Hot Mahogany (4 page)

“Goddard-Townsend built six or seven of them. Barton has two — or rather, one. Maybe. He built the other one himself, with a little help from his friends. Nobody can tell it from the original, maybe even not Barton.”

“Because of his amnesia?”

“Because of the quality of the workmanship, according to Barton. One of them was, apparently, in the van when it was stolen.”

“Which one? The reproduction or the original?”

“Barton doesn’t know. Not that it would matter, since not even an expert can tell the difference.”

Lance put his face in his hands. “This is preposterous,” he said.

“I know just how you feel,” Stone said, “and he’s not even my brother.”

“Is he still in any sort of danger?”

“Not as long as whoever attacked him thinks he’s dead, or doesn’t know about the other secretary.”

“Why does he think the secretary is worth twenty-five million dollars?”

“Because the last one sold brought twelve million, and that was in 1989. Consult the Department of Labor’s consumer price index for the rate of inflation, and ponder on how many crazy billionaires there are running around these days, spending zillions on everything from jet airplanes to New York penthouses. They have to furnish those penthouses with
something
, don’t they?”

“Stone, if this is some wild tale you’ve dreamed up, I’ll have you shot; I swear I will. I can do that.”

“Lance,” Dino said.

“You, too, Dino.”

“Don’t point that thing at
me
,” Dino said. “This is Stone’s story; I don’t know any more about it than you do. I have only Stone’s word for it, and… well, you know.”

“Thanks, Dino,” Stone said

“God, I’m tired,” Lance said. “I haven’t slept since the day before yesterday.”

“Lance,” Stone said, “go to my house, find a guest room and get some sleep. There’s a key under the stone lion on the stoop.”

“Maybe,” Lance said.

“What’s the alternative? Faint in the street? You have a car and driver, don’t you?”

“I think so,” Lance said.

Stone thought he was fading fast. “Well, with your last remaining strength, go fall into it and give the driver my address. You know it, don’t you?”

“I used to. Yes, I know it.”

“Quickly, Lance, while your lips will still move.”

Lance nodded, got up and, without another word, walked out of the restaurant.

“It will all seem clearer to him tomorrow,” Dino said.

“No, it won’t,” Stone replied.

8

When Stone got out of the cab in front of his house he saw a huge black SUV idling at the curb. He put his key into the front door lock, turned it and walked into the entrance hall to find a man, braced against the living room doorjamb, pointing an evil-looking automatic weapon at him. “Good evening,” Stone said. “May I direct you to the silver?”

“Let’s see some I.D.,” the man said.

“Go fuck yourself,” Stone said, brushing past him. “I live here, and I’m going to bed.” He got into the elevator and pressed the button. As the door closed, the man was still standing there, pointing the weapon at him, trying to decide whether to fire. Stone didn’t care; it had been a long day.

The following morning, as Stone was finishing breakfast, Lance Cabot came into the kitchen, looking refreshed.

“I borrowed one of your shirts and some underwear,” he said, taking a stool at the kitchen counter.

Helene, Stone’s housekeeper, looked at Lance closely. “You look younger today,” she said.

“Thank you, my dear,” Lance replied, “but that was my elder brother, yesterday.”

“Oh,” Helene said, setting eggs, bacon and a buttered English muffin before him.

“Do you eat this way every day?” Lance asked Stone, as he dug into the food. “Why don’t you weigh four hundred pounds?”

“Slim genes,” Stone said. “Feeling better?”

“Better but not less confused. Give me directions to Barton’s house.”

Stone complied. “Would your jackbooted thugs like some breakfast?”

“They’re very self-sufficient,” Lance replied. “I expect they’ve already eaten.”

“One of them pointed a machine gun at me last night. In my own home.”

“Sorry about that; my new rank requires a complement of security only slightly less unwieldy than that of the president. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“He didn’t fire,” Stone said. “If I had been after you, you’d be dead now.”

“I’m my own last line of defense. Anyway, I told him not to shoot you, or he would have. Believe me.”

“If you say so. I don’t need a demonstration.”

Lance finished his breakfast and turned to his coffee. “That was excellent, my dear,” he said to Helene.

Helene turned red and batted her eyelashes.

“Barton spoke Greek to Helene,” Stone said. “Did you know he could do that?”

“Latin, too,” Lance said, “since prep school. Did Barton say anything about why he left the Marine Corps?” Lance asked.

“I’ve told you everything he said,” Stone replied.

“After I got this job I ordered his service record from the Pentagon, but they said it was sealed.”

“Did they say why?”

“They don’t know why; the management has changed since then. They just know it’s sealed.”

“The military mind at work.”

“Well, yes, I guess you could call it that. You were inside Barton’s house?”

“Yes. It’s very impressive.”

“Was there any sign of a woman?”

“There was no sign of anyone, but it was very neat, and I doubt that he does his own housework. There must be a woman, even if she’s hired.”

“Come on, Stone, you’re a better observer than that. Tell me something I can use.”

“Use for what?”

“For figuring out what’s going on with Barton.”

“The kitchen has all the latest stainless-steel stuff. He has a study that he imported from a country house in the north of England and reassembled.”

“You’re not being helpful.”

“Those were the only two rooms I was in. For all I know, he has a harem stashed upstairs, or a Boy Scout troop.”

“The harem would be more like him. Barton always liked women.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“He often made it a bad thing; it was his only weakness.”

“I don’t know what deductions you expect from me, Lance. He seems to have a lot of money. Did he inherit it?”

“I don’t know; I never saw my father’s will. The banker who was my trustee wouldn’t show it to me. I didn’t get control of my inheritance until I was thirty, and by then I hadn’t seen Barton for years. I don’t know what our father left him.”

“Was your father a wealthy man?”

“He seemed to be. God knows, he lived well. There was the house, I suppose, and there must have been some investments. I mean, he left me
something
. He was very clever about how he did it. His instructions to his executor, I was told, were to give me as much as I earned each year, so I was twice as well off as my peers. But you don’t earn all that much, working for the government.”

“Well, Barton must have had enough capital to get started in the antiques business. He couldn’t have made all that much in the military.”

“I suppose,” Lance sighed. He stood up. “Well, I’m off to Connecticut to confront my errant brother. I should be saving the world, but I’m going to Connecticut.”

“Lance, with a cell phone and an Internet connection, you ought to be able to save the world from anywhere, even Connecticut.”

Lance left.

Stone’s secretary, Joan Robertson, buzzed him in the kitchen.

Stone picked up the phone. “Good morning,” he said.

“Bob Cantor is on the phone with you. He wants to have lunch.”

“When?”

“Noon, at P. J. Clarke’s.”

“Okay.” Stone hung up. Bob Cantor was a retired cop who did P.I. work, especially the technical kind, for Stone. Bob had never wanted to have lunch before, Stone recalled. Why now?

P. J. Clarke’s was already crowded when Stone got there. Cantor waved him over to a table, and they shook hands.

“Drink?”

“I’ll have a beer with my bacon cheeseburger, medium,” Stone replied.

Cantor ordered for them.

“What’s up, Bob?” Stone asked.

“Barton Cabot,” Cantor replied.

It took a moment for the penny to drop. “You’ve talked with Dino.”

“Right.”

“How much did he tell you?”

“That somebody beat him up.”

“What’s your interest in Barton Cabot?”

“I served under him in ’Nam,” Cantor replied.

“I guess I knew you were in Vietnam.”

“I was a squad leader in his company, and later, I got a battlefield commission, after he made colonel and got a regiment, and I led a platoon. When my company commander was killed, the Colonel made me acting C.O. Is Colonel Cabot all right?”

“Far as I know,” Stone said. “His brother went up to Connecticut to see him this morning.”

“He has a brother?”

“Yep.”

“If Colonel Cabot needs anything, will you let me know?”

“Have you kept in touch with him over the years?”

“No. He dropped out of sight after he got home. I heard he’d resigned from the Corps. I just want to know that he’s okay. The man saved my life four or five times.”

“That’s a lot.”

“We got shot at a lot.”

“Bob, Cabot’s brother tells me he was in line to make general. Do you have any idea why he resigned from the Marine Corps?”

Cantor looked away. “Maybe,” he said.

9

Stone looked across the table at Cantor, who seemed to be hav- ing trouble establishing eye contact. “Bob, what do you mean by
maybe
?”

“You know what
maybe
means, Stone: It means ‘maybe so, maybe not.’ ”

“Is that why you invited me to lunch, Bob? So you could jerk me around?”

“Look, all I want to know is if the Colonel is all right.”

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

A rather attractive woman at the next table looked at Stone, shocked.

“Just a figure of speech,” Stone said to her. “All zippers remain at high mast.”

She looked back at her salad, blushing.

Stone turned back to Cantor. “You first.”

“This goes no further?” Cantor asked.

“No further.”

“I don’t think he would want his brother to know.”

“I won’t tell him,” Stone said.

Their food arrived, and Cantor took the moment to fiddle with his napkin and sip his beer.

“Our food is getting cold, Bob,” Stone said.

“All right. Toward the end of our third tour together the Colonel came across something valuable, something that belonged to the South Vietnamese government.”

“What was it?” Stone asked, wondering if the South Vietnamese government had possessed an eighteenth-century mahogany secretary from Goddard-Townsend of Newport.

“Let’s just say it was a fairly liquid asset.”

“Stop being coy, Bob.”

“Look, I’m trying to clue you in without causing you any problems, all right?”

“Problems?”

“It would not be conducive to your personal safety to know everything I know.”

“Well, I’m very fond of my personal safety, so just tell me what you can without getting me killed.”

“Like I said, we came across this fairly liquid asset, and we figured that the South Vietnamese government was about to be overrun by the North Vietnamese government, and we didn’t want to see it fall into their hands, so that they could use it against Americans.”

“So your motives for… liberating it were entirely patriotic?”

“Not entirely,” Cantor admitted, “but we did see that it remained in American hands.”

“Whose hands?”

“Our hands.”

“How many of you were there?”

“Six,” Cantor said, “including the Colonel.”

“And you all benefited equally from this item or items remaining in American hands?”

“Not exactly equally, but everybody was pretty much satisfied with the arrangement.”

“
Pretty much satisfied
? That means that at least one of you was pretty much dissatisfied, doesn’t it?”

“You could look at it that way.”

“Bob, how much did you, personally, benefit from this… patriotic act?”

“Let me put it this way, Stone: You’ve been in my shop.”

Stone had indeed been in Cantor’s shop, which was filled with exotic electronic equipment. “I have.”

“You and I are on pretty much the same pension. Where did you think I got the wherewithal to own, say, two, three hundred grand’s worth of gear?”

“I suppose it crossed my mind. I thought maybe you inherited something from somebody.”

“My father pressed pants on Seventh Avenue. Inherit?”

“Okay, I get the picture. How much better did the Colonel do than you?”

“It was the Colonel’s deal: He took half; the other five of us took equal splits of the other half.”

“And how did you transport this windfall back to the States?”

“Safely,” Cantor said. “By governmental means, you might say. We didn’t do the split until it was on these shores and not on government property any more.”

“How wise of you.”

“It wasn’t us; the Colonel is a very wise man. He found a way to convert the, ah, discovery, to cash, and at something close to its actual value.”

“So what went wrong?”

“What makes you think something went wrong?”

“Bob, the Colonel had an outstanding war; he was up for general. It is what every Marine officer at his level lives and breathes for; but he resigned his commission.”

“Well, yeah, there was that.”

“Why?”

“He had his reasons.”

“Come on, Bob, what were they?”

“Some brass hat got suspicious.”

“Was there an investigation?”

“Yes.”

“Were you investigated?”

“No, none of us, only the Colonel.”

“And what did the investigation determine?”

“Nothing. They couldn’t prove a thing. Well, not much of anything.”

“What did the investigation prove?”

“It was like this: There was going to be a court martial, but the brass hat running things offered the Colonel a deal. He could cough up the proceeds — all the proceeds — and have the charges dropped and, maybe, get his promotion.”