The camera returned to the reporter. “There you have it. Gunn Investments has been given a clean bill of health, and Jack Gunn is scheduled to make a public statement in about an hour. We’ll have that for you. In the meantime, David Gunn, Jack Gunn’s son, has returned to Miami after a week-long sail in the Caribbean.” The camera showed a handsome young man in sailing clothes being mobbed by reporters at a marina.
“I knew nothing about all this until we sailed into the harbor this morning,” he said. “I’ve been at sea and out of touch for a week, and I’m returning to New York today to be of any help I can in sorting this out.”
Stone turned the volume down and went back to his puzzle, but he couldn’t concentrate. Herbie had told him that David Gunn had spoken to his sister, Stephanie, a day or two earlier. Now he was saying he’d been out of touch for a week?
But Stone had other things to think about. He put down the puzzle, called the caretaker of the Maine house, and asked him to get the place in order for guests and to meet him at the airstrip on Saturday morning, then he called Mike Freeman.
“Good morning, Stone. Did you hear the good news about Jack Gunn?”
“Yes, I just saw it on TV,” Stone said.
“That’s a great relief,” Freeman said.
“I’m planning to use the Mustang on Saturday and Sunday,” Stone said, “if you don’t need it. I’ll be back no later than noon on Monday.”
“Fine, enjoy yourself.”
“Have you heard anything more from Lance Cabot?”
“No. I think he’s expecting me to call him today. I’ll do that, and I’ll say, while we are interested in doing work for the Agency, we don’t want to participate in the sort of mission he mentioned.”
“I think that’s a good move, Mike.”
“Let’s have lunch next week sometime.”
“I’d like that,” Stone replied. They said goodbye and hung up.
Stone was already at his desk when Milton Levine called.
“Morning, Milt.”
“And to you, Stone. Thanks for the referral of Peter Collins.”
“You’re very welcome. How did it work out?”
“We’re pretty much squared away. Turns out Collins had a permit for the gun, and the man who was shot agreed it was an accident. I pleaded him to one count of unlawful discharge of a firearm and he got probation and community service.”
“Nothing for the hostage-taking?”
“None of the people involved wanted to press charges, and the hostage negotiator testified to Collins’s cooperation, so the whole thing pretty much went away. He’s back at the office this morning.”
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall at the first meeting between Collins and Jack Gunn,” Stone said.
“So would I, but my guess is they’ll put it behind them, and it will be business as usual. I owe you a good dinner for the referral.”
“Anytime, Milt,” Stone said, and they hung up.
Stone felt a sense of relief that all the problems that had cropped up in the past few days seemed resolved. Now he could leave for the weekend with nothing on his mind, and he relished that prospect.
“Hi, Stone.”
Stone looked up to see Herbie Fisher leaning against the door-jamb.
“Good morning, Herbie.”
“I hear you and Adele hit it off last night.”
“We had a very pleasant evening,” Stone replied.
“And I hear you’re off to some surprise place this weekend, too.”
Stone frowned. “You certainly hear a lot, Herbie.”
“The women in the family are constantly talking to one another,” Herbie said. “Don’t tell one of the family, unless you want them all to know. Where are you taking Adele?”
“I’m going to take your advice, Herbie, and not tell you. Otherwise, it won’t be a surprise, will it?”
“You heard that Jack is off the hook? David too?”
“I heard.”
“Jack’s spending the day calling clients and telling them everything’s okay.”
“Good idea.”
“Say, Stone, would you like to invest some money with Jack? He doesn’t take a lot of new clients, but Stephanie could have a word with him.”
Stone thought about the unaccustomed large chunk of cash sitting in his accounts, from his Woodman & Weld bonus and the sale of his old airplane to Strategic Services. “That’s an interesting idea, Herbie. Let me get back to you on that, will you?”
“I’m putting everything with Jack, myself,” Herbie said.
“Everything?”
“Sure, why not? Stephanie will be watching over it for me.”
“It’s a good idea to put her in charge of your money, Herbie. She probably doesn’t have a bookie.”
Herbie found that very funny. “No, she’s a lot more conservative than I am.”
“Everybody is a lot more conservative than you are, Herbie.”
“Well, yeah, I guess.”
“Anything else on your mind?”
“No, I was just passing by,” Herbie said.
“When are you off on your honeymoon?”
“In a few days. We’re rebooking everything.”
“Have a good time,” Stone said, turning back to his work. Investing with Jack Gunn seemed like a pretty good bet, he was thinking.
THIRTEEN
On Saturday morning Stone picked up Adele and drove to Teterboro Airport, to Jet Aviation, where the Mustang sat out on the apron, waiting for them.
Adele showed an interest in the airplane, so, after loading their bags in the forward luggage compartment, Stone took her along on the preflight inspection, then he hooked up the battery, and they prepared to taxi. Stone got his IFR clearance, then worked his way through the long checklist, started the engines, and asked ground control for permission to taxi. Shortly, they were lined up on runway one with a takeoff clearance. Stone did his final, brief checklist, then pushed the throttles all the way forward and held the brakes on while the engines spooled up. He released the brakes, the airplane accelerated quickly down the runway, and Stone rotated, then retracted the landing gear and flaps. At seven hundred feet, he switched on the autopilot and began flying the Teterboro Six departure, but shortly he was given a vector to the Carmel VOR, then a moment later, direct to Kennebunk.
Adele had been listening on her headset from the copilot’s seat. “Kennebunk? That’s in Maine, isn’t it? Are we going to Maine?”
“We are,” Stone replied. “To an island in Penobscot Bay called Islesboro and a village called Dark Harbor.”
“It sounds wonderful,” she said.
The countryside was mostly white beneath them and got whiter as they flew east and north. Stone showed Adele Islesboro on the chart, then he ran through his descent and landing checklists, to stay well ahead of the airplane. They had only just reached their cruising altitude of thirty-three thousand feet when Boston Center started their descent.
Soon Stone could point out Islesboro and the landing strip.
“The strip looks awfully small,” Adele said.
“It will look larger as we approach,” Stone replied, “and the airplane is very good at short field work. Now, excuse me, I have to concentrate on landing.”
His checklist called for a final approach speed of 88 knots, and he concentrated on reaching and holding that speed while extending the flaps and landing gear. He put the airplane exactly where he wanted it and right on the speed number, then applied the brakes.