it was my idea; he’ll screw it up just to spite me.”
“So I get all the credit?”
“And all the blame if it spooks Sharpe.”
“You said have coffee with him?”
“Don’t go to his studio; he’ll rape you.”
“Yuck. Coffee it is.”
“Some place where Tom can see you from the street.”
“Okay.”
“When you’ve got the buy set up, tell Sharpe you want the delivery at your apartment. He ought to be comfortable there now.”
“All right. Then after we bust him, you and I will celebrate.”
“You’re on,” Stone said. He hung up, and the phone rang immediately.
“It’s Tiffany Baldwin,” Joan said.
“Hello?”
“What did you do to get the commissioner to get you out of my meeting?” she asked.
“I think he thought that if I kept eating Danish, he might have to perform the Heimlich maneuver,” Stone replied. “Did anything happen after I left?”
“Not a hell of a lot. I don’t think I trust Lieutenant Doyle,” she said.
“You have good instincts,” Stone said. Line two began flashing on his phone. “I’ve got another call coming in,” he said, “so I’m going to have to go.”
“Let’s get together.”
“Maybe after this is over. Bye.” Stone hung up and waited for Joan’s voice.
“Brian Doyle on two,” she said.
“Hello?”
“It’s Brian.”
“Hi, there.”
“What was that you pulled with the commissioner?”
“He offered me a ride home, and it was raining like hell.”
“If you think you can pull something behind my back, Stone…”
“Didn’t you notice that he asked me to step outside? It wasn’t my idea.”
“All the same…”
“What happened at the meeting?”
“We just got our priorities straight with the U.S. Attorney.”
“And how do you intend to proceed?”
“I’ve been thinking about it, and I believe Derek Sharpe and Sig Larson are going to run for it soon.”
“Oh? Why do you think that?”
“I think they’re too smart to think they can get away with what they’re doing forever.”
“That’s very insightful of you, Brian,” Stone said. “You might very well be right.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Doyle said. “Mitzi is going to ask Sharpe for ten kilos of coke and forget about the grass. I think he’s greedy enough to hang around until the big deal gets done.”
“And what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to try to bring the thing with Larsen to a head; get him to commit an actual crime.”
“And what would that consist of?”
“It would consist of Mitzi giving him a ten-million-dollar check to invest.”
“Like a fake check?”
“No, like a real one?”
“Whose money are we playing with?”
“I’ve got a banking connection who will issue the check and then put a hold on paying it.”
“You mean a delay at the bank to keep Larsen in town a little longer?”
“Exactly. I can tell we’re on the same page.”
“I think you might put somebody on checking out the jet charter services at Teterboro and White Plains airports,” Stone said, “because when they run, I think that’s how they’ll do it.”
“Good idea,” Doyle said. “I’ll get that started today.”
“They’ve probably used the same service before to move money. And I’d send your guys to the airports to do the inquiry in person. I think that might encourage the charter service to play straight with you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Doyle said. “See ya.” He hung up.
The phone rang again immediately.
“Mitzi on line one,” Joan said.
“Hello?”
“Are you and Brian on the same page now?” she asked.
“Oh, sure. He told me his big idea, and I loved it.”
“Brian thinks you’re fucking me.”
“Now where would he get that idea?” Stone asked.
She was laughing when she hung up.
47
STONE DUG OUT Sig Larsen’s card and called the number.
“Larsen Enterprises,” a British-accented woman’s voice said.
“Sig Larsen, please. It’s Stone Barrington calling.”
“One moment, please, Mr. Barrington. I’ll see if I can find him.” This was apparently designed to create the impression of a large office, Stone thought.
“Just one moment, please, Mr. Barrington. I’m getting him out of the conference room.”
Yeah, I’ll bet, Stone thought.
“Stone? It’s Sig. How are you?”
“Very well, Sig, and you?”
“Just great. What did you think of my prospectus?”
“Well, I had a look at it, and I thought it was a little skimpy on information.” Best not to overenthuse, Stone thought.