instance,” Lance said.
Stone was caught off guard but tried not to show it.
“Who?”
“That fellow you helped Holly chase all over the island of Saint Marks,” Lance said. “That fellow who took out Yuri Majorov last year. Very nicely done it was, too.”
“Oh, that fellow. How could he possibly get a pardon out of Will Lee?”
“Teddy knows people,” Lance said. “He knows you, for instance. And you owe him.”
“I can’t deny that,” Stone said, “and I’m grateful to him. But that does not translate into a presidential pardon.”
“You haven’t denied it yet, Stone.”
“Denied what?”
“That you got Will Lee to pardon Teddy.”
“Well, just so you won’t interpret silence as confirmation, I deny having anything to do with any such thing as a presidential pardon. I deny asking Will to issue one. Is there anything else you’d like me to deny, Lance? Just tell me what, I’m in a denying mood today.”
Lance actually laughed, something Stone had almost never seen him do. “Thank you for that confirmation, Stone.”
Stone shook his head.
“There are other things I know,” Lance said. “Things that you should know.”
“I’m listening.” Their halibut arrived.
“Your troubles with Majorov are not over,” Lance said.
“What, did someone forget to drive a stake through his heart?”
“Yuri is a member of a clan, Stone. In particular, he has a brother named Yevgeny, who has recently been chosen to replace his brother at the top of his organization.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Stone said.
“That position has been likened to Pope, chosen by a corrupt and dangerous college of cardinals who have their tentacles into just about everything criminal these days. Please forgive the mixed metaphor.”
“You’re forgiven,” Stone said, making the sign of the cross. “Now tell me what I have to worry about.”
“Nothing immediate,” Lance said, “but that hotel your group is building in Paris with Marcel duBois is going to be very tempting to Majorov’s organization.”
“Well, Yuri certainly wanted The Arrington badly enough. You think Yevgeny will follow in his footsteps?”
“I would not be in the least surprised,” Lance said. “Our man in Paris, Rick LaRose, who you know, is keeping a close watch on developments. If he should perceive a threat, Rick will be in touch.”
“I like Rick,” Stone said.
“He will soon be our station chief in Paris,” Lance said, “after a little prep work to shape him up. He will be our youngest station chief.”
“Please congratulate him for me.”
“Wait a couple of weeks, then send him a congratulatory note.”
“I’ll do that,” Stone said.
The rest of their lunch passed in idle chat. Lance had done his probing, and Stone had received his warning.
31
Stone was back at his desk, drowsy from the wine, when Dino called. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“Both of us liked your girl,” Dino said.
“You always like my girls.”
“This one was especially nice. Viv and I both like smart.”
“Now that you mention it, so do I. Stay in touch with her, she could turn out to be someone important at the White House.”
“If Kate wins.”
“If Kate doesn’t win, she’ll just be a political consultant or a lawyer. I’m favoring the latter.”
“Has Eggers met her?”
“I don’t know—not when I was around, but Bill has a very wide acquaintance, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“He does, doesn’t he. You’re turning out to have a wide acquaintance, too.”
“Oh? Who are we talking about.”
“We’re not talking about him—I don’t think you’d want to.”
“Come on, Dino, give.”
“One of my detectives says he recognized an old acquaintance at your robbery scene of last week.”
“By ‘old acquaintance,’ do you mean old perp?”
“That’s it.”
“And who might that be?”
“Your friend Coulter.”
“Coulter is an old perp? You’re kidding. The man is a model of upper-class respectability.”
“My guy says he’s an ex-con named Fratelli. That name ring a bell?”
Stone ran a lot of images of John Fratelli and Jack Coulter across the inside of his eyelids. “The name makes a dull thud, but that guy ain’t Coulter.”
“My guy says the two are one and the same.”
“The only thing they’ve got in common is height,” Stone said. “In every single other way they are very different.”
“My guy says he’s used the money to remake himself.”
Stone knew exactly what money Dino was talking about. “What money?”
“The money from that heist out at Kennedy airport years ago. Eddie Buono was the mastermind.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember that.”
“We talked about Fratelli, remember?”
“No recollection,” Stone replied. The slide show in his frontal lobe was stuck on one image: a three-quarter shot of Coulter’s face, featuring a nose very much like that of Fratelli. Was it possible?
“My guy wanted to fingerprint Coulter—that would end