57
While Vance took a nap in his suite, Stone tried to assess his position. He had a witness, an accuser, now, one who knew some of what was going on in Ippolito’s empire, but one who, in the end, would not testify in court. What was more, now that he had declared himself Vance’s attorney, he had lost some of his powers of persuasion, such as threatening to go to the tabloids with what he knew of the movie star’s dealings. He was going to have to sell part of Vance to the feds, and it was time to see what they would give Vance for what he knew. He called Hank Cable at the FBI.
“Hello, Hank, it’s Stone Barrington.”
“Hi, Stone.”
“Anything new?”
“I’ve got some codebusters working on what we’re hearing from the taps on Barone Financial, but our warrant is about to expire, and we’re not there yet, and I on’t know if we have enough to get an extension.”
“Maybe I can help.”
“I hope so. We’re pretty much at a dead end, unless the code boys come up with something startling.”
“Do you know the chief investigator for the IRS in L.A.?”
“Sure; we talk from time to time.”
“I’d like to meet with both of you, today, at the earliest possible moment.”
“If you’ll hang on a minute, Stone, I’ll see if I can get him on another line.”
“Sure.” Stone waited for a couple of minutes.
“You still there?”
“Yep.”
“How about lunch? You’re buying.”
Stone gave him his suite number at the Bel-Air. “In an hour?”
“See you then.”
Stone hung up and called Rick Grant. “Rick, I’m having lunch with Hank Cable and the IRS; will you join us in my suite?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I think there may be something good for you in all this, but I warn you, the feds are going to take the biggest helpings.”
“So what else is new?”
“Can you be here in an hour?”
“Sure, but can you fill me in a little before we meet the feds?”
“It wouldn’t do any good right now. What I hope you’ll do is just listen and back me up when I ask for it.”
“I’ll listen, and I’ll back you up if I can, but if we’re getting official here, I have my department’s interests to protect.”
“If it’s any consolation, your department is going to get more than the feds would ever give you if I weren’t in the middle of this. At least I have something they want; I just have to see how bad they want it.”
“Okay, I’ll trust you.”
“See you in an hour.” Stone hung up, walked down to the manager’s office, and borrowed a computer. They were happy to help.
“By the way, Mr. Barrington, there have been a couple of calls for you, but I denied all knowledge, as you requested,” the desk woman said.
“Any body leave a name?”
“No, sir.”
“I didn’t think so.” Stone sat down at the computer, quickly wrote a document and printed out several copies, then went back to his suite. Vance was up now.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I’ve got some people coming here for lunch, and I’d like you to stay out of sight until I need you. Why don’t you order some lunch and have it in your suite?”
“Okay.”
“And don’t go out. Somebody has been calling hotel looking for me, and I think we can both guess who it might be.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay put.”
“Vance, if I call you into this meeting, that will mean that it’s time for you to tell everything to these people, do you understand?”
“Yes, I suppose so; I’ll depend on you to protect me.”
“I’ll explain the circumstances before I ask you to say anything.”
“All right, but remember, no testifying, and no public knowledge of my involvement.”
“I’ll aim for that,” Stone said.
Hank Cable showed up with his IRS friend on time; the man didn’t look at all the way he had imagined. He was tall, fiftyish, gray at the temples, and looked more like the stereotype of a judge.
“Stone, this is John Rubens,” Cable said. “He heads the investigations division of the IRS in Southern California.”
The two men shook hands, then Rick Grant arrived and was introduced. Shortly a waiter showed up with the lobster salad lunch Stone had ordered for them all, and with two bottles of a very good California chardonnay. Lunch was served on Stone’s private terrace. They ate, they drank the wine, then coffee was served.
“Well, gentlemen, it’s time to tell you why I’m buying you such a good lunch,” Stone said.
“Please do,” Rubens replied. “And thank you for the lunch.”
“I have as a client a person who may be a very important witness in a very big prosecution,” Stone said.
“For what crime?” Rubens asked.
“Tax evasion, for a start, to the tune of maybe hundreds of millions of dollars.”
“I like the sound of that,” the IRS man said.
Cable spoke up. “I can only assume we’re talking about the people we’ve been talking about all along.”
Rubens broke in. “You’ve been talking all along? How long?”
“Only a few days,” Cable replied.
“And tax evasion came into it only this morning.”
“All right, proceed,” Rubens said.
“My client can’t conclusively make your cases for you, but I believe he can be invaluable.”
“And what does your client want in all this?” Rubens asked.
“A number of things, of course, and all in the gift of you gentlemen.”
“Go on.”
“Immunity, for a start; complete and total.”
“Immunity for what?”
“My client has been naive; he has been sucked into an investment scheme by prominent businessmen which has turned out to be, shall we say, extra-legal?”
“And how much has your client lost?” Rubens asked.
“Nothing, as of the moment; in fact, he has made large profits, which he allowed these businessmen to reinvest for him.”
“Would this involve offshore bank accounts, tax evasion, and the like?” Rubens asked.
“On a monumental scale.”
“And is your client’s involvement monumental?”
“His total investment is one and a half million dollars.”
“Well, from my point of view, this doesn’t sound insurmountable,” Rubens said. “Hank, how about you?”
“We haven’t heard what else Stone’s client wants,” Cable said.
“Well, immunity, as I said, from all federal prosecution-and Rick, I’ll expect the same for local and state officials. But just as important, my client’s identity must never be revealed to anyone outside your offices.”
