“Don’t worry, we’re going to get there.” Stone didn’t feel as confident as he sounded, but it was important to keep the man’s spirits up. “His attorney will call me when there’s news, and I’ll let you know immediately. Did you call any of the other shareholders about selling?”
“I stopped when I thought we had enough shares.”
“Well, you’d better get back on the phone, just in case we need more shares.”
“All right, I’ll do that.” Rick hung up.
“Anything I can do?” Dino said.
“Yes, you can call your pal Rivera and tell him there’s a man at Parker Center called Carter, who is in Terry Prince’s pocket and who may have been involved in Jim Long’s shanking.”
“I can do that,” Dino said. He got up and went into the guesthouse.
“Prince is a persistent son of a bitch, isn’t he?” Arrington said.
“Yes, he is.”
“What are we going to do if he wins the Centurion battle?”
“Worst case, you’ll probably get three thousand dollars a share for your stock. That’s not too bad a downside.”
“But Rick will see his beloved studio die.”
“I hope not, but nothing ever remains the same; things keep changing.” Stone thought maybe this was the time. “Worse comes to worse, there may be a way to keep Centurion from Prince, even if he wins this fight.”
“How can we do that?” Arrington asked.
“As of today, you own-what?-eighteen acres of Bel-Air?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Prince has gone into the hotel business, bought several prime properties around the country. That’s mostly why he wants Centurion, so he can build another. He tried to buy the Bel-Air Hotel but failed. I think he wanted it very, very badly.”
“So?”
“So, if he owned your property here, he could build his own hotel in Bel-Air.”
Arrington blinked. “I suppose there is enough land for that,” she said. “But how would that stop him from buying Centurion?”
“You could make the sale of your land conditional on his agreeing not to acquire Centurion. I suspect that, although the Centurion deal might make better business sense, his ego would prefer having his own hotel in Bel-Air.”
“You know,” Arrington said, “I might like to have my own hotel in Bel-Air. That would be quite a project, wouldn’t it?”
“Stop having that dream for the moment,” Stone said. “Let’s see how this works out.”
“If you say so,” she said.
28
Stone gave his car to the parking attendant at the Bel-Air and walked across the bridge to the hotel. The swans were back in the little stream, as if they had never left. Maybe they hadn’t, he reflected.
Stone presented himself to the headwaiter and was shown to a large, semi-circular booth at the rear of the garden restaurant, where Terry Prince was already seated.
“Forgive me for not getting up,” Prince said, offering his hand as Stone slid behind the table. “Would you like a drink?”
“Some iced tea,” Stone said. He reckoned he should keep his wits about him today.
Prince ordered a mimosa for himself and iced tea for Stone. “I hope you’re having a pleasant stay in our city,” he said.