“No
, Herbie.”
“She kissed me and said, ‘Well, fuck you, kid; you’re out.’ Then she got on the plane and they left. I didn’t hear anything else until this morning, on TV.”
Stone began to laugh.
“What’s funny?” Herbie asked.
“I was just thinking that there are two very pissed-off ladies right about now in the DA’s and the U.S. Attorney’s offices.”
“If you say so,” Herbie replied. “Oh, there are some guys in your waiting room that want to talk to us.”
“Us?”
“They’re FBI agents. I told them I wouldn’t have anything to say until my attorney arrived, and Joan said you were on the way, so they waited.”
“Okay, Herbie,” Stone said, hanging his tattered coat on the back of his chair and sitting down at his desk. “Trot ’em in here and let’s see if we can get you out of this one.”
And Herbie did.