'Well, good luck,' Stone said. 'Goodbye, Lance.' He hung up.
Pablo Estancia had arrived at his Park Avenue apartment, had breakfast, showered and shaved, then phoned his barber and made an appointment for mid-morning.
The man arrived at ten o'clock, set a dining chair in Estancia's dressing room, and had a look at his head. 'The usual?' the barber, who had not seen him for more than a year, asked.
'I'd like it shorter, please, and I'd like to lose most of the gray.'
'Of course,' the man said, and went to work.
After the barber left, Estancia looked in the mirror and thought he looked ten years younger. He looked in a dresser drawer and came up with a box containing various bits of false hair. He selected a couple of pieces, brushed them carefully, and applied a thin coat of rubber cement.
Holly Barker sat next to Todd Bacon in Lance Cabot's office at the Agency's Langley, Virginia, headquarters and let Lance vent.
'This is a total fiasco,' he said. 'I thought you had this extraction planned down to the last detail.'
'We did,' Holly said, 'but in our planning we somehow missed the possibility of the extractee driving a car out of the airplane and into a Rye, New York, swimming pool. I think Todd and I now realize that was an oversight,' she said wryly, 'but I have to point out that, in approving the extraction, you didn't spot that flaw in the plan, either.'
Todd wisely kept his mouth shut.
Lance stared out the window and smiled a little.
'What are you thinking?' Holly asked.
'I was just thinking that this would make a wonderful story for my memoirs, but the Agency's censors would never allow it to be published.'
Stone was at his desk in the late morning when Joan buzzed him. 'There's a gentleman to see you,' she said. 'He won't give his name, but he says you know him.'
'Oh, what the hell,' Stone said. 'It's a slow morning; send him in.'
A man Stone had never seen before appeared in his office doorway. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, was dressed in a well-tailored suit, and wore a dark mustache and goatee and heavy, horn-rimmed glasses.
Stone stood up as the man walked toward him with his hand out. 'I don't believe I've had the pleasure,' he said.
The man laughed and took a chair. 'I am Erwin Gelbhardt,' he said, 'but you can call me Pablo.'
TWENTY-EIGHT
Stone stared at the man for a moment, got it, then laughed, too. 'You must have had an interesting morning,' he said.
Pablo gave him an account of his movements since departing the C-17, then he held up a hand. 'Before we continue this conversation, I would like to retain you as my attorney.'
'For what purpose?' Stone asked.
'To conduct negotiations with the people who so kindly transported me to this country. I wish to reside again in this country without fear of kidnapping and what the loony right wing like to call 'enhanced interrogation.' '
'What have you to offer them?' Stone asked.
'Will you represent me?'
Stone thought about that for a moment. There was the matter of his consultant's contract with the Agency, but since he was not currently employed by them, he figured he could tap-dance his way around that.
'If, once I've heard your story, I can believe that your objective has a good possibility of coming to fruition, then yes, I'll represent you. Otherwise, we'd just be talking about a plea bargain.'
'What will your retainer be?' Pablo asked.
'One hundred thousand dollars,' Stone replied without hesitation, 'payable in advance from a legal source, against an hourly rate of seven hundred dollars, plus expenses.'
'Agreed,' Pablo replied. He took an alligator-bound checkbook from his inside coat pocket and began to write. 'This is drawn on a New York City bank account containing only legally derived funds,' he said, handing the check to Stone.
Stone buzzed Joan. 'Please type up a representation agreement,' he said. 'A retainer of one hundred thousand dollars, against seven hundred dollars an hour.' He hung up the phone and looked at the check. 'How is it you have funds in the U.S. that have not been attached by the IRS?'
'I settled with the IRS years ago,' Pablo replied, 'and I've filed a proper return every year since then.'
Stone smiled. 'That's very good news,' he said, 'and, if it's true, it's going to make our negotiating position much better.'
'Let me explain something to you going in, Stone. In my dealings with you and the Agency I will tell you only the truth. However, if I feel that my answering a question will place in jeopardy my family or some other innocent person, I will decline to answer rather than lie.'
'Good, that saves my making the standard speech,' Stone replied. 'Let's begin by you telling me how you accomplished a settlement with the IRS.'
'It was remarkably simple,' Pablo replied. 'After leaving the United States I gave my tax position a great deal of thought, and I concluded that I did not wish to spend my life as a fugitive from the most powerful nation on earth. So I simply telephoned a deputy director of the IRS, introduced myself, and asked him what would be required to straighten everything out. He told me to call him back in twenty-four hours, and when I did, he said that thirty million dollars in cash and a written agreement to regularize my tax filings in the future would eliminate the problem.' Pablo shrugged. 'That was about three million more than I figured I owed him, but what the hell. He faxed me an agreement, I signed it and wired him the money the same day. As a result, I now have a document, signed by the director of the IRS, stating that the United States government has no claim on any of my funds or property in this country or elsewhere as of that date, provided I file accurate returns from that date.'
'I'm going to want a copy of that,' Stone said.
Pablo reached into a coat pocket, produced a folded sheet of paper, and handed it to Stone.
Stone read it. 'Remarkable,' he said, 'given the circumstances.'
'There is one circumstance you don't know about,' Pablo said. 'I escaped from U.S. custody in Miami at the conclusion of my trial, while the jury was still out. After I arrived at my first stop, in Algeria, I learned that the jury had acquitted me. That made everything else simple, except possibly a charge of escape.'
'I should think we can work that out,' Stone said.
'Now, I have a question for you before we go any further. I would like to know how you came to be on that flight that I… deplaned from last night, and exactly what your relationship is with the CIA.'
'Of course,' Stone replied. 'Some years ago I met Lance Cabot in England, while representing a client there. I won't trouble you with the subsequent nature of our relationship; suffice it to say that the following year I signed a consultant's contract with the Agency, and, on a number of occasions, I have assisted Lance with various problems. That will not be a conflict of interest with your case because they are not currently employing me.'
'And your presence on the airplane?'
'I represent Strategic Services, who previously owned the airplane. They recently sold it to the Agency, along with the attendant charter company, then undertook to make a flight to Iraq, picking you up on the way back. I simply went along on the flight for the experience, which turned out to be very interesting indeed.'
'All right,' Pablo said, 'now let me tell you a few things.'
'I'm all ears,' Stone replied.
'Since I settled with the IRS I have taken care not to violate U.S. law. I have, in the course of my business dealings, tiptoed around all sorts of other national laws, but I have never been arrested or charged in any of those countries. I have avoided that, mostly, by conducting all of my business from Spain, by telephone or e-mail or
