“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 deaclass="underline" 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.”
“That sounds like a pretty good offer to me.”
“Trouble was, the Colonel no longer had all the proceeds; we had done the split and scattered to the four winds. Three of us were out of the Corps by this time, one was getting out in a matter of days and the other one was dead.”
“Did that one get dead because of this… transaction?”
“I don’t want to go into that.”
“But the rest of you wouldn’t give back, so you cost the Colonel his career?”
“No, no, you don’t understand.”
“Make me understand.”
“The Colonel never asked us for our end back; he never even contacted us. The brass hat wanted the money for himself, so the Colonel turned down the deal and resigned from the Corps. By the time any of us heard about it, the deal was done, and the Colonel was gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Nobody knew. He was just gone.”
“Did any of you look for him?”
“I did. When I joined the NYPD I did a search every year or so, using department resources, but I always came up dry.”
“Are you in touch with the other three guys?”
Cantor shook his head. “We agreed never to make contact again. It was safer that way.”
“Did anybody get caught?”
“Nope.”
“And you never saw each other again?”
Cantor looked around. “Not until yesterday.”
“What happened yesterday?”
“I was having a drink here last night.”
“At Clarke’s.”
“At the bar. I looked up from my glass, and a guy was standing at the end of the bar, looking at me.”
“You know his name?”
“Of course, but I’m not telling you. All you need to know is that he was the one who wasn’t happy with the cut. In fact, he was so unhappy that a couple of us were going to off him, but he cut and ran before we had the chance.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“I looked away for a minute, trying to figure out what to do, and when I turned back, he was gone.”
Stone nodded, he hoped sagely.
“Stone?”
“Yes?”
“How is the Colonel?”
Stone told him.
“I’m glad he’s all right,” Cantor said.
“Bob.”
“Yeah?”
“If you see this guy again or hear from him, you should get in touch with me right away.”
“Why?”
“To make sure the Colonel stays all right.”
10
Stone went back to his office and tried to get some work done, but it took him more than two hours to write a brief that should have taken half an hour. There were times when he wished he had an associate to dump these things on.
Joan buzzed him. “Cabot on line one,” she said.
“Which Cabot?”
“There’s more than one?”
Stone picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“It’s Lance.”
“How did it go this morning?”
“We had a very nice lunch together at the Mayflower Inn, in Washington. He seemed not to want me in the house.”
“So, did you detect any sign of a woman there?”
“Don’t try and be funny, Stone.”
“You seemed miffed that I didn’t detect that; I just wanted to see if your powers of deduction exceeded mine.”
“Barton seems to have mostly recovered his memory.”
“What do you mean by mostly?”
“He doesn’t remember anything about the night he was attacked, but it’s common for trauma victims not to remember the trauma.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You sound skeptical.”
“Oh, no, not me.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Stone.”
“That was irony.”
Lance took a deep breath, obviously trying to remain civil. “I want you to keep an eye on Barton.”
“I’m not in the ‘keeping an eye on’ business, Lance.”
“You have a house in Washington; why don’t you spend a few days there and drop in on him from time to time?”
“I am not your brother’s keeper, to coin a phrase.”
“Stone, if you had any idea of the pressures on me at work…”
“That would still not induce the miracle of genetics required to make Barton my brother. Here’s an idea, Lance: Why don’t you instruct Holly to take a little vacation, go up there and keep an eye on him? You said he likes women, and Holly is a very attractive one. She can use my house.” Holly Barker was Stone’s friend and occasional lover and one of Lance’s staff at Langley.
There was a long silence before Lance spoke. “That is actually a very good idea, Stone.”
“If she’ll do it.”
“I think that if I put it as a request for a personal favor she would go up there. You could drop in on her for a visit.”
Stone ignored that suggestion, though it had already crossed his mind. He hadn’t seen Holly for a while, and the idea of a couple of days in Connecticut with her was appealing. “I hope it all goes well, Lance.”
“Thank you. So do I.”
“Good-bye, Lance.”
“There is just one more thing, Stone.”
Stone rolled his eyes. “What is it?”
“There’s the matter of the missing mahogany secretary.”
Stone said nothing.
“Stone?”