Dishonorable Intentions by Stuart Woods

the first time he and Tirov had been in the same place since the incident at his pool at the Bel-Air Arrington.
    He saw Tirov enter the men’s room and two plainclothes security men take up station outside. Stone walked through the door and found Tirov alone there, zipping his fly and heading for a sink to wash his hands.
    â€œFancy meeting you here, Barrington,” he said, glancing at him in the mirror.
    Stone checked his tie in the mirror. “I thought I’d give you an opportunity to take another swing at me while you’re still sober,” he said.
    â€œAnd have your security goons all over me?”
    â€œI’ll see that they don’t interfere.”
    â€œHow did Gala enjoy her visit from the Three Bears?” Tirov asked.
    â€œHow did you enjoy being banned from Centurion Studios, the Bel-Air Country Club, and the Arrington, all on the same day?”
    â€œI suppose you had a hand in all that?”
    â€œActually, I had nothing to do with Centurion and the country club, but I did have the pleasure of seeing you banned from the Bel-Air Arrington, just as you will be banned from this hotel and any other the company should ever open. If you enjoy that sort of thing, I’ll see what other indignities I might be able to inflict on you.”
    Tirov swung around to face him, and suddenly, there was a switchblade in his hand. “I think it’s time to see how you operate without a liver,” he said.
    As Stone squared away to face him he heard the men’s room door open, and a voice called out, “Everything all right in here, Mr. Barrington?”
    Stone thought about that for a moment before answering and decided that he had no wish to bloody a brand-new men’s room, especially with his own blood. “Not quite,” he replied. “There’s a man in here with a knife.”
    Two men with guns entered the room, and Tirov tossed the knife into the hole in the sinktop that led to a trash bin.
    â€œGentlemen,” Stone said, “please place this man in handcuffs, then recover the knife and turn both over to the Romepolice, as quietly as possible. I think a night or two in a Roman jail would do him a lot of good.”
    The two guards began carrying out Stone’s instructions.
    Tirov managed a sardonic smile. “You and I will discuss this on another occasion,” he said. “Perhaps in the company of Gala.”
    â€œGentlemen,” Stone said to the guards, “on second thought, remove the handcuffs and stand away from him, between him and the knife. Oh, and you might frisk him for other weapons.”
    â€œAre you sure, Mr. Barrington?”
    â€œYes, and the two of you can wait outside and make sure no one enters until we’re done here.”
    They patted down Tirov and removed the handcuffs, then left the room.
    â€œNow,” Stone said, “what would you like to discuss?”
    Tirov came straight at him with a big swing, and Stone managed to catch his wrist and use his momentum against him, throwing him against a urinal. Tirov tried again, and Stone hit him once with a straight left to the nose, then struck him once, hard, under the heart. The man went to his knees, a hand to his face, where blood was flowing.
    â€œIs there anything else you’d like to talk about?” Stone asked.
    Tirov said nothing but stayed on his knees.
    Stone went to the door and opened it. “Give him a chance to clean himself up, then throw him out the back door and radio your colleagues at the entrances to see that he doesn’t reenter the premises.”
    Stone walked back to his table and sat down. Dino handed him a napkin. “There’s a little blood on your knuckles,” he said.
    Stone took the napkin and wiped his hand.
    â€œAnybody I know?” Dino asked.
    â€œNope,” Stone replied.
    â€œHow badly did you hurt him?” Gala asked quietly.
    â€œNot badly enough,” Stone replied. He had a feeling