water,” she said. “Martinis don’t mix well with my afternoons.”
“A bottle of Pellegrino,” Stone said to the waiter. “Tell me, what did you do when you were at the CIA?”
“You know the old joke about if I told you I’d have to kill you?”
“Sure.”
“Nothing of the sort. I was an analyst until Kate unearthed me and put me to work for her office. I would have to kill you if I told you, if I told you what I did for her.”
“And at the White House?”
“Her deputy chief of staff.”
“I was around the West Wing from time to time, but I never saw you there.”
“I was camped out in the Executive Office Building, working my ass off.”
“Ah.”
“Today, only the real estate has changed,” she said, “but I have more working space—I’m now in a car salesman’s office.”
“And what do you do for Kate now? Or would you have to kill me if you tell?”
“Whatever she asks,” Ann replied. “Officially, I’m a deputy campaign manager.”
“You seem to be a deputy a lot.”
“It’s the deputies who do the dirty work and bury the bodies. The campaign manager just stands in front of TV cameras and denies all knowledge.”
“Are you optimistic about Kate’s chances in the remaining primaries and the convention?”
“I’d still be at the White House if I weren’t. I’d say, just between you and me, that there is a better-than-even chance that your friend Kate is going to be the next POTUS.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Stone said. He looked up and saw Herbie making his way across the dining room, stopping here and there to shake a hand.
“Here comes our lunch companion,” Stone said. “Now you’ll meet someone you might want to hire if you win and work for if you don’t.”
10
They were on dessert when Ann Keaton looked at her watch. “Uh-oh, gotta get out of here,” she said. “Not that you two haven’t been wonderful company and a nice break from my particular grind. Herb, very good to meet you. You’ve got my card, and I’ll look for your check later today.”
They both stood up and shook her hand.
“Remember your promise,” Stone said.
“No job for you,” she replied, then she was off.
Stone sat down. “Whew!”
“Brisk, isn’t she?” Herbie said. “And this has been the most expensive free lunch I’ve ever had.”
“She fleeced you pretty quickly, didn’t she? How would you like a job as New York State campaign coordinator of attorneys?”
“I wouldn’t,” Herbie said.
“The contribution was a good idea. Make another one after the convention, it will stand you in good stead. After all, you might need the White House on your side someday.”
“God, I hope not.” Herbie reached into a pocket and came out with an envelope. “Here’s a notarized copy of Don Dugan’s executed settlement agreement. Get Ms. Hart to sign and have it notarized today, and messenger it back to me. A judge in family court owes me a favor, so we can get this done next week.”
“Thank you, Herb,” Stone said, pocketing the envelope.
“I talked to somebody who knows Dugan, and I understand he’s somebody to be avoided, has a tendency to get into fights and win them.”
“A bad combination of character traits.”
“It is, if you’re, ah, ‘seeing’ the guy’s ex-wife.”
“You choose your words well.”
“I’d hate to see you get caught in the Dugan meat grinder,” Herbie said. “I don’t have time for hospital visits or attending funerals.”
“I will do my best to avoid both those locales.”
Herbie consulted his watch. “I need to get going before the check comes. Get that executed agreement back to me, pronto!” They shook hands, and he left.
Stone called Crane Hart.
“Yes?”
“It’s Stone. I have the settlement agreement ready for your signature, and it must be notarized. Can you come by my office right away? We need to get this wrapped up this afternoon, and we can make everything final next week.”
“Wow! You really get things done, don’t you?”
“Getting things done is what I do. Half an hour?”
“See you there.”
Stone signed the bill and left a cash tip; the waiters liked it that way.
—
Crane signed the document, and Joan notarized it. “So I’ll see you in court next week?”
“Nope, you’ll see Herb Fisher in court. You’ll see me a lot sooner than that. Tonight?”
“Sorry, I’ve got to visit a policyholder in Greenwich this evening about his claim, and I’ll be back late.”
“Come over tomorrow night, and I’ll cook dinner for you.”
“What time?”
“Seven. Bring your toothbrush and a change of socks, and we’ll make a weekend of it.”
“You’re on.” She left,