“If it looks that way, we can seal me off from any contact with the representation of Gunn,” Stone explained, “but I understand that Gunn’s position is that he’s innocent of any wrongdoing and is cooperating with the U.S. Attorney.”
“Not like the Madoff thing, huh?”
“I hope not. Bill wants me at the first meeting this afternoon. I’ll need to look into this some more, to be sure there’s no conflict, but in any case, my first loyalty is to Strategic Services.”
Stone’s cell phone buzzed, and he looked at it. “It’s Eggers. I’d better take this.” He got up and walked across the room. “Yes, Bill?”
“Stone, I’m going to seal you off from the Gunn representation. I don’t want it to interfere with your representation of Strategic Services, and you should tell Mike Freeman that I can’t work on his account until the Gunn thing is cleared up, which could be some time.”
“I understand, Bill.”
“This means you’re going to have to handle the Strategic Services account without consulting me. Most of the rest of the firm will be available to you, if you need help.”
“Thanks, I’ll let Mike know.” Stone hung up and returned to his seat. “I’m all yours,” Stone said.
“Good.”
“But Bill is going to have to be absent from your account while he’s dealing with the Gunn thing.”
“I understand.”
“Have you made any attempt to move your investments from Gunn to another firm?”
“Not yet.”
“I think it
would be good if you moved those assets to another entity, say, your bank, for the time being. You should talk to your banker before you call the Gunn firm. Who is your account manager there?”
“Jack Gunn.”
“You’ll have to talk to his number two, then.”
“That would be Peter Collins. I’ve dealt with him a couple of times.”
Freeman called his banker, talked for a moment, then hung up. “All Gunn’s accounts are temporarily frozen,” he said to Stone. “No transferring any funds into or out of accounts, and no trading.”
“That may be a good thing,” Stone said.
Freeman’s secretary knocked and came into the room. “You should turn on your TV to CNBC,” she said.
Freeman switched on a large flat-screen TV hanging on the wall on the other side of his office. A reporter stood outside the building where Jack Gunn’s offices were located. In the background officers in body armor were moving into the building and there was yellow police boundary tape everywhere.
“The latest word is that somebody has shot several people in the offices of Jack Gunn, the investment banker who was taken to the U.S. Attorney’s office earlier this morning for questioning,” the reporter was saying. “We have not been told who the shooter is, how many people he has shot, or whether there are any fatalities, and it may be some time before we know any of that.”
Stone looked past the reporter, and his eyes widened. He saw Herbie Fisher leaving the building with his arm around his new wife. “That’s my client,” he said, pointing. He got his cell phone out and speed-dialed Herbie’s phone.
“Hello?” Herbie said breathlessly.
“Herbie, it’s Stone Barrington. I’ve just seen you come out of Gunn’s building on TV. What’s going on up there?”
“This guy who sits next to Jack’s office has shot a couple of people; I don’t think anybody is dead. We were down the hall in Stephanie’s office when the shooting started, and we got the hell out of there.”
“Who is the guy doing the shooting?” Stone asked.
“His name is Peter Collins,” Herbie replied. “I just met him this morning. We were supposed to talk to him about moving my money over to the firm.”
“Did you do that?”