minute we hear that word from you, we’re on our way with SWAT teams. We’ll have the elevator keys, and we can be with you in no more than a minute, a minute and a half at the outside.”
“And if I’m in trouble, what am I supposed to do for those ninety seconds?”
“That’s what the pens are for,” Cable said.
“Okay,” Stone said, “I’ll do it.”
61
Stone sat with Rick Grant and Dino in the parking garage of the Safe Harbor building. Stone took off his shoulder holster and handed it, with the pistol, to Rick. “I don’t think I’d get into Ippolito’s office wearing that, do you?” he asked, slipping back into his jacket.
“Probably not,” Rick said.
Dino, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the planning of this event, spoke up. “Stone, I got a lot of problems with this,” he said.
“What problems?”
“You’re walking into this place, and you don’t know anything about it. On top of that, all you know about this Ippolito is that he’s a very, very bad guy who has already tried to kill you once. This is not a recipe for a nice day.”
“I take your point, Dino, but I have a personal interest in this; I don’t want to sit around and wait for the feds to take forever to make a case against this guy. I want to hurt him myself.”
“You already did that-twice,” Dino pointed out.
“I cost him money, that’s all. I want to put the son of a bitch in prison forever.”
“All right,” Dino said, “if you have to do it, then do it.”
“Stone,” Rick said, “you don’t have to do this; I can call it off right now.”
“Iwant to do it,” Stone said. “Now both of you shut up and let’s get on with it.”
“Let me tell you the setup,” Rick said. “We’ve got a van parked across the street with a power company logo on it and a manhole open. The van is where all the radio equipment is. They’ll receive your signal, then amplify it and broadcast it to our hand-held radios, so everybody can hear you all the time. We’ve got two FBI SWAT teams in vans here in the garage; they’ve taken an elevator out of service, and it’s just sitting there, waiting to go straight to the top. We’ve got plainclothes people loitering near every security station in the bank, so that there’s no early warning to Ippolito’s suite that we’re on the way. We’ve got people sitting on David Sturmack and Martin Barone; we’ll bust them the minute you’re safe. Also, the feds have got search warrants for Safe Harbor and all its branches; also for Barone Financial and Albacore Fisheries, and we’ve got the bank examiners ready to roll the minute you’re out of the building.”
“Sounds good,” Stone said, then he pointed at something. “Look at that,” he said.
A Rolls-Royce convertible drove past and parked in a bay across from them; David Sturmack got out and went to the elevators.
“Maybe he’s going up to Ippolito’s office,” Rick said.
“Maybe he’s gonna cash a check,” Dino said.
“Wouldn’t it be sweet if you could get both of them talking?” Rick asked.
“I’ll do the best I can,” Stone said. He got out of the car and stamped both heels on the concrete floor. “Testing, testing,” he said.
Rick held up his radio. “Loud and clear. Good luck.”
“Yeah,” Dino said. “Good luck. I wish I was going with you.”
Stone started for the elevators. He had to wait a while, since one was out of service, but eventually he got into the car and pressed the top button, the twenty-fifth floor. The elevator stopped several times, taking on and discharging passengers, but by the time he reached the twenty-fifth, he was alone. “I’m here,” he said to the wire. He got off the elevator and walked into a large, plushly furnished reception room. David Sturmack was sitting in an armchair, flipping through an issue ofFortune magazine. He didn’t look up.
“May I help you?” the receptionist asked cordially.
“Yes, would you please tell Mr. Ippolito that…”
A buzzer rang. “Excuse me,” the receptionist said, picking up the phone. “Yes, sir, I’ll send him right in.” She turned to Sturmack. “Mr. Sturmack, Mr. Ippolito will see you now.”
Stone turned his back and coughed into his fist as Sturmack walked past, taking no notice of him. The receptionist pressed a button under her desktop, and Ippolito’s office door opened for Sturmack.
“Oh, there’s David,” Stone said to the receptionist with a smile, and started for the door. “I’m here for this meeting.”
The receptionist nodded and smiled.
Stone caught the door before it closed and stepped in behind Sturmack. Ippolito was sitting at his desk, his back to the door, talking on the phone. Sturmack still had not noticed that he had been followed into the office.
It was a large and handsomely designed room, with spectacular views over the city, all the way to the Pacific. It was an unusually clear day, free of smog. Sturmack walked to the desk and settled himself in a chair, his back to Stone. Stone walked over and took the chair beside him.
Sturmack glanced idly at Stone, then blanched and stood up, alarmed. Simultaneously, Ippolito hung up the phone and turned around. Stone made himself comfortable in the chair.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said.
Sturmack looked as though he were about to have a coronary, but Ippolito, though momentarily surprised, maintained his composure. “Sit down, David,” he said. He reached under the desktop and fiddled with something.
“Where did you come from?” Sturmack asked shakily.
“From the depths of the Pacific,” Stone said. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
Two men burst into the room from a side door, each with a gun in his hand.
“Search him,” Ippolito said, pointing to Stone.
Stone stood up and allowed himself to be patted down.
“He’s clean, except for a telephone,” one of the men said, holding up Stone’s cell phone.
“Thank you, Tommy; you can give it back to him.”
The man handed back the telephone, and Stone slipped it into his pocket. The two men, at a nod from Ippolito, left the room.
“So it was you,” Ippolito said. “My yacht captain described you, but I didn’t believe it.”
Stone shrugged. He didn’t want to admit to sinking the yacht while wearing a wire.
“I don’t understand,” Sturmack said, looking distinctly ill.
“It was Mr. Barrington here, who sank my boat. Both my boats, in fact.”
Stone smiled, but said nothing.
“So what brings you to see us, Mr. Barrington?” Ippolito asked.
“I thought perhaps you and I might do some business,” Stone replied.
“After the money you’ve cost me?” Ippolito asked, outraged. “I should do business withyou?”
“And what about you, Mr. Ippolito? You’re a very bad dinner host indeed, inviting me aboard your yacht, then trying to have me murdered on the way. Why did you do that?”
“You were getting in my way,” Ippolito said, shrugging. “I kill people who get in my way.”
Stone smiled. He hoped to God the wire picked upthat little tidbit.
“Well, I figure we’re about even,” Stone said. “You gave me a bad fright, I gave you one. I don’t think we should let that stand in the way of business, do you?”
“What kind of business did you have in mind?” Ippolito asked.
“I’d like to invest in Albacore Fisheries,” Stone said, “I think the stock is going to go way, way up. With my help.”
“And how could you help our stock to go up?” Ippolito asked.
“By helping you gain control of Centurion Studios,” Stone replied. He was improvising, but he had their
