Carly opened hers first. “A party. How fun.”
Stone pulled the card out of its envelope. It was an invitation to a dinner being thrown by the New York State Bar Association. The fete was occurring the following Friday, and would be honoring a trio of attorneys for their charitable work.
Stone said to Joan, “Send the usual ‘thank you for inviting me, but I will be unable to attend.’ ”
“Perhaps you should read the entire invitation first,” she said.
“One of the celebrants is Bill Eggers,” Carly said.
“Or Carly can tell you,” Joan said.
Stone looked at the invitation again, and Bill’s name was there in black and white. “I guess there’s no way I can get out of this, is there?”
“Not unless you want Bill reminding you of the fact every time you see him.”
“I do not.”
“It can’t possibly be that bad,” Carly said.
“Sitting around listening to a bunch of lawyers talk about lawyering is not my idea of a good time.”
“I know something that should help.”
“What?”
“We can go as each other’s date,” she said.
“I accept.”
The next day, another gift arrived. This time it was a basket containing a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and a bottle of sauvignon blanc from Screaming Eagle winery in California, worth an easy ten thousand dollars. Accompanying the bottles was a brochure from Riegel Mortuary in Queens.
As before, three bugs were found. Thankfully, none were hidden in the corks of the bottles. Stone would have hated to waste such fine wines. Instead, they were located within the weaved fibers of the basket.
Stone let the basket remain in his office for an hour while he made innocuous calls to clients, then asked Joan to put the wine in the cellar and discard the basket, a reasonable action that those listening in would be unlikely to question.
The day after that, a third gift was delivered.
The modicum of subtlety the sender had been using to this point was gone. This gift was entirely contained in an envelope. In addition to the expected brochure — this one from Grob & Grob Mortuary on Staten Island — there was a gift certificate for a top-of-the-line bronze casket. On the upside, there was no room in the envelope for another bug.
Stone shredded it and burned the remains in the fireplace.
That afternoon, as Stone continued to contemplate the Sarge problem, something Ed Rawls had said kept playing in his mind.
The plan may have to include using you for bait.
This, in turn, spawned an idea.
Stone didn’t relish the thought of being a worm on a hook, but all the other schemes he had come up with had been even less likely to flush the Sarge out.
He called Teddy Fay and told him what he was thinking.
“That’s not bad,” Teddy said. “Not bad at all. It is a little short on details.”
“Which is why I called you,” Stone said. “Details are your specialty.”
“Is Carly around? I found spitballing ideas with her last time to be very productive.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m worried that she’ll start enjoying what you do too much.”
“She could be the one who provides the spark that could mean the difference between your next celebration being a birthday or a funeral.”
Stone gave him Carly’s number.
They began enacting Teddy and Carly’s plan the next day. The first step was having Joan move the bugged clock from the garden shed to a bookcase in Stone’s office.
Stone eyed it from his desk, still uncertain about having it there. Motion drew his attention to Teddy Fay, who was standing in the doorway, rolling his finger in the air, in a get-on-with-it gesture.
Stone nodded obediently, then activated the intercom, and said, “Joan, who’s first on the call list?”
“Monica Anderson, Emerald River Shipping.”
“Please get her on the line.”
For the next few hours, he spoke to clients, making it sound like he was hard at work, while deftly avoiding confidential topics. Teddy disappeared for a few minutes now and then, but otherwise stayed just outside the room, observing.
A few minutes before noon, Joan buzzed him. “Dino on one.”
Stone hit the speaker button. “Good morning.”
“I’m checking to make sure you’re still alive,” Dino said.
“So far.”
“Good to hear. If that changes, let me know. I’ll need to send my black suit to the cleaners.”
“Your concern is appreciated.”
“Are you going to that dinner on Friday night? Or are you going to continue being a caveman?”
“Bill Eggers would never forgive me if I missed it. You were invited?”
“Not me, Viv. I’m going as her plus one. I assume Carly is yours.”
“We are each other’s.”
“That’s convenient.”
“It is,” Stone said. “Friday’s still a few days away. I assume you’ll be hungry before then.”
“Past history says yes.”
“You and Viv are welcome to have dinner here tonight.”
“Great. Seven?”
“See you then.”
Stone hung up, and then called Joan. “I’m going to grab lunch. I’ll be back at two.”
“I’ll make sure things don’t burn down in your absence.”
Teddy Fay stepped out of the way so Stone could exit his office, and then followed him to the study. Carly was there already, waiting for them.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Good, as far as I could tell,” Stone said.
Teddy nodded. “Exactly as scripted.”
“You’re sure the bug picked everything up?” Stone asked.
“Each and every word.” Teddy’s occasional absences had been due to him checking equipment he’d set up in another room, to monitor what the bugs were recording and if they were transmitting properly.
Stone’s cell phone rang with a call from Dino. He put it on speaker.
“Well?” Dino said.
“You’re a natural,” Teddy said.
“Maybe I should get a headshot and send it to a certain movie studio in Hollywood. I would hate for my talent to go unappreciated by the masses.”
“I was speaking of your voice. As they say, you have a face for radio.”
“He could be a character actor,” Carly said.
“Don’t encourage him,” Stone said.
“Call me if you require an encore performance,” Dino said and then hung up.
“So, what now?” Carly asked.
“Now, we eat lunch,” Teddy said. “Then it will be your moment to shine.”
Chapter 63
Sarge entered the suite at the Four Seasons that was serving as his mission headquarters and headed straight to where Deacon, his sound expert, was set up.
“I got a message that the bugs are working,” Sarge said.
Deacon removed his headphones and smiled. “Oh, yeah.”
“Since when?”
“Around nine am. I didn’t get around to checking until right before I called you.” Deacon’s excitement slipped a little. “Sorry. It’s just we hadn’t—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Since the conversation they’d heard right after the clock had been delivered days earlier, the bug had picked up nothing else. The same was true of the listening devices in the wine basket.
“Do you know why it’s working now?” Sarge asked.
Deacon shrugged. “I guess they got around to finding a place for the clock.”
That had to be it. The Sarge had used the bugs before against more formidable opponents and never once had they been detected. No way an uptown lawyer like Barrington would find them.