“I see.”
“Moreover, any profit on the sale of the securities that was necessary to raise your half-million-dollar withdrawal will be subject to ordinary income tax at the full rate, whereas if you had sold something you’d owned for more than a year, you’d have paid the much lower capital gains tax, so you cost yourself some more money there.”
Dink was sweating profusely now.
“Something else, Dink. If that money ended up in a drug dealer’s account in the offshore bank, it is very likely that either the IRS or the FBI, perhaps both, has an informant in that bank who will, you should excuse the expression, rat you out. So there is another federal agency you’ll be scrutinized by in the coming weeks and months. I strongly suggest that, in addition to an accountant, you call Herb Fisher and ask him to recommend a criminal lawyer.”
“Dad, let me explain all this.”
“Dink, it’s very important that you not explain it to me, because communication between us is not subject to any kind of privilege, and I could be forced to testify against you before a grand jury or in a court of law. You can explain it to your criminal lawyer, with whom such communication is privileged. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, is there anything else I can do for you today?”
“No, sir,” Dink said, rising. “I’ll go see Herb Fisher right now.”
Marshall watched his son leave and tried not to weep.
60
The evening of Mark Hayes’s party at High Cotton Ideas arrived, and Herbie hired a driver and picked up Marshall Brennan on his way there.
“No date tonight, Herb?” Marshall asked.
“You’re my date tonight, Marshall. How are you?”
Marshall sighed. “I’m afraid Dink may have gotten himself into some new trouble. Did he call you?”
“No, I haven’t heard from him since he stopped by my office for a drink last week.”
“I was afraid of that. He’s going to need a criminal lawyer.”
“What has he done?”
Marshall explained about Dink’s half-million-dollar error in judgment.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Herbie said.
“What scares me is that the money might already have been paid to a drug dealer, and that Dink may be taking delivery of something that could get him life in prison.”
“I understand your concern, Marshall, but I can’t pursue this with him unless it’s his idea. I hope he’ll call me, and if he does, I’ll do everything I can to help him out of this mess.”
“Thank you, Herb.”
They arrived at the High Cotton building and drove into the garage, then took the elevator to the penthouse apartment. Herbie was stunned when the doors opened to a huge living room, beautifully designed and furnished. Everyone, even Mark’s young colleagues, was in black tie, and the women were gorgeously dressed.
James Rutledge, the architect, came to greet them. “Good evening, Herb, Mr. Brennan. Your son arrived a few minutes ago.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Marshall replied.
“Jim, you’ve done a spectacular job on this place, in an amazingly short time,” Herbie said.
“There are half a dozen design writers here tonight,” Rutledge said. “ Architectural Digest has already committed to a multi-page spread on both the offices and the house. Be sure and see the upper floor.”
“Will do,” Herbie replied. He and Marshall got drinks and wandered around the room. Herbie spotted Dink, there with a beautiful girl, and so did Marshall, but neither made a move to speak to him.
Stone Barrington walked over with Marla Rocker in tow. “Hey, Herb.” He swept an arm. “See what you have wrought.”
“I’m terribly impressed with myself,” Herbie said, and everybody laughed.
Mike Freeman joined them. “Hello, Herb.”
“Mike, how are you?”
“Just great. Did you spot my security people around the place?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Then I’ve done my work well. You’ll probably run into Josh Hook, who is personally supervising the crew. All the cameras are in operation, too, so none of the guests had better lift anything.”
Dino Bacchetti got off the elevator with a beautiful woman in what Herbie thought must be an Armani dress. Dino’s arm was still in a sling, but he looked well. Greetings were exchanged, and drinks were snagged from passing waiters. He shook Herbie’s hand. “I’d like you to meet Vivian DeCarlo,” he said, and she offered her hand.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, and thank you for saving Dino’s ass last week.”
“It was my pleasure,” Viv replied, smiling.
“No date tonight?” Stone asked.
“Just Marshall,” Herbie replied.
“No Allison?”
“Allison bowed out,” Herbie said, shrugging. “She felt that having an office relationship wasn’t good for her career.”
“She’s probably right,” Stone said.
A waiter passed, paging the guests to a large buffet dinner set up in the dining room. Everyone got a plate and a glass of wine and found seats.
Mark Hayes came by and welcomed everyone. “I want to thank you, Herb,” he said, “for making this happen.”
“It was more of a pleasure than I can tell you,” Herbie replied. “And you’re welcome. How’s the software going?”
“We’re out of beta and on the market,” Mark said, “and the reviews have been amazing.”
“I smell an IPO coming,” Herbie said.
“You have a good nose-hang on to your stock.”
“I certainly will.”
“The IPO is going to be something,” Marshall said. “There’s great anticipation in the industry and in the investment world, too.”
“Then maybe I’ll hang on to my stock for a few years, instead of dumping it on day one,” Herbie said.
“Good idea.”
After dinner, Herbie and Marshall climbed a broad staircase to the upper floor of the penthouse and wandered around. They found themselves alone in the master bedroom.
“I’m sure there’s a john around here somewhere,” Marshall said. “Excuse me while I find it.”
Herbie stepped out onto the bedroom’s terrace and was amazed at the view north. It was a cool night, clear of any haze, and the city’s skyline looked like a gigantic movie set. He leaned on the railing and took it all in.
“Well, Herb,” he heard a voice behind him say, so he turned around.
Dink Brennan was standing there, uncomfortably close to him. “Hello, Dink,” he said. He put a hand on Dink’s chest and pushed slightly. “Back off just a little, will you?”
Dink took hold of Herbie’s wrist and twisted a little. “This is good,” he said. “Did you take a look over the rail?”
“No, I didn’t,” Herbie said, trying to free his hand.
“Straight drop, seven or eight stories to the alley,” Dink said. “I’ve been waiting for a moment like this with you.”
Herbie was backed up against the rail, with Dink only inches from him, so he didn’t have much room to swing. He closed his free left hand and aimed a straight punch to Dink’s nose, but Dink saw it coming and turned his head back, and the blow glanced off his cheek.
“Good,” he said. “That makes this self-defense.” Still holding the wrist, he hooked his other hand into Herbie’s trousers and lifted him off his feet. Herbie swung his left again, to no great effect, and he found himself sitting, precariously, on the railing. He grabbed it with his left hand and hung on for dear life. It was clear that Dink was not kidding.
Then, with a push of both hands, Dink sent Herbie backward, off the railing. For a moment, Herbie clung with his left hand, but his body twisted from his momentum, and he lost his grip and started down.
“Bye-bye, Herb,” Dink was saying.
A few feet down, Herbie flailed into a length of pipe jutting perhaps eighteen inches from the building. He had time to think that it must be a drain for the deck. He got one hand on it and dangled, trying to stop his yawing and get the other hand onto the pipe.