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“Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest, since you represent us?”

“If it looks that way, we can seal me off from any contact with the representation of Gunn,” Stone explained, “but I understand that Gunn’s position is that he’s innocent of any wrongdoing and is cooperating with the U.S. Attorney.”

“Not like the Madoff thing, huh?”

“I hope not. Bill wants me at the first meeting this afternoon. I’ll need to look into this some more, to be sure there’s no conflict, but in any case, my first loyalty is to Strategic Services.”

Stone’s cell phone buzzed, and he looked at it. “It’s Eggers. I’d better take this.” He got up and walked across the room. “Yes, Bill?”

“Stone, I’m going to seal you off from the Gunn representation. I don’t want it to interfere with your representation of Strategic Services, and you should tell Mike Freeman that I can’t work on his account until the Gunn thing is cleared up, which could be some time.”

“I understand, Bill.”

“This means you’re going to have to handle the Strategic Services account without consulting me. Most of the rest of the firm will be available to you, if you need help.”

“Thanks, I’ll let Mike know.” Stone hung up and returned to his seat. “I’m all yours,” Stone said.

“Good.”

“But Bill is going to have to be absent from your account while he’s dealing with the Gunn thing.”

“I understand.”

“Have you made any attempt to move your investments from Gunn to another firm?”

“Not yet.”

“I think it would be good if you moved those assets to another entity, say, your bank, for the time being. You should talk to your banker before you call the Gunn firm. Who is your account manager there?”

“Jack Gunn.”

“You’ll have to talk to his number two, then.”

“That would be Peter Collins. I’ve dealt with him a couple of times.”

Freeman called his banker, talked for a moment, then hung up. “All Gunn’s accounts are temporarily frozen,” he said to Stone. “No transferring any funds into or out of accounts, and no trading.”

“That may be a good thing,” Stone said.

Freeman’s secretary knocked and came into the room. “You should turn on your TV to CNBC,” she said.

Freeman switched on a large flat-screen TV hanging on the wall on the other side of his office. A reporter stood outside the building where Jack Gunn’s offices were located. In the background officers in body armor were moving into the building and there was yellow police boundary tape everywhere.

“The latest word is that somebody has shot several people in the offices of Jack Gunn, the investment banker who was taken to the U.S. Attorney’s office earlier this morning for questioning,” the reporter was saying. “We have not been told who the shooter is, how many people he has shot, or whether there are any fatalities, and it may be some time before we know any of that.”

Stone looked past the reporter, and his eyes widened. He saw Herbie Fisher leaving the building with his arm around his new wife. “That’s my client,” he said, pointing. He got his cell phone out and speed-dialed Herbie’s phone.

“Hello?” Herbie said breathlessly.

“Herbie, it’s Stone Barrington. I’ve just seen you come out of Gunn’s building on TV. What’s going on up there?”

“This guy who sits next to Jack’s office has shot a couple of people; I don’t think anybody is dead. We were down the hall in Stephanie’s office when the shooting started, and we got the hell out of there.”

“Who is the guy doing the shooting?” Stone asked.

“His name is Peter Collins,” Herbie replied. “I just met him this morning. We were supposed to talk to him about moving my money over to the firm.”

“Did you do that?”

“No, we didn’t have time.”

“That’s good. Get Stephanie to your apartment and call me when you’re there.”

“Okay, Stone.” Herbie hung up.

So did Stone. “The guy doing the shooting is Peter Collins,” he said to Mike Freeman. “I don’t think he’s going to be taking any calls this morning, except maybe from a police hostage negotiator.”

“Oh, swell,” Freeman said. He picked up his phone. “Sally, put that conference call through,” he said. “Stone, I may as well let them all know what’s happening, or what we know of it.”

“I suppose so,” Stone said.

The call was put through, and Freeman brought his colleagues up to date, then told them he’d get back to them when he had more information. He hung up.

“I guess there’s nothing else we can do except wait for more information,” he said to Stone.

“I guess not,” Stone replied.

SIX

Stone got back to his office a little after five and went through the messages Joan had put on his desk before she left for the day. Dino had called and so, to his astonishment, had Peter Collins of Jack Gunn Investments.

Stone didn’t know Peter Collins. Just for the hell of it he dialed the number. It rang seven times before it was picked up.

“Hello?” a hoarse male voice said.

“This is Stone Barrington. I’m returning Peter Collins’s call. Who is this?”

“This is Peter Collins.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Collins?”

“I need an attorney to represent me in a multiple-count criminal action,” Collins said.

“Are you still holding hostages there, Mr. Collins?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Four.”

“What are their names?”

Collins told him, and Stone wrote them down.

“How many are injured?”

“Just one. I accidentally shot him in the leg while herding everybody into my office.”

“Where in the leg?”

“Left, outside thigh.”

“So you missed the femoral artery?”

“Yes. He’s been given first aid and is alert and talking.”

“Good. Mr. Collins, I can’t represent you in the criminal action because I’m corporate counsel to one of your clients, Strategic Services.”

“I didn’t know that,” Collins said.

“I was appointed only yesterday. What I can do for you is represent you in your talks with the police hostage negotiator and make sure you’re dealt with nonviolently and that your rights are not violated. Then I can recommend an attorney to represent you in your legal difficulties. I assume that these multiple charges are related to your work and the taking of the four hostages. Is that correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“All right. Are you willing to give yourself up?”

“Yes, but I have conditions.”

“What are they?”

“One: that nobody shoots me. Two: that I’m not led out of the building handcuffed, and that I leave the building through the garage, sitting in the right front seat of a police car. Three: that the wounded hostage is taken out of the building first, on a stretcher. Four: that no one asks me any questions until I’ve spoken in person with an attorney.”

“Is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Mr. Collins.”

“Please call me Peter; I’m more comfortable with that.”

“Peter, I’m Stone. Can you remain near this phone?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll call you back in less than half an hour. If anything happens in the meantime that worries you, you can call me back on the same number you called before.”

“All right.”

“Just be calm, and don’t talk to the police or anyone else until I call you back.”