Wild Card (Stone Barrington #49)(60)

“You just turned fifty last year,” Stone said.

“Two years ago.”

“Are you contemplating early retirement?”

“No.”

“Do you have an incurable disease?”

“No.”

“Have you come to hate me?”

“No more than usual. Did I mention that she speaks Sicilian?”

“No, and I was grateful for that. Hire her. She can have the apartment next door that got vacated when Fred and Helene got into bed together.”

“Good idea. You’re thinking unusually clearly,” Joan said.

“Have you hired her yet?”

“Not yet.”

“What are you waiting for?”

Joan jumped up and ran.



* * *



? ? ?

    Elise and her mother had just sat down in the Plaza dining room when her cell phone rang—not the throwaway, her regular phone. It suddenly occurred to her that she could answer it.

“Yes? Hi. I’m listening.” She sat back and listened for another two minutes. “Yes,” she said. “Tomorrow. I have to let my mother shop herself out today. Goodbye.” She put away the phone. “Mother?”

“Yes?”

“Breakfast is on me—so is Bloomie’s.”

“Did you get a job?”

“Yes, that was Stone’s secretary. I’m to be her number two, and the money is even better than at H. Thomas, and I get a free apartment.”

“Can I have your apartment? I want to be closer to Bloomingdale’s, now that you’re working again.”

“Yes.”

They each ordered the eggs Benedict and a glass of champagne.



* * *



? ? ?

Rance was at his desk when Henry called. “Get in here.” He hung up.

Rance walked into Henry’s office. Hank was already there. “I talked to Harman Wills,” Henry said. “He had already read the piece, and he thought it was hilarious. The deal is still on.”

Rance and Hank both shook his hand.

“Rance, did you cancel the arrangements you made earlier?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did you get an actual confirmation?”

“Not yet, but I’ll hear from him soon.”

“What were your instructions, if you canceled?”

Rance thought about that.

“It’s my recollection,” Henry said, “that such arrangements could not be canceled, except in person and upon payment in full for the work. Has that changed?”

“No, it hasn’t,” Rance said, and a film of sweat appeared on his upper lip. He checked his phone for messages. “Nothing yet.”

“Go back to your office and call him again,” Henry said. “And keep calling until you speak to him. Draw the cash, and be ready to pay him.”

“Yes, sir,” Rance said, rising.

“You understand, don’t you, that if any one of those people mentioned in the Times is harmed, the deal will be blown, and we’ll all be facing murder charges?”

“I understand,” Rance said. He went back to his office and threw up into his wastebasket, then he made the call. No answer; just a beep. He threw up again.





47


Ari Kramer and Annie Lee went to New Hampshire for the primary election and, late in the day, followed Senator Box around, closely enough that they could hear him speaking to people.

Box was all smiles, and the words Ari had written for him spilled from his lips, without hesitation or errors.

Annie spoke up. “Has it occurred to you that you may have created a monster?”

“More than once,” Ari replied, “but I haven’t seen the thing operate up close before.”

“Scary,” Annie said.

“That’s an excellent word for what I think. I’m tired of this. Why don’t we go back to the motel, order a pizza, and watch the returns on TV?”

“Ari,” Annie said, “I think you’re developing a wit.”

“How so?”

“That sometimes means when you make a remark that sounds perfectly ordinary, but it really means something else.”

They went back to the motel and did something else.



* * *



? ? ?

    At eleven o’clock, their pizza devoured and their other desires met, they switched on the news.

A young woman faced the camera. “Tonight’s big news is that Senator Joseph Box has not only won New Hampshire’s Republican nomination for president but has won by twelve points over his rival. His victory is making national news, and Republicans everywhere are beginning to think they have a new contender for the presidency.

“And, to no one’s surprise, Secretary of State Holly Barker has won the Democratic primary by twenty-two points.”

There followed several clips of comments from as far away as California.

“I guess Mr. Smith is going to be ecstatic,” Annie said.

“William doesn’t seem to get ecstatic,” Ari said. “Nor does he get depressed. He just wants results for his money.”

“And he’s getting that in spades, isn’t he?”