Fast and Loose Read online

  “That’s pretty much what happened.”

  “You’re kidding. I made that up.”

  “You must be psychic. The owner of the yacht is Dr. Paul Carlsson, of the Carlsson Clinic—and his daughter.”

  “What happened to your yacht?”

  “She lies in a watery grave at the bottom of Penobscot Bay.”

  “That’s sad—pretty boat.”

  “Listen, can you still hijack that police helicopter whenever you like?”

  “Whenever I like, sometimes.”

  “Why don’t you do that this afternoon and get them to drop you here? Weekend’s coming up, and it’s nice and cool here.”

  “Put me down for a yes. I’ll check with Viv and confirm, if you’ll hang on for a moment.” He put Stone on hold, then came back. “I talked her into it, and the chopper’s available. We’ll aim for five o’clock.”

  “I’ll meet you at the airstrip. The Carlssons are coming to dinner. They’re nice folks.”

  “We’ll look forward to it. Bye.” Dino hung up.

  Stone told Mary to order more lobsters.

  —

  STONE STOOD BY the lovely old 1938 Ford station wagon that was the house car and watched the NYPD helicopter settle onto the runway. The copilot got out and dumped the Bacchettis’ luggage onto the tarmac, then got back in and the chopper lifted off and turned southwest, toward New York.

  Stone kissed Viv, shook Dino’s hand, and the three of them loaded the bags into the wagon. As they drove away, another helicopter, one Stone recognized from a charter service at Rockland airport, set down on the runway. He didn’t see who got out.

  “I hear Paul Carlsson is coming to dinner,” Viv said. “I met him at some event last year. He was charming, and he has a charming daughter, too.”

  “They’re both coming,” Stone said.

  “It’s about time. You’ve been without female companionship for too long.”

  “You’re not going to get an argument from me about that.”

  3

  Erik Macher marched himself into the late Christian St. Clair’s library/office, which was undergoing the final touches of repair, and sat down at a leather-topped library table already occupied by four serious-looking men.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” Macher said, careful to speak respectfully.

  The four nodded and mumbled something. They were the chairman of the board, two directors, and the corporate counsel of St. Clair Enterprises, and Macher was there to let them know, as gently as possible, that he would be running things from now on. Their agreement was crucial to him.

  “I assume you all received the documents I sent you.”

  They all nodded.

  “And I assume you read Mr. St. Clair’s will, which was prepared by the law firm of Mr. Berenson, our corporate counsel.”

  “That is so,” Berenson said, “and it was signed and witnessed in my presence.” The others merely nodded.

  “Mr. Berenson, was I a party to drawing up the will, and did I discuss it at any time with you or any of your people?”

  “No, and no,” Berenson replied. “I am satisfied that the will is authentic and correctly represents the wishes of Mr. St. Clair.”

  “Thank you,” Macher said. “Do any of you have any questions about the preparation and intent of the will?”

  Heads were shaken.

  “Thank you.”

  “Mr. Macher,” the chairman said, “I have a question.”

  “Please ask it, sir.”

  “What is the purpose of this meeting?”

  Macher took a document from his briefcase and distributed copies to the four men. “The purpose is to pass this motion, appointing me as permanent chief executive officer of St. Clair Enterprises. Do I hear a second?”

  The chairman looked up from the document. “This gives you extraordinarily broad and deep powers in the operation of the various companies and us very little oversight.”

  “That is quite true,” Macher said, “and that is in line with the way Mr. St. Clair ran the enterprises and wished to have them run in the event of his death, is it not, Mr. Berenson?” Macher had met with Berenson earlier and acquired his cooperation, in return for the continuation of his firm’s handling of all the enterprises’ legal work.

  “It is entirely in line with both Mr. St. Clair’s past practices and his wishes for the enterprises to continue to be operated,” Berenson said.

  The chairman shifted in his seat. “It also says that the board will serve at the pleasure of the CEO and that he will appoint replacements as necessary.”

  “It does,” Macher replied. “I would like to mention that I have no plans to change the way the board is presently made up or has operated in the past.”

  That caused a few wrinkles to disappear from the chairman’s forehead.

  “Or in the board’s compensation,” Macher added. He could see on their faces that that had done the trick.

  “I second the motion,” the chairman said, “and I call for it to be passed by acclamation.”

  “Hear! Hear!” the four said in unison.

  “Thank you for your expression of confidence, gentlemen,” Macher said. “There is no further business at this time, but we will meet again in accordance with the existing schedule of board meetings.” That was annually. “I should tell you that, in the interests of efficiency, I shall be occupying this house and conducting business from this room, when I am in New York. Since Mr. St. Clair’s will left all his residences and other possessions to St. Clair Enterprises, I shall also be using them as necessary.” This, of course, included the yacht, but he didn’t mention it. “Is there any further business, gentlemen?”

  “There is the question of your own compensation and benefits package,” the chairman said.

  “Mr. Berenson’s firm is working on that as we speak, and he will see that you are notified when the work is complete.”

  “That is so,” Berenson said.

  “Then if there are no other matters before us, this meeting is concluded. Thank you for your continued work and cooperation, gentlemen.” He stood, causing them to stand as well, and after shaking hands, they filed out. Berenson, as previously agreed, remained.

  “Thank you, Tommy,” Macher said. “I thought that went very well.”

  “So did I, Erik.”

  “You may now send the prepared letters to all the operating officers of the various enterprises, and the general letter to all employees, including the staffs of the properties, and the crews of the yacht, the helicopter, and the fleet of aircraft. I think it’s important that everyone understand that, for purposes of continuity and morale, a new regime is now in place.”

  “I agree entirely, Erik,” Berenson said. “They will all go out by FedEx within the hour.”

  “Incidentally, Tommy, you may prepare a letter from me doubling your personal salary as counsel with immediate effect, and I will sign it upon receipt.”

  “Thank you for that expression of your confidence, Erik.”

  Macher handed him a sheet of paper. “Here is a list of all credit accounts previously available only to Christian, which should be notified that I am now the sole signatory. There is also my bank account number, to which my signing bonus and my first year’s salary should be deposited, and a list of credit cards for the bank to issue to me and my secretary.”

  “Of course. I’ll see that the signing bonus is deposited today.”

  The signing bonus was twenty-five million dollars, and Macher’s salary was ten million dollars a year, plus an unlimited expense account. “Thank you, and I expect we’ll talk soon.”

  The two men shook hands, and Berenson departed.

  Macher walked to the new desk that had replaced the previous one destroyed in the explosion and began unpacking the boxes that he had had sent from his office in D.C., which included his files and personal photographs. He placed his belongings in the appropriate drawers and arrayed the sterling-silver-framed photographs on the new creden
za behind him.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Come in!”

  His secretary entered the room. “I saw that the board had left,” she said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Are you quite comfortable in your new rooms upstairs, Hilda?”

  “Yes, sir, they are very nice.”

  “Your salary increase will be in effect from this day, and new credit cards have been ordered for you. You may open an account with the company’s bank today.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Macher. I’m very pleased to be working with you in New York.”

  “I am pleased, too, Hilda.”

  She left, and Macher leaned back in his new chair and placed his feet on his desk. He had never felt so good. Things could not have gone better if he had planned St. Clair’s death himself.

  4

  Stone called Ed Rawls and invited him to dinner.

  “Thanks, I could use the break,” Ed replied. “Unpacking is a bitch.”

  “See you at six?”

  “You’re on.”

  —

  STONE LET HIMSELF into Dick Stone’s secret office, behind a panel, and checked for messages and faxes. He had just come out and locked the door behind him when the front doorbell rang. He went to answer it and found a small woman wearing a headset and carrying a microphone. Behind her stood a man carrying a portable TV camera.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Barrington. I’m Tina Charles from NBC news. You’re a hard man to find—we’ve been driving all over the island looking for your house.”

  “I must remember to conceal it better,” Stone said.

  “May I come in for a moment? I have just a few questions for you.”

  “You may not. I have no wish to be interviewed.”

  “May I point out that, if you speak to me exclusively that will greatly lessen the curiosity of other media outlets, and there are many who wish to speak with you.”

  “How did you get to the island?”

  “The station has a helicopter. We landed right after the NYPD chopper, but we didn’t have a car and lost you while we were arranging for one.”

  “I’ll give you five minutes,” Stone said.

  The woman came in and briefly surveyed the room. “You’ll sit there,” she said, pointing at a chair, “and I’ll sit opposite you in the other chair.” She began moving the two chairs to positions she liked. “Okay, Bernie?” she asked the cameraman.

  “Aces,” the man replied. “Light is good.”

  She clipped a tiny wireless microphone to Stone’s shirt collar. “Give me a level,” she ordered.

  Stone counted slowly to five.

  “Level is good,” the cameraman said.

  “And sit.” She took his wrist and towed him to the chair, and they both sat down. She took off her headset and dropped it beside the chair, then fluffed her hair with both hands and freshened her lipstick.

  Stone watched, increasingly bored. Then it occurred to him that he should seem alert on camera and, if possible, engaged. He made an effort to brighten his mien.

  “Now,” Tina said. “Title. This is Tina Charles at the Maine home of Mr. Stone Barrington. We’re on.” She stated the date and time. “Mr. Barrington, there have been many rumors floating around about your involvement in the deaths of the billionaire Christian St. Clair and his political protégé, Nelson Knott.”

  “Hold it right there,” Stone said, raising a hand. “I had no involvement whatever in their deaths. I met them only once each.”

  “Let’s start with Mr. St. Clair. Where did you meet him?”

  “About a mile from here in that direction,” he said, pointing toward the water. “He was aboard his yacht with some people, and he called and invited me and a friend to dinner. I accepted.”

  “Who was your friend?”

  “Irrelevant. Next question?”

  “Did you also meet Nelson Knott on Mr. St. Clair’s yacht?”

  “Yes, but not until the following day. I spent one night aboard the yacht and then, at my request, was put ashore.”

  “Did you know at that time that Mr. Knott was going to run for President?”

  “He alluded to the possibility, and he seemed very interested in extracting campaign donations from two other guests aboard.”

  “And who were they?”

  “You’d have to ask them.”

  Tina was looking a bit frustrated now. “All right, let’s turn to this strong box thing.”

  “It’s called a strong case.”

  “What is it?”

  “A sort of large, very secure briefcase.”

  “And it passed through your hands on its way to Mr. St. Clair?”

  “It spent a night or two in my safe, then my client removed it to his home.”

  “Then how did it get to Mr. St. Clair?”

  “Two gentlemen visited my client’s home, pointed a gun at him, and demanded he give them the strong case or be shot. He complied.”

  “And did he explain that it had to be opened in a certain way or it would explode?”

  “If he knew that, he was not given an opportunity to explain it. The two men left hurriedly.”

  “And where did the case go then?”

  “Eventually, to Mr. St. Clair, it would seem. I don’t know how many stops it made along the way.”

  “And Mr. St. Clair tried to open the strong case, then it exploded?”

  “I believe that was the testimony of a witness who was with him at the time.”

  “And that would be Mr. Erik Macher?”

  “According to the New York Times,” he said. “That is my source of information. Didn’t you read it?”

  “Well, yes. Why did the strong case explode?”

  “If you read the Times, you know what I know.”

  “Who owned the strong case?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But it was in your client’s possession?”

  “For a brief time. Two attempts were made to steal it, the last successful.”

  “And who was your client?”

  “I’m sorry, that’s privileged information.”

  “You’re not being very helpful, Mr. Barrington.”

  Stone smiled slightly. “I’m not trying to be.”

  “Don’t you think the viewing public is entitled to know everything about this event?”

  “I’m not at all sure that they are,” Stone replied. “It might be best if you consulted the authority investigating the event, instead of me. I’m just a bystander.”

  “But you’re a witness.”

  “That is incorrect. I was not present when these events occurred.”

  “Are you aware that Nelson Knott took his own life?”

  “Again, I read it in the Times. I wasn’t a witness to that, either.”

  “All right, one last question.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes. What was in the strong case?”

  “It was never opened in my presence.”

  “Is it true that there was nothing inside?”

  “No. All indications point to a bomb inside.”

  “Well, we know that, don’t we?”

  “Then why are you asking me?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Barrington. Now back to the studio. And … cut.” She stood up. “Well, that was exasperating.”

  “Is it usually satisfying to chase people all around the northeastern United States and ask them questions to which they don’t have the answers?”

  “Could I have a glass of water, please?”

  Stone went to the bar, retrieved a bottle of water, and handed it to her. “Good day,” he said.

  “May I sit down and drink it?”

  “Certainly, but not in my house. Kindly go away.”

  She gathered up her belongings, including her headset, and bustled out of the house, followed by her technician.

  Dino came down the stairs. “I heard all that from up there,” he said.

  “Good. I’m glad I d
on’t have to re-create the event for you.”

  “Why are all these people wanting to interview you?”

  “Beats me. I guess they can’t think of anybody else to interview.”

  The doorbell rang again, and Stone got up. “Do you have your gun with you, Dino?”

  “It’s upstairs. Why?”

  “If it’s that young woman again, I’d like you to shoot her.” He opened the door and found Ed Rawls standing there.

  5

  Rawls stepped inside; he seemed a little out of breath.

  “Sorry if I’m early,” he said. “I walked over here, and it took less time than I thought.”

  “That’s fine, Ed. Come in. You know Dino.”

  “Hi, Ed.”

  “Evening.” He accepted a large Talisker from Stone. “Have you heard the news?”

  “What news?”

  “Of course you haven’t. What am I thinking?”

  “Hard to tell, Ed. Spit it out.”

  “Oh. You remember one Erik Macher?”

  “I do.”

  “I’ve had news that he has taken over Christian St. Clair’s holdings, personal and business—everything except what St. Clair left his wife.”

  “How could he do that?”

  “He met with the board and, with the support of the corporate counsel, Thomas Berenson, who drew the will and had it witnessed, he got himself appointed CEO, with power to replace board members at will, and he is heir to St. Clair’s personal property that wasn’t left to his wife, including the yacht.”

  Stone poured drinks for himself and Dino while he thought about that, then he sat down. “I know a little about Tommy Berenson’s reputation, and it isn’t all good. If I were a board member, I’d put that will through the wringer.”

  “And you’d be fired and replaced in the blink of an eye. Anyway, with Tommy Berenson backing him, he’s in an impossibly strong position.”

  “Well,” Stone said, “I’m glad I don’t own stock in any of St. Clair’s ventures.”

  “Not even the yacht?”

  “Well, there is that,” Stone admitted.

  “Anyway, none of St. Clair’s businesses are publicly owned. He started with a large fortune from his father and built his empire out of profits.”

  “How do you know so much about St. Clair?”

  “When I was in prison it was sort of my hobby to follow the careers and lives of a number of people,” Ed said. “St. Clair was one of them, and apart from the Internet, I had my own sources with good information to impart.”