“He’s been in a prep school in Virginia for a few months, and is now way ahead of not just his peers, but the seniors. He’s also saddled with Vance Calder’s name, and he doesn’t like the treatment he receives because of it.”
“And what’s your solution for handling it?”
“Not my solution, entirely, but Peter’s, and his mother has fully bought into it.”
“Go on.”
“Peter wants to attend a performing-arts prep school on the Upper East Side called Knickerbocker Hall, doing college-level work and attending their film school.”
“Sounds good.”
“And he wants to change his name to Barrington before he applies.”
“I see.”
“And he wants them to think he’s eighteen.”
Eggers blinked. “And how does he plan to do that?”
“Just by telling the school that he’s eighteen. When you’ve met him you’ll see that nobody will doubt him.”
“He’s currently a resident of Virginia?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll have an associated firm in Virginia do a straightforward change of name in the courts down there. They can also notify his school of the change and request that all his records there be changed to Barrington.”
“This has to be done in such a way that no one in the media catches it.”
“Legally, it will have to be advertised locally, but there are always obscure publications that can satisfy that requirement. We have to have a reason stated for the change of name in the petition to the court. What do you want to say?”
Stone thought about it. “Damned if I know.”
“How about: ‘Petitioner wishes his surname to be that of his natural father’?”
“He’s too young to be a petitioner; I suppose Arrington will have to fill that role.”
“I thought he was going to be eighteen.”
“Well, to all intents and purposes-except for legal ones, of course.”
Eggers tilted back in his chair, rested his feet on his desk, and pressed his fingertips together in a thoughtful pose. “Where was he born?”
“In Los Angeles.”
“How about we get his birth certificate reissued and his old one removed? That should solve the problem.”
“How the hell are you going to do that? You can’t just hire some clerk to steal a public record and replace it with a forgery.”
“Well, I suppose you could, but that’s messy. All we need is a judge to order a reissuing of the certificate, for the same reason as we give in Virginia, and along the way, to correct a typographical error with regard to birth date. We should still do the name change in Virginia, because of his school.”
“And what kind of judge are you going to get to do that?”
“One that you and I went to law school with. Remember Carling Steadman?”
“Steadman is a judge in L.A.? I didn’t know that.”
“Then you must not read the alumni journal.”
“I guess not.”
“The firm has had some dealings with him the past few years; he’s always ruled in our favor. And I had dinner with him and his wife when I was in L.A. a few weeks ago. Carling has started a foundation dedicated to the defense of indigents in L.A. County. He doesn’t know it, but I’m going to make a twenty-five-thousand-dollar donation at a fund-raising dinner they’re having next week.”
“The media are going to be a bigger problem in L.A. than they would in Virginia,” Stone pointed out.
“We’ll petition that the boy’s old birth certificate be permanently sealed. No reporter is going to be looking for one belonging to a Peter Barrington.”
“Good point.”
“Leave it with me. How do you want the name to appear on the certificate? You don’t want Calder there, do you?”
“No.” Stone thought for a minute. “Make it Malon Peter Barrington.”
“Your father’s name, as I recall. A happy coincidence.”
“Correct. Better make it Malon Peter Barrington the Second.”
Eggers wrote it down, along with Peter’s new birth date. “I’ll get on it,” he said. “Will Peter need any help with getting into the school? I’ll see if anybody here has a connection.”
“Thank you, yes. I can get Leo Goldman to write a recommendation, too, based on what he’s seen of a film Peter is working on.”
“At a film school, that couldn’t hurt.”
“And he wants to go to Yale Drama School after Knickerbocker.”
“I can get half a dozen letters to back him there. Just tell him to make outstanding grades, join some school organizations, and do some charity work.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem.”
“I’ll call you when I have a grip on this,” Eggers said. The two men shook hands and Stone headed for home, a ten-minute walk.
As Stone walked into his office Joan called out, “Bill Eggers on line one.”
Stone went to his desk and picked up the phone. “Did I forget something?”
“No. I spoke to Carling Steadman. His order will be issued tomorrow, and you’ll have a dozen certified copies of the new birth certificate by FedEx on Monday. Peter will need them for school applications, et cetera. A couple of other things: we’ve got a partner here, Willard Powers, who is an alumnus of Peter’s school in Virginia and who is a trustee. He’s going to speak with the headmaster about changing the name on Peter’s records. He knows of another case where this was done, so he doesn’t think it will be a problem.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“And do you know of a grand dame actress named Letitia Covington?”
“The new Helen Hayes? Of course.”
“She’s the mother of a client of ours, and she was a founding board member of the performing arts program at Knickerbocker Hall. Peter has an appointment to meet her on Monday afternoon at three o’clock. Tell Peter to bring some sort of example of his film work.” Eggers gave Stone the address.
“Wow, Bill,” Stone said, “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“All part of being a partner of the firm,” Eggers said. “This won’t be the last time the relationship will work for you.”
Stone hung up. Joan came in and handed him a FedEx package from Leo Goldman. “This just arrived,” she said.
12
L ater in the afternoon, Herbie Fisher called.
“Yes, Herbie?”
“Stone, the two guys are still outside. I can see them from my terrace. If I can’t get a carry license, I’m going to have to carry anyway.”
“Herbie, if you have ambitions to practice law, then you do not want a felony weapons charge on your record. You can understand that, can’t you? It would mean no law license, and the one you illegally obtained would be shredded.”
“Oh.”
“Exactly.”
“Then what can I do?”
“We can call your uncle Bob and get a couple of his guys put on the job. They can watch your back.” Herbie’s uncle Bob was Bob Berman, a retired police officer who often did technical and security work for Stone.
“I don’t want to bring Uncle Bob into this,” Herbie said. “He’s getting used to my being a straight character, and I want nothing to change his mind.”
“Very well, I’m on the board of a very large, very able security company called Strategic Services. I can arrange for them to supply you with anything from a bodyguard to a fleet of black helicopters, bristling with air-to-ground missiles.”
“Sounds good. Let’s talk to them about something at the low end of that range.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Stone said, then hung up and dialed Mike Freeman.
“Yes, Stone?”
“Mike, I have a small security job for you.”
“How small?”
“Two armed men, round the clock?”
“Tell me about it.”
“A client of mine, a wealthy young man named Herbert Fisher, a law student, is attempting to disentangle himself from a poor decision called marriage. Although his wife has agreed to the terms of the divorce, she appears to be having him followed by two men who, on one occasion, have driven him off a yacht at knifepoint into New York Harbor. They’re still on him.”
“Is Mr. Fisher presently operating as a single man?”