Calhoun?”
“What?”
“Most of these—let’s call them tribal leaders—live somewhere like on a mountaintop in Idaho, or some lost ranch in the Mojave Desert, but Dr. Don’s business and his people are based in a major American metropolis.”
“Hiding in plain sight.”
“Exactly. I wonder if his neighbors even know he’s there.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want him in my neighborhood.”
“I think you ought to let me put some people on your house,” Mike said. “I don’t like people in black SUVs running around with loaded illegal weapons.”
“Well, nobody took a shot at me. In fact, I accosted the first guy when he asked for Peter at the front desk of the Mayflower. He didn’t think he was stepping on my toes, he just thought Peter was there.”
“Why did he think Peter was there?”
“Because he followed me there from New York. I’d already told him on the phone that Peter was on vacation at a resort, so I guess he thought I was going to see him, not selling my house to Bill Eggers.”
“You know, I would have bought your house, if I’d known it was on the market.”
“I’m flattered, but I never put it on the market. I just told Eggers about it, and he bit—or, at least, his wife did.”
They shook hands and parted. In the late afternoon, Stone’s second copy of Dr. Don’s FBI file came back to him from Mike Freeman.
22
D uring the week Susan had her meeting with Bill Eggers, Julian Whately, and half a dozen other people from Woodman & Weld. She came home aglow.
“That was a real eye-opener for me,” she said.
“What did they recommend?”
“They want me to expand at every level of my business—to hire a publicist to ‘heat up’ my name, as they put it, to hire four people over the next year to supervise projects and report to me. They want me to buy the building in Wandsworth where my upholsterers are based and turn another floor into a draperies and fabrics workshop, and they’ll arrange financing. They’ve suggested that I design my own line of upholstered furniture and develop a line of slipcovers that fit the pieces. They want me to hire a team of people to go around England and France,buying antique furniture and objets d’art and use another floor of the building to warehouse them. They reckon I can get quadruple what I pay for them, if I buy judiciously. And once this is all working, they want me to do a deal with a chain of high-end shops, who would carry my fabrics, towels, and bathroom accessories. The mind boggles!”
“May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“Hire somebody really good to be your chief operating officer, so you can spend your time designing, instead of managing.”
“What a good idea! I’m going to be a very busy woman!”
Stone winced. Had he created a monster? She certainly wasn’t going to have much time for him.
“They also think that being the production designer on Peter’s film would be a wonderful showcase, and I’ve already done the perfect house for the project—yours!”
She left him to go and make phone calls to London.
—
V ery early on Friday morning, Fred collected Viv Bacchetti from her apartment, then came for Stone and Susan. They were at Teterboro before rush hour, and were soon taxiing to the runway. Pat Frank’s people had already done his flight planning and were predicting winds that would take him to Windward Hall nonstop, after St. John’s.
The two women sat in the rear of the airplane and chatted,until Susan had to make satphone calls to her office. They refueled at St. John’s, Newfoundland, then set off for England. Once Stone was at flight level 410, he picked up the predicted 100-knot tailwinds, and the range ring showed Windward well within its boundaries. Settled en route, Stone read the Times , then opened a book of New York Times Sunday crosswords, the perfect long-distance flying companion: look at a clue, write down the answer, do an instrument scan. He got into a
“What?”
“Most of these—let’s call them tribal leaders—live somewhere like on a mountaintop in Idaho, or some lost ranch in the Mojave Desert, but Dr. Don’s business and his people are based in a major American metropolis.”
“Hiding in plain sight.”
“Exactly. I wonder if his neighbors even know he’s there.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want him in my neighborhood.”
“I think you ought to let me put some people on your house,” Mike said. “I don’t like people in black SUVs running around with loaded illegal weapons.”
“Well, nobody took a shot at me. In fact, I accosted the first guy when he asked for Peter at the front desk of the Mayflower. He didn’t think he was stepping on my toes, he just thought Peter was there.”
“Why did he think Peter was there?”
“Because he followed me there from New York. I’d already told him on the phone that Peter was on vacation at a resort, so I guess he thought I was going to see him, not selling my house to Bill Eggers.”
“You know, I would have bought your house, if I’d known it was on the market.”
“I’m flattered, but I never put it on the market. I just told Eggers about it, and he bit—or, at least, his wife did.”
They shook hands and parted. In the late afternoon, Stone’s second copy of Dr. Don’s FBI file came back to him from Mike Freeman.
22
D uring the week Susan had her meeting with Bill Eggers, Julian Whately, and half a dozen other people from Woodman & Weld. She came home aglow.
“That was a real eye-opener for me,” she said.
“What did they recommend?”
“They want me to expand at every level of my business—to hire a publicist to ‘heat up’ my name, as they put it, to hire four people over the next year to supervise projects and report to me. They want me to buy the building in Wandsworth where my upholsterers are based and turn another floor into a draperies and fabrics workshop, and they’ll arrange financing. They’ve suggested that I design my own line of upholstered furniture and develop a line of slipcovers that fit the pieces. They want me to hire a team of people to go around England and France,buying antique furniture and objets d’art and use another floor of the building to warehouse them. They reckon I can get quadruple what I pay for them, if I buy judiciously. And once this is all working, they want me to do a deal with a chain of high-end shops, who would carry my fabrics, towels, and bathroom accessories. The mind boggles!”
“May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“Hire somebody really good to be your chief operating officer, so you can spend your time designing, instead of managing.”
“What a good idea! I’m going to be a very busy woman!”
Stone winced. Had he created a monster? She certainly wasn’t going to have much time for him.
“They also think that being the production designer on Peter’s film would be a wonderful showcase, and I’ve already done the perfect house for the project—yours!”
She left him to go and make phone calls to London.
—
V ery early on Friday morning, Fred collected Viv Bacchetti from her apartment, then came for Stone and Susan. They were at Teterboro before rush hour, and were soon taxiing to the runway. Pat Frank’s people had already done his flight planning and were predicting winds that would take him to Windward Hall nonstop, after St. John’s.
The two women sat in the rear of the airplane and chatted,until Susan had to make satphone calls to her office. They refueled at St. John’s, Newfoundland, then set off for England. Once Stone was at flight level 410, he picked up the predicted 100-knot tailwinds, and the range ring showed Windward well within its boundaries. Settled en route, Stone read the Times , then opened a book of New York Times Sunday crosswords, the perfect long-distance flying companion: look at a clue, write down the answer, do an instrument scan. He got into a
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