“Do I work here?” Herbie asked.
“You do, if you want to,” Cookie said. “I can send it all back, if you don’t like it.”
Herbie went and sat in the beautiful chair and put his feet on the ottoman. His back didn’t hurt. “I like it,” he said. “No, I love it. Where’s all my stuff?”
“In the credenza at your right hand,” she replied. “There are four file drawers and eight ordinary ones.”
Herbie reached to his right and his hand fell on the phone. Next to that was a marble pencil box. He looked around and saw handsomely framed pictures on the walls and a Chinese terra-cotta horse in the center of the coffee table.
“It’s T’ang dynasty,” she said, “about eleven hundred years old.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “Here’s the bill for everything.”
Herbie looked at it: $54,540. “You’re nearly five grand over budget.”
“Tell me what you’d like to send back,” she said.
Herbie looked around. “Absolutely nothing. How’d you get this done so fast?”
“ABC has people who are accustomed to putting together whole rooms for movies and TV commercials in short order. I know one of them.”
“Cookie,” Herbie said, “how’d you like to redo my apartment in your spare time?”
“What’s my budget?”
“You can go to half a million, if you have to, but that won’t include art-I like the art I have.”
“My fee is five percent of what I spend,” she said.
“You’re hired.”
She poured him a cup of coffee, and it tasted much better than it had the day before.
“This isn’t my usual coffee,” he said. “It’s a lot better.”
“I’m glad you like it,” she responded. “Excuse me, I have to get to work on your closing Friday morning.”
“We’ve got a real estate department for that,” Herbie said.
“I know how to put a closing together,” she said, “and it will take me a third less time than if they do it.”
“Then go to work.”
Herbie looked around for his phone messages: there were two, one from Stone Barrington and one from Mike Freeman. He called Mike first, and was surprised when he answered his own phone. “Hey, Mike. Don’t you have a secretary anymore?”
“She doesn’t get in this early,” Mike said. “Only the boss does.”
“Thank you so much for sending your team down to High Cotton,” Herbie said.
“They’re back this morning-they’ve got the whole building to wire.”
“That’s great. With your help, I’ll turn this little venture into a real business.”
“From what Marshall Brennan tells me about their ideas, that will happen very quickly,” Mike said. “Tell me, Herbie, how’d you like a new client?”
“I’d like nothing better!”
“I hired a guy yesterday, and he’s going to set up a new division for me that will specialize in bodyguard training. We’ve always done that for our own people, but now we’re going to offer the training to our clients’ employees. We’ve bought an old road racing track upstate a ways that we’ll turn into a high-performance, defensive-driving school, and there’ll be four firing ranges, too-everything from handguns to automatic weapons.”
“Sounds terrific, Mike. How can I help?”
“I’d like you to create a corporate framework for the division, set up the accounting and a purchasing system for equipment. Though it’s wholly owned, I’d like it to operate like a separate company.”
“I can do that.”
“The guy I’ve hired, who’ll be the CEO, is called Josh Hook. He’s ex-CIA, spent a little over twenty years there, in operations. His experience is broad and deep. I’ll have him call you.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing from him, Mike, and I’ll go ahead and set up the company as a client. You have a name yet?”
“Strategic Defense,” Mike said.
“Got it.”
“You’ll hear from Josh later today.” Mike said goodbye and hung up.
There was a knock, and Herbie looked up to find Bill Eggers leaning against the doorjamb. “What the hell is this?” Eggers asked.
“Come in, Bill, and have a seat.”
“I didn’t authorize you to redecorate,” Eggers said.
“No, and you didn’t pay for it, either,” Herbie pointed out.
“In that case, I’ll have a seat.” He settled into an armchair and looked around. “I didn’t know you had taste this good, Herbert.”
“I don’t,” Herbie said, “but I have good taste in secretaries. She’s out in her cubicle right now setting up a real estate closing for Friday.”
“We have a department for that,” Eggers said.
“She’ll use their checklist, but she can do it faster and cheaper. You can bill High Cotton Ideas for your department.”
“You only got this piece of business yesterday, didn’t you?”
“That’s right, but it’s not a business yet, just a collection of ill-groomed computer geeks. I’m turning it into a business.”
“So I heard. And I hear you’ve got Strategic Services involved, and an architect, too. Are we going to make any money out of this?”
“I billed fifteen hours yesterday, and my associate as many. By the way-thanks. I like Bobby Bentley.”
“Good.” Eggers stood up.
“Oh, and I got a new piece of business this morning.” Herbie told him about his conversation with Mike Freeman.
Eggers listened, nodding, his face not betraying much. “Herbert,” he said, when Herbie had finished. “How much did this new stuff cost?”
Herbie picked up the bill and handed it to him.
Eggers folded the bill and tucked it into his coat pocket. “I’ll take care of this,” he said.
Herbie smiled. “Thank you, Bill. Oh, and I’d like to give my secretary a fifteen percent raise.”
Eggers nodded. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, then he turned and walked back down the hall.
“Cookie!” Herbie yelled. “Get in here!”
18
Herbie Fisher was sitting in his new office, letting the past two days wash over him, luxuriating in his new status, his new clients, and a new kind of self-regard that had always been out of his reach until this moment. His phone buzzed.
“Mr. Joshua Hook to see you,” Cookie said.
“Send him right in,” Herbie replied. He got to his feet as his new client entered his office. The man was six-two or — three, two-twenty, thick salt-and-pepper hair, tanned, and very fit-looking. He looked around Herbie’s office. “Holy shit!” he muttered, half to himself.
“Josh, I’m Herb Fisher. Please have a seat.”
The man gave Herbie a bone-crushing handshake, settled into a big chair, and set his briefcase and a cardboard tube on the coffee table. “This is the first lawyer’s office I’ve ever felt comfortable in,” Josh said.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“If it’s very strong,” he replied.
Herbie poured him a mug. “Try this.”
Josh sipped it. “A man after my own heart,” he said. “This stuff would eat its way through the stomach wall of an ordinary human being.”
Herbie thought the statement said as much about the man himself as about the coffee. “I’m glad you like it. And congratulations on your new job at Strategic Services.”
“I work at Strategic Defense,” Josh said. “Strategic Services just owns me.”
“I understand you had a career at the CIA,” Herbie said.
“I did.”
“What did you do there?”
“None of your fucking business,” Josh replied, coolly.
Herbie laughed. “No, I guess not. I take it you were on the operational side, though-that’s according to Mike Freeman.”
“I would have made a poor support man,” Josh said, “and an even worse analyst.”
Herbie produced a legal pad. “Mike has told me you’ll need to set up a corporate structure. I take it you’ll be CEO?”
“That’s right. Mike will be chairman of the board. If you do decent work I might ask you to join the board.”
Herbie jotted all this down. “I take it there’s a piece of property upstate somewhere.”
Josh popped the end out of the cardboard tube and shook out a thick sheaf of papers. “There is,” he said, “and this is what we’re going to put on it.” He unrolled the papers and tucked one side under Herbie’s T’ang dynasty terra-cotta horse, and Herbie set his marble pencil box on the other end.