“No, that stuff is just in case he searches you. Tell him your name is Joe, just Joe. All he should know about you is that name and the number for this phone.” Tommy handed him a phone. “Memorize the number. It’s a throwaway. Don’t call anybody but Manny from this phone.”
Stone handed him another phone. “Use this for general purposes, like calling us.”
“Am I going to have to wear a wire?” Evan asked.
“No,” Tommy said, handing him a well-used briefcase. “The briefcase is wired, so keep it within about eight feet of you and Manny. It’ll pick up everything and record it. It’s a solid-state recorder, very small, and it’s concealed under the lining of the case. We’ve put a few pens, paper clips and other junk in there, just to look like you use it every day, but there’s room for the money, too.”
“Got it,” Evan said.
“It’s okay if you’re a little nervous,” Stone said. “Anybody would be, under the circumstances. Try and stick to the script we’ve talked about, but you can improvise, if you think it will help. Just don’t talk too much; you might make mistakes.”
Stone described Manny’s office, so he would know what to expect. “Okay, you ready to make the call?”
Evan took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay.”
MANNY’S SECRETARY BUZZED him. “There’s a man who says he needs to talk to you, says it’s urgent.”
“What’s his name?”
“Joe, just Joe.”
Manny picked up the phone. “Manny White.”
“Mr. White, my name is Joe. I’d like to speak to you about a job, a very important job.”
“So speak,” Manny said.
“Not on the phone,” Evan said. “I can meet with you around midday today, if you’re available. In your office or wherever you choose.”
“Give me some sort of idea about what you want,” Manny said. “I may not do your kind of work.”
“Wally Millard, in New York, says you might be able to help.”
“Oh, okay, then. How about one o’clock, in my offi ce?”
“Then we’re good.”
“You have the address?”
“No.”
Manny gave it to him, then hung up and called Wally Millard.
“Millard.”
“Hey, Wally, it’s Manny White.”
“Hey, Manny, how you doin’? Funny you should call. I sent you some business yesterday.”
“Yeah, he just called. Who is he?”
“He doesn’t want to do names. Calls himself Joe. But I’ve done a couple jobs for the guy, and he’s always been straight with me. Pays well and on the dot, too.”
“Okay. If you’re vouching for the guy, he can’t be all bad.”
“I was never sorry I worked for him,” Wally said.
“Thanks, pal,” Manny said, then he hung up.
WE’RE ON FOR one o’clock,” Evan said.
“Then we’d better get started,” Stone said. He called the airport and asked for his airplane to be refueled and pulled out of the hangar.
56
STONE LANDED AT Tamiami Airport, rented a car and drove to South Beach. When they were a block from Manny White’s office building, he stopped. “Okay, you take the car from here,” he said to Evan. “Put my cell phone number in your personal phone on a speed-dial button, so if you get into trouble you can call us. When you’re done, drive back to this point and pick us up.”
“Okay,” Evan said.
“There’s parking behind his building, and you can go in the rear entrance.”
“Got it.”
Stone had the feeling he was a lot more nervous than Evan. “Don’t hurry it; he’ll think you’re panicky.”
“When do I want this hit done?”
“As soon as possible. Tell him you’re under some time pressure, but don’t tell him why. Tonight is okay, tomorrow. Don’t agree to anything later than that, and insist on knowing when they’re going to do it. Tell him you want to be well away from the action.”
“Okay. Can I go now?”
Stone and Dino got out of the car, and he drove away.
MANNY WHITE’S SECRETAR Y buzzed him. “Mr. White,” she said, “your appointment is here.”
“Send him in,” Manny said, and he rose to meet the young man who entered his office. They shook hands, and Manny indicated a chair. “Have a seat, Joe.”
“Thank you. Wally Millard sends his best regards.”
“How did you meet Wally?” Manny asked.
“My New York lawyer sent me to him when I needed some work done.”
“What sort of work?”
“We don’t need to go into that,” Evan said.
“Tell me about your problem,” Manny said.
“I’m in business with a man, and it’s not working out. I want to sell the business, and I have a buyer, but my partner wants a lot more out of the deal than he put in.”
“So you want a sort of business divorce?”
“You could put it that way.”
“And it won’t be amicable?”
“No, and I’d like it to be permanent.”
Manny stood up and walked around the desk. “Stand up, Joe,”
he said, “and take off your jacket. I need to take some precautions.”
Evan stood up and watched as Manny went through his coat pockets and felt along every seam.
“Unbutton your shirt and pull out your shirttail,” Manny said. Evan did as he was told.
Manny lifted his shirt and inspected his chest and back, then made sure there were no wires attached to the shirt. He patted Evan down carefully, paying particular attention to his crotch. “Drop your pants to your knees,” Manny said.
Evan did so and stood still while Manny pulled down his shorts and parted the cheeks of his ass. After Evan had pulled up his pants, Manny checked his shoes and socks.
“All right, you can get dressed,” Manny said. “You’re clean.” He picked up Evan’s briefcase and opened it.
Evan took out the envelope with the cash. “We’re not ready to get to this yet,” he said.
Manny emptied the briefcase onto his desk, then felt the inside for lumps, then he raked the detritus from the case back into it and set it on the desk.
Evan put the money back into the case.
“All right,” Manny said, “tell me what you want.”
Evan took a pad from the briefcase and wrote, “I want him dead,” then showed it to Manny.
“I understand you. What’s the man’s name?”
Evan wrote “Michael Levy” and the address.
“Where is this?”
“North of here a couple of hours, about eight or nine miles south of Stuart, on the Intracoastal Waterway.”
“How far from I-95?”
“Six or seven miles, but your best opportunity would come from a boat, which I will provide.” Evan took the map from his pocket and spread it on Manny’s desk. “There’s a little marina up this creek, right here. It’s private and untended, and I have a Boston Whaler tied up there. It’s black and has the name Waverider on the bow. The key is in a little locker under the steering wheel, and the outboard has a push-button starter.”
“Okay, and this map gets my guy there from the interstate?”
“Right down this little road,” Evan said, pointing. “All he does is start the boat, untie it and go down the creek a hundred yards or so to the waterway, then turn north. There’s a powerful spotlight in the boat, if they go after dark, but I’d suggest starting at dusk and approaching the place after the sun is well down. The house is here, marked by an X, and there’s a dock. There’s a sign on the dock with the initials M.L.”
“Will my guy need to go inside?”
“Maybe, but probably not. Mike has a drink or two on his back porch at sunset. Your man can approach him down the dock, as if to ask for directions, or if he’s good with a rifle, shoot from the end of the dock.”