dynasty terra-cotta horse, and Herbie set his marble pencil box on the other end.
“As you can see,” Josh said, “we’ve got a dozen buildings, six of which have just been completed, four outdoor firing ranges, each with a high earthen berm to stop the lead, and two indoor ranges, as well. We’ve already got a five-thousand-foot runway in place, with two large hangars and a fuel farm. Mike bought a private field intact, along with another six hundred acres.”
“You’re expecting a lot of executive aircraft, then?”
“It’s more secure to fly your students in. We don’t want to arouse attention at a commercial airport-Stewart International is the nearest-and a lot of them will be bringing in personal weapons.”
“I see.”
“You ever fired a weapon, Herb?”
“Yes,” Herbie replied, “but in a coffeehouse, not a firing range.”
“Did that get you arrested?”
“It did, but I was released after a short time. I had a good lawyer who made a good case to the DA for self-defense.”
“Did you hit anybody?”
“Only the man I was aiming at.”
“That’s the idea, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is,” Herbie said.
“I’d like you to come up to our place and do a course with us.”
“That would be interesting,” Herbie said.
“It will be more than that,” Josh said. “It will be educational, in the best sense of the word.”
“Then I’ll do it,” Herbie replied, smiling. “I could use some more education, especially since it’s something of a practical nature.”
“It’s a dangerous world,” Josh said. “It’s practical to stay alive and unharmed.”
“I’m in favor of both of those,” Herbie said. “Did you come directly to Mike from the Agency?”
“No, in between I started my own consultancy. That’s how Mike found me-we were competitors. It was smart of him to buy me out.”
“When do you start getting your first students?”
“Next week, as soon as construction is complete on the barracks and the indoor ranges.”
“Can I be in your first class?”
“What sort of shape are you in?” Josh asked.
“Pretty good. I work out five days a week at the gym in my building.”
“How far can you run without passing out?”
“I have no idea,” Herbie said. “I’m a city boy-we don’t do a lot of running, except in Central Park.”
“We’ll see how you do.”
Herbie was beginning to regret volunteering for Josh’s first class. “Running until I pass out would be an unnatural act for me.”
“We’ll see,” Josh said.
“Josh, forgive my asking, but what is the point of your boot camp approach? Are your students, in their professional lives, going to be required to run two miles without fainting?”
“Probably not,” Josh admitted.
“Do you think you might be requiring all this exertion because you can do it yourself?”
“Maybe.”
“My advice is to treat them like professionals, not Marine recruits. You’ll use their time better, and they’ll leave better equipped to do their work.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” Josh said.
“Good. Now let me make myself clear. I’m not running anywhere for any distance while I’m at your facility. I’m there to learn, not faint.”
“Okay, Herb, okay,” Josh said. “You won’t have to run.”
“Thanks.” Herbie felt that he had drawn a line in his relationship with this guy and that, in the future, he’d get more respect.
“Now,” Herbie said, “let’s go through the list of what I need to set up for you.” He began checking off items, and he got Josh’s full attention.
19
Bobby Bentley met his father for dinner at his club, the Brook, on East Fifty-fourth Street in Manhattan, a monthly occurrence. They sat down in the library for drinks. Bobby was his father’s only son, a surprise product of his second marriage to a much younger woman, with the result that Robert Eaton Bentley II (Bobby was III) was old enough to be his son’s grandfather.
“Well, my boy,” II said. “How are things at the venerable firm of Woodman and Weld?” This was an ironic question, since II regarded the firm as a bunch of wild-eyed, liberal arrivistes, mainly because its birth did not predate his own. Still they represented him in some things. “You’ve been there, what, all of a week?”
“Ten days, Dad,” Bobby replied. “And I’ve had a wonderful break.”
“I would be interested to know what you regard as ‘a break,’” his father said.
“Instead of being assigned to work for a partner, I’ve been assigned to the firm’s newest senior associate, a young man named Herbert Fisher.”
“If you had let me know, I could have made a call and put that right,” his father said.
“Although he’s thirtyish, Herb Fisher graduated from law school two years ago, and he’s the first associate ever to make senior associate in less than three years.”
“He sounds green as grass,” II said. “Why would any client hire him?”
“He was promoted three days ago, and he’s already brought in two important clients.”
“What do you mean by ‘important’?”
“A hot software start-up, backed by Marshall Brennan, and a new subsidiary of Strategic Services.”
II blinked. “Marshall Brennan and Mike Freeman, of Strategic Services, are both members of this club.”
“That’s what I meant by important,” Bobby said. His father did not impress easily, and he was enjoying the moment. “I think this software firm is something you should keep an eye on,” he said. “They’ll eventually have an IPO, and it could be a big one.”
II withdrew an alligator-clad jotter from his pocket and uncapped his fountain pen. “Herbert Fisher, you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the name of the software company?”
“High Cotton Ideas.”
II displayed a small smile. “I like the name.”
“The great thing about working for Herb,” Bobby said, “is that instead of learning to be an associate, I’ll be learning to be an attorney, and Herb has a broad idea of what that means.” He told him about the experience of watching his boss get High Cotton organized.
II regarded his son with an expression of wonder. “I rather thought that you’d be laboring in the law library and logging sixty billable hours a week for five or six years.”
“As I said earlier, I got a break.”
“I would like to meet Herbert Fisher,” II said. “Can you arrange that?”
Bobby glanced at his watch. “I rather thought you would like to meet him. He’ll be joining us for a drink about…” Bobby looked up to see a retainer showing Herb Fisher into the room. “Now.”
II swiveled his head to take in the door. “My goodness,” he said, rising to greet his unexpected guest.
Bobby made the introduction, and they sat down again.
The retainer hovered.
“Knob Creek on ice,” Herbie said to the man, “if you please.”
