Strategic Moves (Stone Barrington 19)

“Do you have documents to support your recounting of these transactions?”

“Alas, such transactions are never committed to paper, except as notes, which I have always destroyed at the conclusion of the business.”

“What we very much need, then,” Stone said, “is a transaction that they can confirm independently, as a means of confirming your veracity.”

“I am unaccustomed to having my veracity questioned,” Pablo said, “having built a reputation for truthfulness over these many years.”

“You will have to try not to be offended by the disbelief of others,” Stone said. “Each person you speak to will have his own very good reasons for disbelieving you, unless the truth can be more objectively confirmed.”

Pablo sighed. “Ah, that is human nature, I suppose.”

“It is the nature of the intelligence bureaucracy,” Stone said, “where every person is responsible to those above him and must, therefore, cover his ass.”

Pablo laughed. “I think you are right; I am unaccustomed to dealing with bureaucracy. In my business, decisions are made qui

ckly, albeit with verification on both sides.”

“As in ‘you show me yours, and I’ll show you mine’?”

“Precisely.”

“Please remember, as we progress, that we are not dealing in the sale or purchase of hardware, but a trade of information in return for the safety of you and yours. What we are likely to get, if we are successful, is a sheet of paper with some writing and a signature on it.”

“I understand. Tell me, Stone, do you have a very good safe in your offices?”

“I do.”

“Then I must ask you to deposit there any paper on which you have written any information about me, so that, if your offices should be . . . disturbed, that information will not fall into other hands.”

“I will do so,” Stone replied. He looked at his watch. “Now,” he said, “I think you should go to a place where you feel secure and wait there while I conduct some preliminary discussion with what we must think of as the opposition. If you will give me a phone number, I’ll call you when I have progress to report, probably tomorrow.”

“Please memorize this,” Pablo said, then gave him the number. “Repeat, please.”

Stone repeated the number.

Pablo stood and offered his hand. “I feel better now,” he said. “I look forward to working with you.”

“I look forward to that, too,” Stone said, shaking the hand.

When Pablo had gone, Stone called Lance Cabot.

“Holly Barker.”

“Holly, it’s Stone. May I speak to Lance?”

“I’m afraid he’s out of the office for the rest of the day,” she said. “Did you get any sleep this morning?”

“I did, though not enough. Will you ask Lance to call me at his earliest convenience?”

“Sure. Anything I can help you with?”

“Not yet,” Stone replied. “Bye-bye.” He hung up, then called Dino and made a dinner date. He called in Joan, scribbled Pablo’s phone number on a notepad, ripped off the page and handed it to her, along with the letter from the IRS. “Start a file on Mr. Gelbhardt,” he said. “Keep it in the safe, along with any other material pertaining to him, and keep the safe locked at all times.”

“Anything scary about this client?” she asked.

“He’s a pussycat, but there might be those who wish to harm him in some way, and they may not be as nice—hence, the safe.”

“Got it.”