“I’m listening; talk.”
“You know about the hostage situation in that Park Avenue office building?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d like you to represent the hostage holder, whose name is Peter Collins.” Stone gave him the rundown on Collins’s demands and Hank Willard’s acceptance of them.
“So you’ve done everything. What’s left for me?”
“Get your
ass over to the Seventeenth Precinct on East Fifty-first, listen to the man and represent him. You’ll know better than I how to handle it.”
“When?”
“Right now.”
“Shit. I had a hot date for drinks.”
“This shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours; push it back to dinner.”
“Good thinking. Bye.” Levine hung up.
Stone called Peter Collins.
“Hello?”
“Everything okay there?”
“Yes.”
“Your attorney’s name is Milton Levine. Call him Milt. He doesn’t look the part but he’s as smart as they come, and he’ll do good by you. He’s going to meet you at the police station.”
“All right.”
“Now, we’re going to set this in motion. First, the EMTs will come and take the injured man away. Then you lock your gun in your desk or your safe and take the elevator to the garage. Hank Willard will meet you there and escort you to the station. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Remember, as soon as the EMTs have taken the wounded man away, you lock up the gun and leave. The police will come after you’ve gone and take the hostages out.”
“Thank you, Stone. I’m grateful for your help.”
“Good luck, Peter.”
Stone hung up and called Hank Willard. “We’re on,” he said. “Collins’s attorney is Milton Levine. Go.”
“We’re going,” Willard said. “Thanks for your help.” He hung up.
Stone hung up and breathed a sigh of relief.
SEVEN
Stone met Dino at Elaine’s. They were on their first drink when Bill Eggers walked in, sat down, and ordered a single-malt scotch.
Stone was surprised to see him. “What’re you doing here, Bill?” he asked.
“I’m not here,” Eggers said, taking a tug at his drink.